“Remarkable,” Tamar said, her voice sharp as a blade begging to draw blood. The doctor didn’t seem to notice, but Bergin did, his blue eyes suddenly more alert. He was leaning on one of the huge, slablike tables that took up the center of the room.

“This is where the great work is done,” said the doctor.

Mayu saw drills, bone saws, long pieces of brass and steel, a contraption that looked like it had been welded into the shape of a wing. The floor was made of some kind of metal and punctuated by large drains. To make it easy to wash away the blood. This isn’t an old dairy, she realized. It’s a slaughterhouse. This is the killing floor.

On the far right was a different kind of dormitory. The beds here were more like coffins, sealed brass sarcophagi.

“And these are our ironhearted children, the khergud.”

Here was the proof of Makhi’s program, of the torture of Grisha, of the abominations they’d created. But was her brother among them?

Tamar laid a hand on Mayu’s shoulder, and Mayu realized she was shaking.

“What are their names?” asked Ehri.

“Locust, Harbinger, Scarab, Nightmoth—”

“No,” said Mayu, unable to tamp down her anger. “Their real names.”

The doctor shrugged. “I don’t actually know.”

Mayu gripped the pommel of her talon sword, trying to control her frustration. She looked at the princess, willing Ehri to understand her need. Yes, they had their proof, but where was her brother?

“I’m curious,” said Ehri. “Is it safe to open the … containers?”

“Oh, entirely,” said the doctor, already flipping a switch on one of the sarcophagi. The lid released with an unexpected pop. “We wake them using a stimulant made from ordinary jurda. But they’re safe in any state. The khergud are perfect soldiers.”

Is that what I am? Mayu wondered. A soldier who would take an innocent man’s life, murder a princess, watch her sisters burn at the whim of a queen?

The doctor lifted the lid. A woman lay inside, her breathing shallow, her brow furrowed in sleep. “They don’t dream well,” murmured the doctor. The sleeping soldier seemed to scent something; her nostrils flared. Tamar moved away from the container. The khergud were rumored to be able to smell the presence of Grisha. Perfect soldiers. Perfect hunters.

“Another, please,” said Ehri.

The doctor flipped a switch, pushed open another lid. “We made the sleeping chambers wide to allow for those with winged enhancements.”

Mayu looked down at the man who lay in the container, his brass wings folded behind him. Metal horns curved from his forehead. Not Reyem. Was he even here? If he wasn’t, how would they find the facility he was being kept at?