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them, trying to understand why my father spent his free time putting together miniature ships. I wondered if he found it satisfying to contain them all, these tiny worlds always in his control.
    â€œI’ll just be a minute,” I said, starting toward the bathroom. It was shared with the master suite, but the second door was nearly always locked. I pressed one fist to my mouth, as if struggling to keep my composure. Then I rushed into the marble bathroom, thankful when I was finally alone.

five
    I TWISTED ON THE TAP, LETTING THE COOL WATER RUN OVER my fingers. I let out a few loud coughs and started on the narrow set of drawers, searching through the tiny plastic boxes and canisters. The writing on some of the labels had worn off. I picked over tall bottles filled with white liquid, a pair of thick metal razors, a horsehair brush and hard soap used to make shaving foam. There were folded white towels that smelled of mint. Then, in the top drawer, I found two amber-colored bottles. A handwritten label was on each, with the doctor’s signature scrawled across it.
    The extract felt heavy in my pocket. I emptied the shiny white capsules onto the marble counter and began the work, popping open three of them and spilling their insides into the sink. The powder clumped together and was swept away, floating above the drain for a moment before it was sucked under.
    I emptied some of the extract on the counter and pressed it inside the hard capsule, careful to keep it away from my face, as Moss had instructed. I pinched one side and slid the cap on, dropping it back into the bottle. I was halfway through the second one when my father knocked on the door. The sound echoed in the hollow room, raising tiny bumps on my arms. “Is everything all right?” he asked. The knob turned but locked in place, refusing to open.
    â€œJust one moment,” I called.
    I moved quickly, finishing the second pill, then three more, and dumped the remaining poison into the sink. I secured the lid on the bottle, careful to set it back just as it had been, in the empty space between two tin boxes. Then I washed my hands, letting the cold water run over my fingers until they were numb. I splashed some on my face and slipped the bag back in my pocket.
    When I stepped outside my father was standing right beside the door, just inches away. His arms were folded. “Feeling better?” he asked, his eyes lingering for a moment on my hands, which were still wet.
    I brought them to my cheeks, willing the soft, red skin back to normal. “I have to lie down,” I said. “I won’t be able to make it to the Outlands. Not like this.”
    My father tilted his head to one side, studying me. “I can’t go see Charles alone,” he said. “Come now, it will be a quick visit. You’ll be back within the half hour.” His features hardened, and I knew then it wasn’t up for discussion. His hand came down around my arm, guiding me toward the door.
    THE RIDE WAS ENDLESS. THE CAR LURCHED AT EVERY CORNER , the cabin thick with the smells of leather and cologne. I opened the window, trying to get some air, but the Outlands held the dry stench of dust and ash. My hand was at my waist, feeling the soft flesh of my belly for the mound that had not yet appeared. I knew I’d missed my period and had wondered if it was possible I was pregnant, but everything in the past months had gone by quickly, somewhere outside me.
    Moss had stolen a tattered T-shirt from the box of items recovered from the airplane hangar. There was a C on the tag, the fabric thin from so many wears. Alone in the suite, Caleb’s shirt balled in my hands, I was certain that when he died a part of me had died with him. I couldn’t feel anymore, not the way I had when he was here, inside the City. The days in the Palace seemed endless, filled with stilted conversation and people who saw me only as my father’s daughter, nothing more.
    I