Ariel stashed her gun behind a bookcase, still in easy reach if she needed it, and caught the bags Xochi threw to her. Nandita, who the Partials had been searching for almost as eagerly as Kira, hid herself in a back room, while Senator Kessler did the same—she wasn’t necessarily a criminal, but if the Partials recognized her as a senator, they might take her anyway. Isolde struggled to calm her screaming baby, and far in the back, beneath a false panel in the floor, Madison quietly shushed Arwen. Ariel hid the last of the bags in a kitchen cupboard; barely ten seconds had elapsed since the knock on the door. The soldier outside pounded loudly again, and Ariel opened it.

“What do you want?” Her voice was more surly than she’d intended; she was trying to act innocent and unnoticeable. When the Partials didn’t react to her anger, she realized that maybe anger was the most innocent reaction of all in an occupied city. She allowed herself a fierce scowl, surprised at how good it felt.

The pair of Partial soldiers on the porch were both young—about eighteen years old in appearance, as they all were, though she knew they were closer to twenty. She wondered if she’d seen these two around the city anywhere, maybe guarding a street corner when she’d been out scavenging for food, but they all looked so similar she couldn’t tell. The Partials weren’t clones of one another, but they may as well have been. Ariel found them completely indistinguishable. It made her wonder if the Partials thought the same thing about humans.

Which only made her grimace, nauseated anew by the realization that “us” and “them” meant completely different things than they had three days ago.

“Miss,” said the first Partial, “we heard a baby crying on the premises. We’ve come to see if there’s anything wrong.”

You mean you’ve come to see if it’s Arwen, thought Ariel. She glanced at Isolde, who flashed a look of impotent fury before gritting her teeth and giving a small, almost imperceptible nod. They had prearranged a plan to use Khan to hide Arwen, and while Isolde had agreed with it, she hated it intensely.

“Yes,” said Ariel, pointing toward the swaddled infant. “Can you help? We’ve done everything we can, but he’s dying.” The Partials glanced at Isolde and her baby, and Ariel stepped closer. “It’s RM, and it’s killing him.” She felt more anger boiling to the surface and unleashed it like a flamethrower. “Don’t you have any medicine? They told us the Partials had the cure—can you help him? Or are you just here to watch him die?”