Free Altered by Gennifer Albin Page A

refugees,” Kincaid says, ignoring the plate of food in front of him.
    I nod, scooping broccoli into my mouth.
    “I’ve seen the footage from the incident at the safe house—unpleasant business,” Kincaid continues, flicking the air like the attack was a mere annoyance. “A renegade Spinster is quite the treasure. I’m sure the Guild would love to have you back.”
    I set my fork down and meet his gaze. “I’m not going back.”
    Beside me Jost and Erik stop eating, waiting to see how this will play out, but Kincaid wheezes a low chuckle.
    “I’m not going to give you over to them if that’s what concerns you,” he says. “The Guild and I are neither strangers nor
friends
.”
    His words reassure me, but I can’t continue eating despite how warm and savory my first bite was.
    “Eat, child,” he prompts me.
    “I’m afraid I find talk of the Guild rather unappetizing,” I admit. My thoughts straddle two realities: this one, where Kincaid is telling me about his relationship to the Guild, and the one I know exists elsewhere in this prodigious estate. I feel safe for the moment, but knowing my mother is here, locked away somewhere on this property, makes me feel again like the girl who was dragged from her home by a retrieval squad. I hadn’t been able to eat more than a bite or two of the dinner Mom cooked for me the night of my testing, so it’s only fitting that the awareness of my mother—alive and imprisoned—is enough to revert me to the girl I used to be.
    “We’re of the same mind.” He gestures to his untouched plate. “The victims of the Guild usually are.”
    My curiosity is piqued. “Victims?”
    “I have a rather sordid past,” Kincaid admits.
    “Don’t we all,” Erik quips, but the mood at the table remains heavy.
    “I was once an official myself.”
    The confession catches me off guard and I grip the tablecloth in front of me. Why didn’t Dante mention this before?
    “I’m in exile,” Kincaid says, tearing apart a roll and slapping several pats of butter on it. He’s surprisingly thin if this is how he eats.
    “Exiled to Earth?” I ask.
    “Cormac and I had a disagreement about the way Arras should be run. Unfortunately when it came time to take sides, I discovered most of my friends shared Cormac’s antiquated notions. The Guild wouldn’t accept change if they could stop it, and with the looms they could. They didn’t see the merits of progress.”
    “And you do?” Erik challenges him.
    “When I came back here, I had nothing,” Kincaid says, his knuckles white around his butter knife. “Earth was dying. I built this city, creating a refuge of stability that could stand up to the Guild, and helped stabilize the solar energy trade.”
    “He monopolized the solar trade,” Dante corrects, and then grins, but the smile stops before it reaches his eyes. Kincaid doesn’t notice.
    “‘Take mercy on the poor souls for whom this hungry war opens his vasty jaws,’” Kincaid tells him. He turns to us and simply says, “
Henry V
. Shakespeare.”
    How romantic of him.
    “Well, I’d call my work progress. There would be no power under the Interface without my efforts, so it’s best for everyone that I oversee the operation. My ideas weren’t welcome in Arras—especially among the likes of Cormac Patton. Who could have imagined that being exiled would prove so liberating? Turning against the Guild was the best decision I ever made.”
    “Then we have even more in common,” I say, willing my voice to stay steady regarding this news. “We’re both renegades.”
    “Ahh, yes. I like that, having things in common with you.”
    His words are honey sweet, meant to be endearing, but they grate against my ears. I know better than anyone that having been part of the Guild doesn’t automatically qualify one as a villain, but I’m reluctant to take his admission at face value.
    Before the conversation can continue, a woman sweeps into the room. The train of her low-backed