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Marianella nodded. She knew they couldn’t release her to the air—there was no funeral home in the park, no funeral home for robots. But Sofia scooped Inéz up in her arms and carried her toward the Ice Palace, her steps steady and purposeful. Luciano and Araceli were waiting in the foyer. His repairs had completed without issue during the culling, and it was a relief to see him whole again.
Araceli let out a strangled cry when she saw Inéz.
“It’s my fault,” Sofia said. Marianella wanted to protest—no, of course it wasn’t Sofia’s fault. It was Andres’s. He’d been the one to slice through Inéz’s belly and cut the wires. But she couldn’t find her voice.
That evening, after the dome lights faded into darkness, they buried Inéz in the snowflake garden, the way people did on the mainland. There was no ceremony, no priest, no singing of hymns or uttering of prayers. Even Marianella didn’t pray, not then. She only hung back amid the overgrowth, trying not to think of how she’d hidden herself as Inéz had died. Luciano dug the grave. Araceli wept, handkerchief pressed to her cheek. And Sofia laid Inéz into the ground, every piece of her. She told Marianella that it was because she didn’t want to see Inéz used for parts. There was no way to repair Inéz, but she wouldn’t be scavenged, either. Not by the city and not by Sofia, when she went to repair the broken androids. Instead, Inéz would lie in the ground, guarded by flowers.
Now the memory made Marianella’s anger surge again. Inéz was dead, and if it was Alejo’s fault, she wanted to know. And she wanted to know why.
Marianella tossed the rosary back onto her vanity and walked out of her room, heading toward the control center. That would be the easiest way to contact a drone for programming. But halfway down the stairs, she stopped, one hand on the banister, her anger pounding inside her head. If she sent a drone, she wouldn’t be able to look at Alejo as she demanded her explanation. He could record his answer as easily as he could record his press conferences.
He could lie.
Marianella walked down the rest of the stairs, but she stopped on the first-floor landing and did not continue down to the control center. The hallway was dim and empty. She couldn’t even hear the chatter of the television Luciano liked to watch.
It was stupid, leaving the park. She could hide herself from Ignacio with a scarf and sunglasses, but that was not foolproof, and she knew it. She slumped against the wall, taking in deep breaths. Her machine parts churned, trying to compensate for her quickened heart rate and the flush in her cheeks. But they didn’t understand emotion. They didn’t understand fury, or betrayal, or grief.
This was a risk worth taking.
Marianella took one last deep breath. She gripped hard on the banister. She wouldn’t tell Sofia that she was leaving—Sofia would try to stop her. But she could leave a message with one of the drones, programmed to report to Sofia or Luciano if she didn’t return.
She knew she couldn’t think about this any longer, because if she thought about it, she wouldn’t do it.
Marianella walked back up the stairs, back to her room, to pick out clothes with which to disguise herself.
* * * *
Alejo’s office had the ambience of most offices that Marianella had been in—fluorescent lights set in the low-hanging ceiling, the smell of paper and toner and men’s aftershave. She sat in the waiting room as his secretary clattered away on the typewriter. Every now and then male voices spilled in from the closed door leading into the hallway. They were laughing.
Marianella tapped her finger against her thigh, nervous. The secretary kept typing.
Finally, the door swung open. A trio of men stepped out, Alejo in the middle. When Marianella saw him, she thought of Andres circling around Inéz like a vulture, and her breath caught.
Alejo glanced out across the lobby, caught Marianella’s eye.
“And here she is now!” he said, which set the two men to laughing. Marianella didn’t recognize them. They were older, thick-jowled and dressed in business suits. They had a vaguely mainland air about them. “We were just talking about you,” Alejo added.
“Nothing bad, I hope.” When Marianella stood up, she felt herself shedding the days living in the amusement park. She was Lady Luna again.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to be.
“Of course not.” Alejo gri
“Wife can’t stop talking about it,” said the one on the right. “She was in a snit for six months when she missed the one last year.”
“I was telling them how thrilled you are to be attending again yourself this year.” Alejo’s eyes glittered.
“Of course!” Marianella plastered on her brightest smile. “I had a new gown made at a local dressmaker’s. Rosa’s? Have you heard of it?” It was difficult to fake the frivolity of her old life, but the two benefactors nodded, looking bored.
“I have not, but I’m sure you’ll look absolutely lovely.” Alejo gri
“Let me see you fellows out,” Alejo said, “and then I’ll get a chance to speak to Lady Luna here about making sure you’ve got the best table.”
More chuckles. Alejo and the two men walked across the room. One of the men asked a question about the city council, and Marianella decided they must be involved in the government somehow. But they stepped out the door before she could hear anything more.
Alejo’s secretary stopped typing and took a sip of her coffee. Marianella glanced over at her. She looked up, gave a quick smile, went back to work.
Alejo stepped back into the office. Alone this time.
“Marianella,” he said, singing out her name like a melody. “Why don’t you come on back. Are you here to see me about the Midwinter Ball?”
Marianella glanced at the secretary, still preoccupied with her typing.
“We can certainly talk about that.” She didn’t smile. “I have other questions as well. Shall we?” She gestured to the door, and Alejo nodded and they went into the hallway. It was polite and civilized, but Marianella could see Alejo’s displeasure simmering below the surface.
When they went into his office, Marianella shut the door.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “We agreed that you’d stay in the park until we could determine a better course of action.” Alejo settled down into the chair behind his desk. Pale dome light slipped through the slats in the window blinds and fell in lines across his scattered paperwork. “You haven’t decided to take me up on my offer of protection, have you?”
“No.”
“Then why? Does Cabrera know you’re still alive?”
Marianella looked over at the globe Alejo kept in the corner. Right now it was turned so that all she could see was the Pacific Ocean.
She shook her head.
“I haven’t heard from him either. I’m assuming he still thinks you’re dead. Not that I’ve seen anything in the papers about you, but you know how the papers are in this town.” He leaned forward over his desk and threaded his fingers together. “We’re going to need to address that, you know. Explain away your miraculous survival.”
Marianella closed her eyes. Her throat was constricted. Squeezed shut. She could feel Alejo staring at her from across his desk, and for a moment she was back in the park on the day of the culling, listening to Inéz die.
She opened her eyes and looked at Alejo straight on.
“I know,” she said. “And I have decided that if I have to send him money, I’ll do it. But that’s not actually why I’m here.”
“What? Why else would you be here?”
“I saw Andres in the amusement park yesterday.”
Silence. The room buzzed.
“What does that have to with Ignacio Cabrera?” Alejo finally said.