Jacin rocked back on his heels. Winter expected him to chastise her for doing something so dangerous and right in front of the queen, no less. But instead, after a long hesitation, he asked, “What did she look like?”
“Small. Short blonde hair. Afraid.” Remembering the girl’s terrified expression made Winter shiver. “Maybe she tried to rejoin her companions. Or … or maybe she’s back on the emperor’s ship?”
Jacin’s gaze had unfocused. “Cress,” he whispered, turning around. He released Winter’s elbow and bounded back up the crates, vaulting onto the platform overhead.
“What? Jacin?” She lifted her skirt over her knees and hurried after him. By the time she’d managed to get back up onto the platform, Jacin was in the control booth, yanking open cabinets filled with wires and cords and computer parts that Winter didn’t comprehend.
He found the girl behind the third door he opened, her body curled into such a tight ball Winter couldn’t believe she hadn’t suffocated. Her wide eyes attached to Jacin and widened, impossibly, further.
Winter staggered to a halt as Jacin reached into the cabinet and pulled the girl out. The girl yelped, trying to regain her footing as Jacin shoved the door shut behind her. She pried her arm out of his grip and backed against the wall, trembling like a caged animal.
Rather than reaching for her again, Jacin took a step back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He cursed. “Princess, you have got to stop collecting these rebels.”
Ignoring him, Winter drifted toward the girl, her hands placating. “We won’t hurt you,” she cooed. “It’s all right.”
The girl spared her a hasty glance before turning back to Jacin. Terrified, but also angry.
“My name is Winter,” she said. “Are you hurt?”
“We can’t stay here,” said Jacin. “The cameras will be coming on again any minute. It’s a miracle they haven’t already.”
The girl continued to stare at him with her timid ferocity.
“Wait.” Jacin laughed. “You disabled them, didn’t you?”
The girl said nothing.
Winter swiveled her attention from her to Jacin. “She disabled them?”
“This girl used to be the queen’s best-kept secret. She can find her way around any computer system.” He crossed his arms, his stern expression softening into an almost smile. “You’re the one who’s been messing with the shuttles too.”
The girl’s lips thinned into a line.
“What’s your name?” asked Winter.
When the girl still didn’t respond, Jacin answered, “Her name is Cress. She’s a shell and one of Linh Cinder’s allies.” He scratched his temple. “I don’t suppose you have a plan as to what we’re supposed to do with her?”
“We could sneak her up to the guest wing? I’m sure the Earthen emperor would watch over her. He did help them get here, after all.”
Jacin shook his head. “He’s under too much security. We’d never get her close. Besides, the fewer people who know you helped her, the less chance of Levana finding out.”
The girl—Cress—seemed to be relaxing as it became apparent Winter and Jacin weren’t going to have her executed. Winter smiled at her. “I’ve never met a shell before. What a marvelous gift. I can’t sense you at all, like you’re not even there, even though you’re standing right in front of me.” Her grin broadened. “That would drive my stepmother mad.”
“It was a shell who killed the last king and queen,” said Jacin. “Maybe we can turn her into an assassin.”
Winter turned to him, aghast. “Does she look like an assassin?”
He shrugged. “Does she look like she’s capable of disabling our entire maglev system?”
“I didn’t disable it.” Cress’s voice was meek, but Winter was so surprised to hear her speak, she might as well have shouted. “I changed the access parameters so the queen couldn’t shut it down.”
Jacin stared at her. “But you could disable it, if you wanted to.”
After a beat, the girl dropped her gaze to the floor.
“We have to find someplace to keep her,” said Winter, tugging on a curl of hair. “Somewhere safe.”
“Why?” said Cress. “Why are you helping me?”
Winter didn’t know if she was asking her or Jacin, but Jacin answered first with a grumbled “Good question.”
Winter shoved him hard in the shoulder. He barely shifted.
“Because it’s the right thing to do. We’re going to protect you. Aren’t we, Jacin?”
When Jacin said nothing, Winter shoved him again. “Aren’t we?”
Jacin sighed. “I think we can sneak her into the guard quarters. It’s not far and we won’t have to go into the main part of the castle.”
With obvious disbelief, Cress said, “You’re going to protect me?”
“Rather against my will,” said Jacin, “but it looks like it.”
“For as long as we can,” said Winter. “And, if the opportunity arises, we’ll do our best to reunite you with your friends.”
For the first time, Cress’s defenses began to slip. “They got away?”
“It would seem so. They haven’t been found yet, as far as I can tell.”
“But the queen won’t stop looking,” added Jacin, as if either of them weren’t aware.
Cress had stopped trembling. Her expression became thoughtful as she stared at Jacin. Finally, she asked, “I don’t suppose the guard quarters have access to the royal broadcasting network?”
Twenty-Four
Their progress through Luna’s outer sectors was slow and tedious. Sometimes taking maglev shuttles, sometimes walking through the tunnels, sometimes using Wolf’s identity to send a shuttle on without them before skipping to a different platform and heading in the opposite direction. Sometimes they split up and rejoined one another a couple of sectors over, to confuse any security personnel looking for a group of two men and two women traveling together.
They kept their heads down. Iko kept her hair hidden beneath her cap. Cinder fidgeted with her gloves to be sure her metal hand wouldn’t be seen on any of the cameras. Though they avoided what surveillance cameras they could, she knew they couldn’t miss them all. She hoped there were so many surveillance feeds on Luna they couldn’t possibly all be monitored.
Though they occasionally ventured up to the surface in order to switch to a different shuttle line, they avoided it when they could. Wolf warned them that most of the outer sectors were manned by armed guards. Though they were meant to be there for the security of the people, it seemed they spent more time punishing anyone who dared to speak out against the crown. The few times they did sneak up into the surface domes, they managed to go unassaulted in their disguises and cowed postures, but Cinder knew it wouldn’t be long before security measures were increased all over Luna.
They barely talked. Cinder spent the hours mulling over the battle in the docks, folding every misstep over in her head again and again, trying to determine a way she could have gotten them all away safely, trying to rescue Cress, trying to keep Kai out of Levana’s clutches.
She never found a good solution.
The constant churning of her thoughts threatened to drive her mad.
The farther they traveled from Artemisia, the more their surroundings changed. It began to feel like they’d stepped into a different world altogether. Judging from how opulent the royal docks were, Cinder had constructed an image in her head of how beautiful all of Luna must be. But it soon became clear that the outer sectors received none of the capital’s luxuries. Each platform they passed held new signs of neglect—crumbling stone walls and flickering lights. Graffiti scribbled onto the tunnel walls spoke of unrest.
SHE’S WATCHING…, read one message, painted in white upon the black cave walls. Another asked, HAVE YOU SEEN MY SON?
“How would we know if we had?” Iko asked. “They didn’t leave a description.”
“I think it’s meant to be thought provoking,” said Cinder.
r /> Iko frowned, looking unprovoked.
They stopped when they heard a shuttle approaching or when they had to wait for a platform to clear, relishing their brief respites before moving on. They had brought a couple packs of food rations—not knowing when they would have an opportunity to find more—and Cinder doled them out in small increments, even though no one was all that hungry.
Though Cinder knew she couldn’t be the only one whose back was sore and legs were aching, no one complained. Iko alone kept a graceful bounce to her step, having been fully charged before they left Kai’s ship.
By shuttle, this trip should have lasted only a couple of hours. By the time they finally arrived at their destination, Cinder’s internal clock told her they had left Artemisia over nineteen hours ago.
When they emerged from the darkened tunnel onto the shuttle platform of RM-9: REGOLITH MINING, the elaborate beauty of Artemisia felt like a distant dream. Gone were the glistening tiles and intricate statues, gone were the polished woods and glowing orbs. This platform was dark and cold and tasted of still, sterile air. Every surface was covered in a layer of dust, years of footprints pressed into it. Cinder brushed her hand across a wall and her fingers came away coated in gray.
“Regolith dust,” said Wolf. “It covers everything out here.”
Iko pressed both of her palms against one wall. When she pulled away, two handprints remained, perfect, yet lacking the normal creases of a human palm.
“Doesn’t seem healthy,” Thorne muttered.
“It’s not.” Wolf swiped at his nose, like the dust was tickling him. “It gets in your lungs. Regolith sickness is common.”
Cinder clenched her teeth and added unhealthy living and work conditions to her long list of problems she was going to address when she was queen.
Iko smeared her dust-covered hands on her pants. “It feels abandoned.”
“Everyone’s working, either in the mines or the factories.”
Cinder checked her internal clock, which she had synced with Lunar time before leaving the Rampion. “We have about eight minutes before the workday ends.” She turned to Wolf. “We can wait here, or we can try to find your parents’ house. What do you want to do?”
He looked conflicted as he peered up a set of narrow, uneven steps. “We should wait here. There aren’t many reasons for people to be on the streets during work hours. We’d be too obvious.” He gulped. “Besides, they might not be there. My parents might be dead.”
He tried to say it with nonchalance, but he failed.
“All right,” said Cinder, stealing back into the shadows of the tunnel. “How far are we from the factories?”
Wolf’s brow was drawn, and she could see him straining to remember the details of his childhood home. “Not far. I remember them all being clustered near the dome’s center. We should be able to blend in with the laborers as soon as the day ends.”
“And the mines?”
“Those are farther away. There are two mine entrances on the other side of the dome. Regolith is one of the few natural resources Luna has, so it’s a big industry.”
“So…,” started Thorne, scratching his ear, “your best resource is … rocks?”
Wolf shrugged. “We have a lot of them.”
“Not just rock,” said Cinder, as her net database fed her an abundance of unsolicited information. “Regolith is full of metals and compounds too. Iron and magnesium in the highlands, aluminum and silica in the lowlands.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “I figured all of the metal would have had to come from Earth.”
“A lot of it did, ages ago,” said Wolf. “We’ve become experts at recycling the materials that were brought up from Earth during colonization. But we’ve also learned to make do. Most new construction uses materials mined from regolith—stone, metal, soil … Almost the entire city of Artemisia was built from regolith.” He paused. “Well, and wood. We grow trees in the lumber sectors.”
Cinder stopped listening. She had already educated herself as well as she could on Luna’s resources and industries. Though, for their purposes, she’d spent most of her time researching Lunar media and transportation.
It was all controlled by the government, of course. Levana didn’t want the outer sectors to have easy communication with one another. The less interaction her citizens had with each other, the more difficult it would be for them to form a rebellion.
A series of chimes pealed through the tunnel, making her jump. A short melody followed.
“The Lunar anthem,” said Wolf, his expression dark, as if he had long harbored a deep hatred for the song.
The anthem was followed by a pleasant female voice: “This workday has ended. Stamp your times and retire to your homes. We hope you enjoyed this workday and look forward to your return tomorrow.”
Thorne grunted. “How considerate.”
Soon they could hear the drumming footsteps of exhausted workers pouring into the streets.
Wolf cocked his head, indicating it was time, and led them up the steps. They emerged into artificial daylight, where the dome’s curved glass blocked out the glow of stars. This sector was not much of an improvement over the tunnels below. Cinder was staring at a patchwork of browns and grays. Narrow streets and run-down buildings that had no glass in their windows. And dust, dust, so much dust.
Cinder found herself shrinking away from the first sparse groups of people they saw—instinct telling her to stay hidden—but no one even glanced at them. The people they passed looked weary and filthy, hardly talking.
Wolf rolled his shoulders, his gaze darting over the buildings, the dust-covered streets, the artificial sky. Cinder wondered if he was embarrassed they were seeing this glimpse into his past, and she tried to imagine Wolf as a normal child, with parents who loved him and a home he grew up in. Before he was taken away and turned into a predator.
It was impossible to think that every member of Levana’s army, every one of those mutants, had started out this way too. How many of them had been grateful to be given the chance to get away from these sectors with the dust that coated their homes and filled their lungs?
How many had been devastated to leave their families behind?
The graffiti echoed back at her: Have you seen my son?
Wolf pointed down one of the narrow streets. “This way. The residential streets are mostly in the outer rings of the sector.”
They followed, trying to mimic the dragging feet and lowered heads of the laborers. It was difficult, when Cinder’s own adrenaline was singing, her heartbeat starting to race.
The first part of her plan had already gone horribly wrong. She didn’t know what she would do if this failed too. She needed Wolf’s parents to be alive, to be allies. She needed the security they could offer—a safe place to hide while they figured out what they were going to do without Cress.
It was as far ahead as she could think.
Find a sanctuary.
Then she would start worrying about revolutions.
They hadn’t gone far from the maglev tunnel when Cinder spotted the first guards, in full uniform, each clutching ominous guns in their arms. Unlike the civilians, their noses and mouths were covered to protect them from the dust.
Cinder shivered at the sight of them and cast her attention around, searching for the signature aura of a thaumaturge. She had never known a guard to be far from one, but she didn’t sense any here.
How was it possible that a few weak-minded guards could hold such power over hundreds of gifted civilians? Though she guessed the Lunars in these outer sectors wouldn’t be nearly as strong as Levana or her court, surely they could manipulate a few guards?
No sooner had she questioned it than the answer came to her.
These guards may not have a thaumaturge with them, but the threat was still there, implied in their very presence. The people of this sector could revolt. They could have these guards killed or enslaved easily. But such an act of defiance would bring the wrath of the queen down o
n them. The next guards that came would not be without the protection of a thaumaturge, and retribution would not be merciful.
When they passed by the guards, Cinder made sure to keep her face turned away.
They shuffled through the dome’s center, where a water fountain stood in the middle of a dust-covered courtyard, forcing the crowd to flow around it. The fountain was carved into the figure of a woman, her head veiled and crowned, clear water pouring from her outspread hands as if she were offering life itself to the people who crossed her path.
The sight of it made the blood freeze in Cinder’s veins. Levana had been queen for barely over a decade, yet she’d already put her mark on these far-reaching sectors.
Such a beautiful, serene fountain, but it felt like a threat.
They followed the dispersing crowd through blocks of factories and warehouses that smelled of chemicals, before the industrial buildings gave way to houses.
Though houses was a relative term. More like shacks, these homes were as unplanned and patched together as the overcrowded Phoenix Tower Apartments in New Beijing. Now Cinder understood what Wolf meant by how they had become experts at recycling materials. Every wall and roof looked like it had been cut and chopped and resoldered and rebolted and twisted and reconfigured again. As there was no weather to rust or corrode the materials, they were left to deteriorate at the hands of people. Houses pulled apart and reconstituted as families moved and changed and grew. The entire neighborhood was a ramshackle assortment of metal sheets and wood panels and stray materials left abandoned in the spaces between, waiting to be given a new use.
Wolf froze.
Nerves humming, Cinder scanned the nearby windows and opened the tip of her pointer finger in preparation for an attack. “What is it?”
Wolf didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He was focused on a house down the street, unblinking.
“Wolf?”
His breath rattled. “It might be nothing, but I think … I thought I smelled my mother. A soap that seemed familiar … though I didn’t have these senses last time I saw her. It might not…”