Wolf pulled back and cupped her face in his gigantic hands, still beaming. “In the tavern in Rieux, when all those men were making jokes about Cinder at the ball. You called them swine and you got up on the bar and defended her even though she was Lunar, and that was the moment I started to fall in love with you.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks. “Why are you…?”
“No Lunar would know that.” His grin turned impish. “So I can’t be a Lunar trick.”
Her lips parted in understanding, and another sniff turned into a laugh. “You’re right.” She thought back, to a time before she knew about mutant soldiers and missing Lunar princesses. “When you came to the farm and I thought I would have to shoot you. You told me to aim for the torso because it’s a bigger target, then laughed when I said your head looked big enough to me.” She dug her fingers into his shirt. “That’s when I…”
He kissed her again, molding their bodies together.
A high-pitched whistle sounded over the clattering rocks, startling her. Pulling away, she saw Cinder and Thorne—the source of the whistle—along with a dark-skinned girl with blue hair who had her hands pressed dreamily against her cheeks.
It was such a welcome sight, Scarlet started crying again. Disentangling herself from Wolf’s arms, she hobbled to her feet. He was quick to join her, one arm encircling her shoulders. “I can’t believe it. You’re here. On Luna.”
“We’re here,” agreed Thorne. “And if you’d bothered to RSVP, we would have brought you a snack.” His eyes skimmed down her body. “When was the last time you ate?”
Scarlet glanced down. Her clothes hung from her bones, her muscles withered to almost nothing in the tiny cage. Still, he didn’t need to point it out.
“You look lovely,” said the blue-haired girl. “A little rough around the edges, but it adds character.”
“Um, thanks,” said Scarlet, swiping the tears from her cheeks. “And you are…?”
The girl bounced on her toes. “It’s me, Iko! The captain found me a real body.”
Scarlet’s eyebrows jotted upward. This was Iko? Their spaceship?
Before she could reply, a sweet singing voice floated through the alley.
“The parakeets sing ta-weet-a-weet-a-weet, and the stars twinkle all the night…”
Four pairs of eyes swiveled toward the cart that was now full of shimmering white rock, though the shaft from the building had fallen silent. At some point, Winter had crawled behind it, wedging herself between the cart and the wall. Scarlet could see the top of the red hood pulled over Winter’s hair.
“And the monkeys frolic a-eet-eet-eet, while the rockets fly on by…”
Cinder approached the cart with her brow drawn and rolled it away. Winter was curled up on her side, facing the wall and drawing little designs into the dust. The tablecloth had fallen open, revealing her blood-covered skirt.
“And the Earth is full tonight, tonight, and the wolves all howl, aa-ooooooooooh…”
The dainty howl faded away.
Scarlet could feel everyone’s curious gazes switching between her and the princess. She cleared her throat. “She’s harmless,” she said. “I’m pretty sure.”
Winter rolled onto her back so she was staring at Cinder upside-down.
Cinder’s eyes widened. The others crept forward.
After three slow blinks, Winter rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up to her knees. She turned down the hood, letting her thick hair tumble out around her shoulders. “Hello.”
Scarlet started laughing again. She remembered what it was like seeing the princess for the first time. Her full lips, delicate shoulders, huge eyes flecked with shavings of gray, all paired with the unexpected scars on her right cheek that should have made her less stunning but didn’t.
It occurred to Scarlet that Wolf hadn’t seemed to notice. She felt a little twinge of pride.
“Stars,” whispered Iko. “You’re beautiful.”
A loud click echoed through the alley. “Drop your glamour,” demanded Thorne, aiming a gun at the princess.
Scarlet’s pulse hiccuped. “Wait—” she started, but Cinder had already put a hand on his wrist and was pressing the gun back down.
“It’s not a glamour,” she said.
“Really?” Thorne leaned toward Cinder and whispered, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
This statement was followed by another long, heady silence, during which Winter passed her sweetest smile between each of them.
Thorne clicked the safety on and shoved the gun back into its holster. “Holy spades, you Lunars have good genes.” An awkward pause followed, before he added, “Who is she?”
“This is Winter,” said Scarlet. “Princess Winter.”
Thorne guffawed and pushed a hand into his hair. “Are we running a boardinghouse for misplaced royalty around here, or what?”
“Princess Winter?” said Cinder. “They just announced that you were murdered.”
“Jacin faked the murder,” said Scarlet, “and helped us escape.”
Cinder’s eyes flashed toward her, surprised. “Jacin?”
Scarlet nodded. “The guard who attacked us aboard the Rampion.”
A shadow fell over Cinder’s expression. She looked away.
“She’s just so pretty.” Iko sighed, feeling her own face for comparison.
Scarlet glared. “She can hear.”
Cocking her head, Winter held out a hand toward Thorne. His eyes widened and it seemed an automatic response to help her to her feet.
He was blushing when Winter took her hand away and adjusted her skirt. “You are all very kind,” she said, but it was Cinder that her attention had landed on. She studied the cyborg, curious. Cinder scrunched her shoulders in tight to her body. “And you,” said Winter, “are my long-lost cousin and very dear friend. I could not believe it until now, but it is true.” Winter took Cinder’s hands into hers. “Do you remember me?”
Cinder slowly shook her head.
“It’s all right,” said Winter, and her expression said that it was all right. “My memories are hazy too, and I’m a year older. Still, I hope we can be good friends again.” She interlaced their fingers. “This hand is unusual,” she said, lifting the titanium-plated one. “Is it made of ashes?”
“Is it made … I’m sorry, what?”
“Don’t,” said Scarlet, waving a hand. “I find it’s better if you don’t ask.”
The princess grinned again. “Forgive me. You are no longer only my friend or my cousin, and this is no way to greet you.” She dropped into a dancer’s curtsy and placed a kiss on Cinder’s metal knuckle. “My Queen, it is my honor to serve you.”
“Er—thank you?” Cinder pried her hand away and hid it behind her back. “That’s kind, but you don’t have to do that. Again. Ever.”
Thorne cleared his throat. “We need to get back to the house. We’ve already risked drawing enough attention, and she…” He looked at Winter. There was an edge to his expression, like he didn’t trust anyone who was more attractive than he was. “… will definitely draw attention.”
Thirty-Three
Wolf helped Scarlet clean and bandage her wounded finger without asking her to tell him what, exactly, had happened. Though his expression had said he was ready to tear out Queen Levana’s jugular, his hands had been breathlessly gentle. Afterward, Scarlet insisted she be given time to bathe, and though Wolf had looked borderline devastated, the time apart was worthwhile. The tiny washroom in his childhood home was by no means luxurious, but it was a far cry from the trough she’d had in the menagerie, and she felt brand-new when she emerged. She and Winter were given new clothes out of Maha Kesley’s meager stash while theirs were washed, though Scarlet was already anxious to have her hoodie back. It had become her own personal armor.
“I can’t believe you kidnapped Prince Kai,” she said, untacking the curtain on the front window to peek outside. Blue daisies in a window box were a solitary spot of colo
r.
“Emperor Kai,” Wolf corrected. He was leaning against the wall, holding the hem of her shirt in his fingers. Winter was taking her turn in the washroom while the others had crowded into the kitchen, trying to cobble together enough food for everyone. Scarlet had heard someone mention rations, and it occurred to her that this tiny household wasn’t meant to support guests, especially so many. Wolf’s mom would be back soon from collecting that week’s supply of food, but of course, that was meant for only one woman.
Scarlet tried to imagine what this must be like for Wolf. To return home more than a decade after being taken away, a grown man with scars and fangs and the blood of countless victims on his hands.
And now … with a girl.
Scarlet was trying not to think about meeting his mother—it all felt too strange.
“Emperor, right.” She retacked the curtain. “That’s weird to say, after eighteen years of listening to celebrity gossip feeds go on and on about ‘Earth’s favorite prince.’” She claimed one of the lumpy sofa cushions, curling her legs beneath her. “I had a picture of him taped to my wall when I was fifteen. Grand-mère cut it off a cereal box.”
Wolf scowled.
“Of course, half the girls in the world probably had that same picture from that same cereal box.”
Wolf scrunched his shoulders against his neck, and Scarlet grinned, teasing. “Oh, no. You’re not going to have to fight him for pack dominance now, are you? Come here.” She beckoned him with a wave of her hand and he was at her side in half a second, the glower softening as he pulled her against his chest.
His brazenness was new—so different from the shyness she’d grown accustomed to. On the Rampion, Wolf was always pattering around his feelings, like he didn’t want to risk the tentative trust they’d started to rebuild since Paris.
Now, when he kissed her or put his arms around her, Scarlet felt like he was staking a claim. Which normally would have sent her on a tirade about relationship independence, except she felt like she’d claimed him a long time ago. The moment she’d expected him to choose her over his pack, the moment she’d dragged him aboard that ship and taken him away from everything he’d ever known, she’d made the decision for them both. He was hers now, just like she was his.
Except she wondered if everything had changed between them, once again. She’d figured he would come back to the farm with her when all this was over, but now he’d been reunited with his mom, the only family he had left. Scarlet could no longer assume she was the most important thing to him, and she knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to choose between her and the family he’d been taken away from. Not now, and maybe not ever.
In the kitchen, a cupboard slammed, saving her from thoughts she wasn’t ready for. Not when she’d just found him again. She heard Thorne say something about freeze-dried cardboard and Iko accuse him of being insensitive to those without any taste buds at all.
Scarlet nestled her head against Wolf’s shoulder. “I was so worried about you.”
“You were worried?” Wolf angled her away from him. “Scarlet—they took you, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I didn’t know if you were dead, or if they were…” He shuddered. “I would have killed every one of them to get to you. I would have done anything to get you back. Knowing that we were coming here was the only thing that kept me sane.” His brow creased. “Though there were a couple times when I went a little insane anyway.”
Scarlet nudged him with her elbow. “That shouldn’t sound as romantic as it does.”
“Dinner is served,” said Thorne, coming out of the kitchen with a plate in each hand. “And by dinner, I mean soggy brown rice and oversalted meat on stale crackers. You Lunars sure know how to live it up.”
“We were trying to only take things from the pantry,” said Cinder, as she and Iko filed into the front room, though there was hardly enough space for everyone. “There isn’t much in the way of fresh food, and Maha’s already given us enough.”
Scarlet glanced at Wolf. “I assumed you’d never had tomatoes or carrots before because those things couldn’t be grown here on Luna, but that’s not the case, is it? They just don’t ship them to the outer sectors.”
He shrugged, without a hint of self-pity. “I don’t know what they can and can’t grow in the agriculture sectors. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can’t compete with Benoit Farms and Gardens.” His eyes twinkled, and Scarlet—to her own surprise—started to blush again.
“You two are giving me a stomachache,” Thorne griped.
“I’m pretty sure that’s the meat,” said Cinder, ripping a piece of dried mystery meat with her teeth.
The food wasn’t appetizing, but it was no worse than what she’d gotten in the menagerie, and Scarlet ate her small share with relish. Winter emerged from the washroom, her dark ringlets still dripping and the too-short pants and ill-fitted blouse doing nothing to lessen her beauty. A hush fell over the group as she joined them, kneeling on the floor around the small table and scanning the food with sad, distant eyes.
Scarlet spoke first, pushing a couple of crackers across the table. “I know it’s not what you’re used to,” she said, “but you have to eat something.”
Offense flashed across Winter’s face. “I’m not particular.” Her expression softened as she stared at the crackers. “I just hadn’t realized how much I’d been given. I knew conditions were bad in the outer sectors, but not as bad as this. Others have gone hungry so my stomach might be full each night.” Sighing, she sat back on her heels and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m not hungry, anyway. Someone else can have mine.”
“Winter—”
“I’m not hungry.” Her voice was sterner than Scarlet had ever heard it. “I couldn’t eat it if I tried.”
Scarlet frowned, but let it go. Wolf eventually ate the crackers, looking guilty about it.
“You said Jacin told you where to find us?” said Cinder. Her shoulders were tense, and it had been clear from the moment Scarlet had explained what she could about their escape that Jacin wasn’t popular with her friends. “How did he know?”
“I would imagine,” said Winter, “that your miniature friend told him.”
“Our miniature friend?” asked Cinder.
Winter nodded. “Cress, isn’t it?”
Silence expanded over them, drawing all the oxygen from the room.
Thorne leaned forward first. “Cress? You’ve seen Cress?”
“I haven’t seen her in days, but Jacin was keeping her safe.”
“Oh! That reminds me.” Scarlet dug out the small cylinder. “Jacin gave this to me and said it had a message from a friend in it. Maybe he meant her—Cress?”
Thorne snatched it away before she’d finished talking and flipped the cylinder over in his palm. “What is it? How do we work it?”
Cinder grabbed it away from him and inserted it into the holograph node on the wall. A holograph flickered to life in the center of the room.
Scarlet wouldn’t have recognized the queen’s hacker, having only seen her once through a comm link. The girl’s long, unruly hair had been chopped short and her skin, though still pale, had at least seen the sun in the recent past.
Thorne launched himself from his seat, circling the room to put himself in front of the holograph as she began to speak.
“Hello, everyone. If you’re seeing this, our good friends from the palace must have found you. I wish I could have joined them. My current guardian gave me the option of leaving, but I had to stay behind to assist with their travels. I know you’ll understand. I wanted you to know I’m all right, though. I’m safe and unhurt, and I know you’ll come for me. When you do, I’ll be ready. Until then, I promise to be careful and stay hidden.” She paused. A fleeting smile crossed her lips, like proof of her courage, though her eyes stayed anxious. After a deep breath, she continued, “My absence has probably changed some things for you, and I know you were relying on me for help with some of your plans. I’ve built a program into this
file. Insert this cylinder into the universal port in the dome’s broadcast receiver and follow the prompts I’ve set up for you. On the chance this could fall into the wrong hands, I have locked the program with the same passcode we used on the ship.” Her lashes dipped, and there was that weak smile again. “I hope this message reaches you safely. I … I miss you.” She opened her mouth to say more, but hesitated and shut it again. A second later, the message ended.
They stared at the empty air where Cress had been. Scarlet fidgeted with her hoodie’s zipper, knowing for sure now that the girl had been the one watching over her and Winter during their escape. She had saved them, and sacrificed her own safety to do it.
“Brave, stupid girl,” Thorne muttered. He sank back down to the floor, his expression torn between relief and increased distress.
“She’s still with Jacin, then,” said Cinder. “I guess … I’m grateful for what he’s done, but … I don’t like him knowing where we are, or being responsible for Cress. I don’t trust him.”
Winter stared at her, aghast. “Jacin is a good person. He would never betray you, or Cress.”
“Too late,” said Thorne. “He already did once.”
Winter laced her fingers together. “He regrets betraying you. It was never his intention. He only … he had to come back to Luna. For me.”
Iko made a noise that was probably meant to be a snort. Scarlet cocked her head to inspect the android. What had been endearing tics when she had been the Rampion’s control system were a little disconcerting in her humanoid body.
“It’s true,” Winter insisted, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I understand why you don’t trust him, but he’s trying to make amends. He wants to see you back on your throne as much as anyone.”
“He did save my life,” added Scarlet. Then, after a pause, she shrugged. “Probably just because he needed me to save her life, but still, it has to count for something.”
Thorne crossed his arms and said grudgingly, “I wish he would have tried a little harder to send Cress with you.”
“At least we know she’s alive,” said Cinder.