“A baby learns to trust. All she’s ever trusted is her power and the woman who ran Cauldron. That woman died. At your teammate’s hands, as a matter of fact.”

I kept my expression still.

“A child learns autonomy. She’s had her hand held every step of the way. Industry and work ethic, or how to pursue something? As we just discussed, everything is easy for her. How can you have work ethic without work?”

“Identity?” I asked.

“I imagine the style she wears provided the shortest number of steps to ensuring Doctor Mother was listened to in meetings, or to ensure she was given due consideration as a bodyguard.”

“Intimacy?” I asked. “Does she like anyone?”

“Doctor Mother, maybe? But then you have to wonder. If you take in a dog, virtually any dog, of any breed, any personality. If you feed it and treat it with kindness, won’t it love you?”

“She’s a dog?” I asked, my tone twisting despite my intent. I didn’t like dehumanizing.

“You have to ask similar questions. She depended on and was cared for by one person. Wouldn’t loving that person be inevitable?”

“Does she think she made a difference? Was it worth it, to do the kinds of things she did, for Doctor Mother?”

“I couldn’t tell you. I don’t think we would have won without Cauldron. But I’m biased.”

“Does she regret it?”

“To answer that question, I think you have to start by asking how much was really by her design, when Doctor Mother made the choices and her power dictated the how.”

Fuck me.

I pressed, “Does that impact the decisions she makes? Call them into question?”

“She remains forward thinking. I think she’s been at it for so long her brain has adapted to it. She thinks of the future more than the present. Her decisions are sound. No, I don’t think it impacts anything of note.”

“Agendas? Motivations? Drives? You make her out to be a robot, like this.”

“None that I’m aware of. And I think she’s grown since she finished her mission, but I can’t know in what direction she grew. I could guess, but it would be just that: a guess. What I can tell you is that if you think she’s going to betray us all… she’s too young. Too stunted. She’ll be too busy finding her own way to decide ours.”

“She could make you think that,” I said.

“She could. She would do so perfectly.”

I fell mute. It was my turn to press my lips together.

If not an attack or scheme, was it a blind spot?

“Tell me what you’re after? Why this line of inquiry?”

She asked, and I could have answered. But even though Citrine’s Mortari group had set us up with funding, provided research, and cooperated… I hesitated.