She pulled a stack of notebooks from the fabled compartment under her desk. I took one without thinking. It was bound in embossed red leather. I touched my finger to the spiked ivy etched into the cover. The foliage ran up from the bottom of the spine. At the top, I traced sideways, down and back again. From there, the leaves bloomed up and out. They tangled together, weaving a nest in the center of the diary. In the middle of the nest a dark splotch of imperfectly dyed leather made a black oval egg, about the size of my thumb. I pressed my finger to it and felt it grow warm. Surprised, I yanked my hand back.

“Is one not enough?” she said, seeing my hesitation. “Here, take two. And quills and ink.” She rushed to collect these, stuffing it all into a take-away bag.

“I only have three passes,” I protested.

She waved a benevolent hand. “Consider it a token, a welcome-back gift—from the Party.”

I winced. Another gift was the last thing I wanted, and especially not one from the New Seed Party. I took the bag from her and removed several items. “I have quills and ink,” I said. “I’ll take the journal, but only one.”

I had an idea for what to write in it. One journal was enough to accomplish my goal. Without meeting her ingratiating gaze, I bade her goodbye and left.

The Heartbreak

THE HEARTBREAK

Back in my room, I found everything exactly as I left it. My toiletries in ranks and lines. My curtains tied back in neat knots, no bows. My readers, crisp on the corner of my desk, each edge lined up in perfect right angles. I knelt on the floor by my desk and rummaged through my drawers. Finally, all the way in the back, I found a stack of East Keep’s invitations. Pressed down and tied together, they were still three inches thick. I unbound them and spread them in a fan across my desk. The smell of stale perfume and stationery ink wafted up from the envelopes. Not a single one had been opened.

I was fumbling for a letter opener when a quiet knock sounded at my door. My maid, my dear Robin! I set the invitations aside. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed our friendship. Besides that, she was my link to the village news. She had nursed alongside Hosea and me. She would know who had made it and exactly how many were lost.

I flung open the door and froze. My smile died.

“Hello, Ma’am.”

Instead of Robin, a little brown maid stood there, skinny and barefoot. I recognized her thin sack dress and solemn eyes. This was the girl that slept in the kitchen by the fire. The one who had brought me bad tidings about Robin before.

A terrible premonition tickled my throat. “What is it?” I asked.