“Right,” Hannibal said. “We’ve got to find some way of convincing all of the Second Brothers that there are enough good Keepers left to spare our lives. In the end, we all want the same things.”

“Not all the same things,” East Keep amended. “They want to take our seats, and we don’t want any dirty ferals in the Assembly.”

Hannibal looked pained but didn’t disagree. She met my eyes and explained, “East Keep’s right, actually. We want to keep the lines that separate the First and Second Brothers. More, the Rebels want to repeal the Rebirth and, generally, we’re in favor of the pill.”

“Not in its current state,” Covington added. “We want more oversight and more research into why the Rebirth misfires.”

“Botched erasure,” I said, thinking of the workers I’d met in the village. “It’s unconscionable and must stop.”

Covington lowered her voice and leaned in. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but when I consider the ills of the Rebirth, this mysterious fever and the work they do in the field—well, sometimes I’m not sure I blame the workers for rebelling.”

My eyes locked with Covington’s, and I felt myself nod ever so slightly. However, I remained silent. I’d already said as much as I dared. After several tense minutes, I took a deep breath. “So, why is Covington always at the head of the line?” I asked, changing the subject.

The twins exchanged an amused glance, and East Keep smothered a laugh.

Covington sighed. “They put me at the front because the person at the front of the line doesn’t actually do any work.”

I nodded, seeing that what she said was true. Because the ends of the line weren’t connected. The person at the front, Covington, wouldn’t have a head to style. And the person at the back, myself, wouldn’t be treated. “Do you not like to braid?” I said, treading carefully. The tension between us was just dissipating and, despite my misgivings, I was having fun.

“Well, none of us likes to braid,” Covington replied.

I pressed on. “So why don’t you rotate positions, or shift the chairs closer?”

She crossed her arms defensively, mumbling something I couldn’t hear.

All the girls burst into laughter. The twins were holding each other and wiping tears of mirth from their eyes.

“I don’t get it,” I said, but I was smiling in my curiosity.

East Keep recovered. “We don’t rotate, because Covington’s not allowed to touch anyone’s hair—not anymore.” She dissolved into laughter again.

“What is it?” I asked, laughingly.

Hannibal turned to me. “Remember that terrible bang West Keep had last year?”

I had no clue, but I nodded anyway.

“Well, she didn’t exactly cut it on purpose. After Covington did her braids, her hair was so knotted that West Keep had no choice but to cut it.”