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“Why do Spinsters?” Erik asks. “Given the right incentive, anyone can be bought.”
“Not anyone,” Jost says.
There goes the friendliness.
“I haven’t told you the weirdest part yet,” I interrupt. Taking a deep breath, I reveal my true relationship to Dante.
Erik blinks and Jost frowns. They either didn’t hear me or they’re in shock.
“So your dad is nineteen?” Erik says.
I nod.
“And you never knew he was your real father?”
“Oh, do you mean I never knew my real father was my father’s brother, who left my mother pregnant and escaped to an alternate reality before I was born?” I ask in a scathing tone, hoping the cracks in my voice aren’t too noticeable.
“So you didn’t know,” Erik says.
“I went from being an orphan to having two living parents—”
“Sort of,” Erik interjects.
“Not helping, Erik.”
“He’s your father,” Jost says. The frown has slipped from his face, and he’s far away again.
“Yes,” I confirm.
“He missed everything,” Jost says in a voice so low I barely hear him.
“Sorry?”
“He’s been away your whole life,” Jost says.
“It’s okay. I didn’t know what I was missing,” I say. The second the words launch from my lips I want to take them back.
In my own confusion, I hadn’t even thought of how Jost would take this news. Jost is thinking about Sebrina. Each day we spend on Earth is weeks in Arras. Each second that passes, Jost’s daughter slips further from his fingers. She doesn’t know what she is missing either.
But he does.
“I’m going to digest breakfast,” Erik says, although he hasn’t eaten a bite. Nothing about his tone is casual. He must have picked up on what was going on long before I did. Proof, once again, that the brothers are more attuned to each other than either would like to admit. He slips into the hall with a faint farewell, but I see his eyes turn back to his brother. He wants to comfort him, but he doesn’t know how.
“I’m sorry, Jost,” I say as the door shuts behind Erik.
“For what?” Jost asks, but there’s an edge to his voice.
“It didn’t occur to me,” I admit. “I didn’t think about Sebrina.”
“It’s not your responsibility to think about her,” he says, but it’s these words that reveal that the edge in his voice isn’t anger, it’s pain. I’ve hurt him. Not by reminding him of Sebrina or of how quickly he’s losing her, but because I hadn’t cared enough to think about it in the first place.
“I was so caught up in what Dante told me,” I say, but the excuse sounds lame. “I didn’t even think about Amie until now.”
“Amie’s a lot older,” he reminds me.
“And very impressionable,” I say, thinking back to how eager she was to be tested. How fascinated she was with the Bulletins, fawning over the Spinsters and their beautiful dresses. “She’s in danger, too. Cormac knows about her and she’s getting closer and closer to the age of Eligibility. We can’t waste time here. We need a plan.”
“Do you think Kincaid can help us?” Jost asks, and I can tell he doesn’t think Kincaid can—or will.
