Glass woke up gasping. Someone was shaking her shoulder with a cruel, cold grip.

The blond Protector peered down at her, her hair tied back in a tight bun. Glass’s mind reached for the woman’s name as her eyes adjusted to the dark, making out her severely beautiful features. Margot, Glass remembered. One of Soren’s advisors.

And at that realization, her heart clenched, her mind spooling back to that moment on the field when Soren had pointed to Glass. It must’ve been an order to Margot. The High Protector hadn’t approved of her little speech, and now Glass was going to find out what the consequences were.

Margot started dragging her upward by the armpit. Glass fought against her. “No, no, whatever I’ve done, I swear I’ll be better! I’ll keep my mouth shut, I’ll—”

“Shhh, you’ll wake the others,” Margot hissed. “Don’t be selfish, they need their rest for the workday ahead.”

It was such a mundane thing to say that Glass fell silent, more from confusion now than fear.

“I don’t know what she sees in you,” Margot whispered as Glass stood beside her. “But I trust you’ll prove yourself useful in time.”

Margot led her silently out of the room, tiptoeing around the sleeping forms of the other girls, some with their feet still stubbornly dangling off the side of the cots so their toes could touch the ground. Those were the true believers, Glass knew. She kept well clear of them.

Glass passed Anna’s cot and nearly jostled it with her foot to rouse her. It seemed like a good idea to have somebody witness her being led out of the dorms in the dark of night, but she didn’t want to risk alerting Margot.

Once they’d left the dorms, Margot turned back to lock the door. “Where are we going?” Glass dared to whisper.

“To Soren’s quarters,” Margot answered. “Mother keeps odd hours, so you’d best get used to wake-ups like this one.”

Glass kept pace, her brain catching up. She still found it disorienting how the Protectors called Soren “mother.” Were any of them really her children?

They turned left, continuing down the endless, roofless hall. Glass looked up at the stars winking in the predawn light and wondered where Luke was. Was he awake, exhausted and distraught, staring at the same stars as he crafted a plan to come rescue her? She wished there was a way to send him a message, to let him know that she was fine.

Margot stopped, motioning Glass up a wooden stairway that still smelled like sawdust. As she climbed up the stairs, Glass felt Margot’s hand on her shoulder. She winced, expecting an impatient shove. But, to her surprise, the touch was gentle.

Two guards in white stood at the top of the stairs, wearing their usual eerily blank expressions. Seeing Glass, they nodded—almost deferentially—and parted to let her pass.

Glass forced a smile over her shoulder and continued on with Margot, both of them emerging into a wide room. Its scorched cement floors were covered with woven rugs and a four-poster bed sat in the middle. In the corner of the room, a fire burned in a makeshift fireplace, a scrap-metal chimney sending the smoke safely through the ceiling and into the night sky.

Glass marveled for a moment at the beauty of the room, the many little luxuries here, before remembering that all of this was likely stolen. Who had spent hours upon hours weaving the red woolen blanket on Soren’s bed? Glass hadn’t seen much weaving or wool-spinning going on around here.

Before she could take any more in, Margot shuffled her toward a little antechamber just off the main room. There was a cot here, just like back in the dorms, but also a little washbasin, a warm rug on the floor, even a small cracked mirror on the wall.

Glass stared at herself in it with a ripple of shock. It had been so long since she’d seen her own reflection. She looked so thin, so tired… so sad. She reached out and touched the crack, half expecting her face to fade and disappear behind it.

Margot’s eyes traveled down to Glass’s starchy white nightgown. “You’re smaller than Dara. We’ll have to take in her dress. In the meantime, you can wear your old uniform.”

She tossed Glass’s white dress onto the bed. Glass blinked, surprised—she hadn’t even noticed Margot bundling up her things back at the dorm.

“Who is Dara?” Glass asked, drawing her arms around herself.

“Soren’s former maid,” Margot said briskly. “You’ll be replacing her.” Her eyes sharpened on Glass. “She was a lot like you, actually. Sharp mind. Loud mouth.”

Glass couldn’t read Margot’s smirk, but she felt suspicion swirling in her stomach. “What… happened to Dara?” She pinched the seams of her nightgown, bracing herself for the answer.

“She has risen,” came a voice from behind her.

Glass turned to see Soren standing in the doorway, languid and willowy, a slight smile on her face.

“Risen?” Glass asked carefully. Was that their word for dead?

In answer, Soren stepped back, beckoning another girl into the doorway—a broad-shouldered, dark-skinned girl in her early twenties wearing the gray dress of one of the High Protector’s advisors.

“Dara,” Margot said warmly, reaching out to squeeze the girl’s hands. “Sister.”

Dara beamed, then nodded politely to Glass. “Mother is particular,” she said. “You must have impressed her.”

“That she did.” Soren laughed, extending a hand for Glass to take. “And will continue to, I have no doubt.”

Glass’s head was spinning. “What am I meant to be doing, exactly?”

“Your first responsibility is to take a walk with me,” Soren said, gliding back into her chamber. “I’d like to see the Stone in the dawn light.”

Dara’s eyes met Glass’s. She mouthed, shoes, shawl, while Margot motioned to an open chest of clothing a few feet away. Glass hurried to it, drawing away a set of leather slippers and a thick woolen shawl. Dara nodded, and Glass took them to Soren.

Soren smiled in thanks, then squinted at Glass’s outfit. “Take one more for yourself, child, so you don’t catch a chill.”

Dara was already beside her, offering her a soft white cloak.

“Thank you,” Glass whispered, both flattered and confused by all the attention.

The Stone was quiet as dawn rose over it in waves of pink and yellow. Glass and Soren walked in surprisingly comfortable silence. Soren knew every little alleyway and shortcut through the labyrinthine structure, leaving Glass completely disoriented. Finally, Glass smelled something green and thick and heady, and knew exactly where they were heading: the Heart of the Stone.

“This is my favorite spot,” Soren said, stepping out of the building and into the sprawling courtyard. She led Glass into the trees, among the orchard. “I come here to think. And to talk.”

Soren smiled at Glass in an encouraging way, as if to say that Glass should start this conversation. So she blurted the first question on her mind.

“Why did you pick me as your maid?”

Soren brightened. “Because you ask questions like that. You have an honest heart and a bold mouth. But more than that…” She turned away, peering up at the light filtering from between the branches of the trees. “I like the way your mind works.”

Glass fought an incredulous laugh. In her entire life, no one but Luke had ever paid her that compliment.

“Some people look at the world and see only what they can take from it. What they can reap, steal, carry away.” Soren’s smile dropped as her expression grew thoughtful. “That’s useful, of course. That’s what we value in our raiders. But leaders need something more than that. They need to look around them and see what they can provide for others.” She motioned around her, her eyes glittering with mirth. “Like a field for planting, for example. Or an orchard.”

Glass felt her cheeks growing warm. “I don’t know why I said all that.”

“You said it because it’s true.” Soren smiled at her. “Your suggestions were wise, Glass. And, as it turns out, you were right.” Her smile widened, her face lit by a sudden ray of pink dawn light. “Earth has spoken to us. She wishes us to remain here. We’ll build our hearths for the winter, and when the spring comes”—she squeezed Glass’s shoulder and stepped away—“we’ll plant.”

Glass stared at her, unsure how to respond. Part of her was desperate for the Protectors to leave, to go somewhere far away, where they could never hurt the Colonists or the Earthborns again. She wanted to go home to Luke. But another part of her wasn’t ready to leave Soren and the way she made Glass feel when she smiled at her. Useful. Wanted. Valuable.

“We’ve stopped before, you know,” Soren said, her voice dropping low. “When I joined the Protectors as a girl, we lived far to the west. We’ve stopped twice since then, once for each generation, and now it’s time to plant again.”

Glass’s mind swirled with unasked questions: What does planting have to do with generations? Where in the west did you live? Why did you join them? But the question that rose to her mouth was, “Soren, why did you take us from our camp? Why not everyone?”

Soren stopped strolling, her hand slowly reaching for a low branch laden with plums. She touched the fruit gently, with just the tips of her fingers. “Earth has Her own rhythms, you’ll learn, Glass. It is not just foolish to ignore them; it is a great sin. And on Earth, there are takers and there are Protectors. We must stop the takers from harming Earth any more than they already have, while encouraging potential Protectors to bloom. Look at this plum. It’s beautiful. It’s alive. Growing and perfect, like all of the new members of our community.”

Glass’s breath caught, listening to the wonderment in Soren’s voice, watching the light dancing over the older woman’s face. The High Protector’s hair was loose and graying slightly, but there was something so beautiful and relaxed about her, like she was just one of the trees in the forest, swaying with them, reaching toward the dawn’s glow.

“Mother!” A young voice broke through the orchard’s quiet. Glass turned to see an out-of-breath preteen boy racing to greet Soren. “The men are back from the south. It was a success.”

“Earth be good!” Soren kissed the top of the boy’s head and he beamed.

“Blessings, Mother,” he said, blinking up at her.

“Blessings, Callum,” she answered back. Whether Soren was his real mother or not, she certainly played the role well. “I’ll be with them in just a moment.”

The boy sprinted away to deliver her message, and Soren turned to Glass.

“I’ll head straight to the barracks,” Soren said, pressing her hand to Glass’s wrist. “You go take some time for yourself. Explore a little and see what ideas pop up.”

As Glass watched Soren’s graceful figure walking away, another image seemed to take her place: a blond woman staring into the artificially lit mirror on Phoenix, her hair carefully curled and coiled, her gown cut low, her smile brittle, her eyes forever guarded.

What would my mother think of these people? Glass wondered. And what would Soren think of her?

Soren would think she was a taker, Glass realized. And she might have been right. Glass’s mother had loved her daughter, and would’ve done anything for her, but she’d also spent her life manipulating people to get what she wanted, from extra credits at the Exchange, to endless power rations for their apartment. Glass’s skin prickled as she remembered the coy glances her mother directed toward Vice Chancellor Rhodes, and the hungry, possessive looks she received in turn.

Glass peered up at the trees, touching a dangling plum with the tip of one careful finger.

Protector. After everything Soren said, it didn’t sound half as ominous anymore.