Alek

"Tell me if anything hurts."

She sighs. "Everything barking hurts. I've mostly stopped noticing it. Just fix me, all right?"

I nod and inspect my work so far. The problem is, as much as I don't want to admit it, metal is dead. It has no feeling by itself, no way to really live. To make a functioning arm, you need Darwinist technology. And living things are quite difficult to keep alive. The nerves that need to be strung through the mechaniks just shrivel up if left exposed. I have to find some way to keep them safe and still functioning, which would be hard enough if I wasn't a Clanker. But I'm the only one who understands the basics of both technologies, so it has to be me.

Deryn is standing in the middle of the floor, arms held out, an impatient expression flitting across her face. I can't blame her. I've been poking and prodding at her for over an hour now. Carefully, of course. Now that I know she's female, it's a little different. Strange.

I try a new prototype of Dr. Barlow's, winding it through the mechanikal parts in a way that should keep it protected. The fabricated nerves have been used before, for less drastic operations. Still, I don't like them. Maybe it's the way they worm their way into the person's skin, finding access to wherever they need to build connections. I'm not sure of the specifics. The whole thing faintly nauseates me.

The combination of Clanker and Darwinist fascinates me, though. Even the Americans are more prone to using one or the other, not both at the same time. I imagine writing a new textbook on engineering, creating a whole new brand of technology. Then I remember - princes do not write textbooks. This life, however much I may enjoy it, will have to be left behind soon.

I glance up at Deryn again. She knows more about being born in the wrong world than I ever gave her credit for. She's wincing now, but stubbornly not admitting to her pain. From Dr. Barlow's reports, a good part of her shoulder is burned badly. And the reminders of burning shrapnel are visible on her face, a constellation of circular silver scars like freckles dotting the left side of her face. Now that I can look, I can see the feminine cast of her features. How had I ever missed it?

"Barking Spiders!" she curses as I tinker with the - her - metal fingers. "I felt that one."

"Good. That means we're getting somewhere." I stand up. "I'll tell Dr. Barlow the last nerve type seems to be working. She'll be able to fabricate some more soon."

"Aye, if I hand over more of my life threads like a good little girl."

I flinch at the expression, sparking some residual confusion in my mind. She frowns, noticing it.

"Alek... I'm really sorry. For not telling you."

I shrug, trying to show her that it's no big deal. And it isn't - is it? "I understand. We all have secrets we want to stay concealed." I laugh once, hoping not too much bitterness leaks through. "But I've learned they never stay under wraps as long as you hope."

"I suppose so." She pauses, stretching out her human arm fretfully. "Thanks... for not being angry."

"I'll never be angry with you," I say, not sure where the words are coming from. But it's too late to take them back now. I leave the room, to find Dr. Barlow. Time to play a Darwinist again.