The silence that followed felt like it had taken over the whole sector and Iko questioned if that last gunshot had permanently damaged her audio.
The guard was staring at the gun in his hand as if he’d never seen it before. “That’s the first time I pulled the trigger myself.” Inhaling deeply, he set his gun on the counter and crouched over Princess Winter. He reached back to inspect her head. His fingers came away bloodied.
“She’s breathing,” he said, “but she might have a concussion.”
Iko’s processor stumbled. “Whose side are you on?”
He looked up. His nose twitched as he took in the bullet hole again, but his gaze didn’t linger on it. “We were told the princess was dead. I thought another guard killed her.”
Iko arranged the folds of her shirt to cover her wound. “A guard named Jacin was ordered by the queen to kill her, but he helped her escape instead.”
“Jacin Clay.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why did you help us?”
With a tense brow, Kinney eased the princess back onto the floor. There was blood everywhere. From the thaumaturge. From Jerrico. From Winter.
“I helped her,” said Kinney, as if the distinction was important. He found the dish towel Iko had started to suffocate Mistress Pereira with and tied it around Winter’s head, bandaging the wound as well as he could. When he finished, he stood and picked up the bloodied knife.
Iko stepped back.
He paused. “Do you want me to cut those cords or not?”
She searched his face, wishing she didn’t feel so compelled to keep staring at it. “Yes, please?”
She turned around and he made quick work of freeing her. She half expected to find split skin fragments when she held up her hands, but the blade hadn’t so much as nicked her.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” said Kinney, gesturing to the gun still on the counter. Iko could tell he didn’t like looking at her. He kept finding reasons to look away. “I’m going to make up a report telling them you wrestled the gun away from me and killed Mistress Pereira and Sir Solis, then managed to get away. I’m not going to tell them anything about seeing the princess. They don’t even have to know she’s still alive.” He pointed at her nose, daring to hold her gaze for longer than half a second. “And you are going to get her far away from here. Keep her hidden.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “And here we were just keeping her holed up in a tiny little house in a completely random mining sector. Why didn’t it ever occur to us to try and keep her hidden?”
Kinney’s face was unreadable for a long moment before he asked, “You understand sarcasm?”
“Of course I understand sarcasm,” she spat. “It’s not like it’s theoretical physics, is it?”
The guard’s jaw worked for a moment, before he shook his head and turned away. “Just take care of her.” He checked on the princess one more time and then he was gone.
Forty-Two
Cinder and Wolf were taken to an underground cargo port crowded with battered delivery ships and three royal pods, which explained why the arrival of their enemies hadn’t set off any alarms. Cinder had only posted watch at the maglev platform.
She berated herself, hoping she would someday have a chance to learn from this mistake.
With her wrists shackled, Cinder felt like her arms might come out of their sockets. Though Wolf walked behind her, she could sense his energy—ragged and lethal. Shuddering with fear for Scarlet. Hollow and devastated over what they had done to Maha.
A royal guard was waiting. His hair was disheveled but his expression was empty.
“Report,” said Aimery. He was walking with a limp and Cinder fantasized about kicking him right where the bullet had entered.
“Mistress Pereira and Sir Solis are dead.”
Aimery lifted an eyebrow. He seemed nothing but curious at this unexpected statement. “How?”
“We were ambushed inside the Kesley house by an Earthen android,” said the guard.
Cinder’s heart leaped.
“A brawl ensued. The android was immune to mental manipulation, nor did bullets do much to affect her. She … it suffocated Mistress Pereira, after which I engaged it in hand-to-hand combat. It disarmed me and used my gun to shoot both Sir Solis and our thamaturge. While the android was distracted, I managed to lodge my knife into its back, severing its … spine, of sorts. That successfully disabled it.”
A headache pulsed behind Cinder’s eyes, the sign of tears that would never come. First Maha, now Iko …
“With the threat removed, I conducted a thorough search of the rest of the house and surrounding properties,” the guard continued. “I found no other accomplices.”
It was the smallest relief. Winter, at least, had not been discovered, and as far as Cinder could tell, neither had Thorne or Scarlet.
Aimery stared a long time at the guard, as if he were searching for a flaw in the story. “What became of the android?”
“I found and destroyed what I believe was its power source,” said the guard. “I threw what was left into the public trash compactor.”
“No!” Cinder staggered, but the guard behind her hefted her back to her feet.
The guard cast her the briefest of glances, before adding, “I left the bodies behind. Shall I return for them?”
Aimery waved a careless hand. “We will send a crew.”
New clomping emanated from the stairwell. Still shuddering from the news of Iko’s loss, Cinder barely managed to lift her head. She glimpsed Wolf, watching her. Though his eyes were sympathetic, his jaw was tense with anger.
They had both lost someone dear to them today.
Cinder felt like she was suffocating, like her ribs were tightening around her lungs, but she pulled strength from Wolf’s presence. Her fury started to build. Her sorrow became dry kindling, quick to ignite.
She found her footing again, and though she couldn’t extricate herself from the guard’s hold, she made herself stand tall.
The footsteps turned into a black-coated male thaumaturge and more guards.
“We have not found any more accomplices, or discerned who was firing on us from the factory windows,” the new thaumaturge said. “It’s possible they’ve retreated to a different sector. They might reattempt the insurgence elsewhere.”
Aimery dismissed the thaumaturge’s concern with a smile. “Let them try. We are not afraid of our own people.” His dark eyes settled on Cinder. “This little rebellion is over.”
Cinder lifted her head, but a low growl stole Aimery’s attention away from her. He turned to Wolf, whose sharp canines were bared. He looked feral and bloodthirsty, ready to tear their captors apart.
In response, Aimery laughed. Stepping forward, he cupped Wolf’s chin in his fingers and squeezed until Wolf’s cheeks puckered. “Besides, how could we ever lose when we have beasts such as this at our disposal?” Releasing Wolf’s chin, Aimery slapped him tenderly on the cheek. “Alpha Kesley, isn’t it? I was there for the queen’s tournament, the day you won your position in your pack. It seems you’ve been led astray by these Earthens. What shall we do about that?”
Wolf watched the thaumaturge with a hatred that could have burned the skin off his bones.
Without warning, one of his knees gave way and he knelt before Aimery. Cinder flinched, feeling the shock as if it were ricocheting through her own joints. In another moment, Wolf had bowed his head.
It was sickening to watch. All that strength. All that fury. Reduced to nothing more than a marionette. It was even more sickening because she knew how much mental strength and focus it took to force Wolf to do anything. She’d barely begun to master such a skill, yet Aimery showed no sign of difficulty at all.
“There’s a good dog,” said Aimery, patting Wolf’s head. “We will take you before Her Majesty and let her decide the punishment for your betrayal. Does that suit you, Alpha Kesley?”
Wolf’s voice was throaty and robotic as he answered, “Y
es, Master.”
“As I thought.” Aimery cast his attention to the rest of his entourage. “Should there be any lingering pockets of rebellion, ensure they are swiftly stamped out. There is to be a royal wedding tomorrow, and we will not tolerate any more disturbances.”
After the other thaumaturges had bowed and scattered, Aimery tucked his hands into his sleeves and turned back to Cinder. “Which only leaves the question of what shall be done with you.”
She held his gaze. “You could bow before me as your true queen.”
Aimery’s lips curled upward. “Kill her.”
It happened so fast. One of the guards whipped the gun from his holster, held it against Cinder’s forehead, released the safety, squeezed the trigger—
Cinder sucked in a final breath.
“Stop. I’ve changed my mind.”
Just as quickly, the gun was stashed back at the guard’s waist.
Cinder sagged, her head spinning from the rush of fear.
“My queen has requested the pleasure of deciding your fate herself. I think I will suggest she offer your head to Emperor Kaito as a wedding gift.”
“Thaumaturge Park?”
He turned to the red-coated woman who had spoken. She had her palm on the side paneling of a small podship.
“This is a royal pod,” she said, “and it looks to have arrived recently.” She held up her hand. “Hardly any dust. Odd for it to be way out here.”
Aimery made a disinterested sound. “I am not surprised there are thieves about, but it could help us locate the missing rebels. Run a search on its tracking number and see what you find.”
He gestured to some of the guards. Cinder and Wolf were marched into his ship and forced onto separate benches. No words were spoken as the engines started to rumble.
Within moments, they were heading back toward Artemisia.
Aimery kept giving orders, something about medical care and bullet wounds, designating a new captain of the guard and informing the queen of casualties and prisoners. Cinder’s thoughts became muddled and she found herself staring at the profile of the guard who had killed Iko. “Disabled it,” he’d said. Thrown it into a trash compactor.
The visions rolled through her head again and again. A knife ripping through Iko’s spine. Maha’s broken fingers. The sector residents kneeling at Aimery’s feet.
Her hatred warmed. Simmered at first, low in her gut. But by the time Artemisia came into view, she was boiling.
The ship dropped into Artemisia’s underground port. The ramp was lowered and a guard hauled her up with a squeeze so painful she had to bite back a cry of pain. Wolf’s heavy steps labored behind her.
She was greeted with a slew of new threats. A dozen guards, their bioelectricity as malleable as factory-new personality chips, and three more thaumaturges, whose mental strength always had a certain iron rigidity to it.
Her finger twitched and she wondered how quickly she could have a bullet loaded in her finger and how long it would take to kill them all. She was back in Artemisia. If she escaped, she could go rogue—a lone assassin hunting down the queen.
It was just a fantasy. Her hands were still bound.
She squeezed her cyborg hand into a useless fist instead.
“Thaumaturge Park?”
Cinder peered at the guard who had killed Iko.
“Sir Kinney.”
“Permission to seek immediate medical attention?”
Aimery’s attention darted down to the blood on his uniform. There was a lot of it, though Cinder couldn’t tell where, exactly, he’d been hurt. “Fine,” he said. “Report back as soon as you are cleared for service.”
The guard fisted a hand against his chest, then paced off in the opposite direction.
Cinder and Wolf were shoved away from the docks and into a maze of corridors. Not knowing what else to do, Cinder tried to focus on where they were taking her. She counted her steps, creating a rudimentary map in her head and piecing it together with what she knew of the queen’s palace.
They were led to an elevator bank, flanked by more guards. There was a pause in which Aimery conversed with another thaumaturge, and though Cinder adjusted her audio interface, she could only pick up a few words—alpha and soldier at first. Then insurgence and RM-9 and cyborg.
Aimery gestured and they started pulling Wolf away, down a separate corridor.
“Wait,” said Cinder, panic flooding her veins. “Where are you taking him?”
Wolf growled and strained against his captors, but any fight was tempered beneath the mind control.
“Wolf! No!” Cinder stumbled forward, but arms held her back. The bindings burned against her wrists. “Wolf!”
It was for nothing. They turned a corner and Wolf was gone, leaving Cinder panting and shaking. She felt wetness on her right wrist where the cords had cut into the skin. She wasn’t so naïve to think she and Wolf could have made a successful stand against their enemies, but she hadn’t imagined being parted from him so soon. She might never see him again. She might never see any of them again.
As she was forced into the elevator, it occurred to Cinder that, for the first time since this had all begun, she was alone.
“I’m sorry we aren’t able to give you a private tour,” said Aimery, “but we’re rather preoccupied with wedding preparations. I’m sure you understand.”
The elevator doors shut and they began to descend. And descend. Cinder felt like she was being taken to her tomb.
When the doors opened again, she was prodded forward with a jab in her back. She was taken through a dim corridor, with rough walls and the smell of stale air and urine and bodies. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.
“I hope you’ll find your accommodations acceptable for such a distinguished guest as yourself,” Aimery continued, as if the scent didn’t bother him. “I understand you’re already accustomed to prison cells.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Cinder. “The last one could only hold me for a day.”
“This one will be much more suited to you, I’m sure.”
This prison of rocks and caves was nothing like the modern structure in New Beijing. This was dreary and suffocating, and worst of all, Cinder had no blueprint for it. She had no accurate map, no plan, no means of judging her location in relation to … well, anything.
They paused and there was the jangling of keys and the creak of ancient metal hinges. An old-fashioned padlock. How quaint.
If she could reach it from within the cell, she could have that picked in under thirty seconds.
The thought offered a twitch of hope, at least.
As the door opened, the smell intensified. Her lungs tried to expel the air as soon as they took it in.
“You will remain here until Her Majesty the Queen has time to see to your trial and execution,” said Aimery.
“Can’t wait,” Cinder muttered.
“Of course, you’ll want to use the time to get reacquainted.”
“Reacquainted?”
A guard cut away the bindings on her wrists and shoved her forward. Her shoulder hit the edge of the iron door as she stumbled into the cell, catching herself on a rough wall.
Someone whimpered and she froze. She wasn’t alone.
“Do enjoy your stay … Princess.”
The door slammed shut, the noise of it vibrating through Cinder’s bones. The cell was small with a high, barred window in the iron door that allowed just enough light from the hallway that she could make out a bucket on the floor. The source of the rank smell.
Two people were huddled together in the far corner.
Cinder gaped at them, willing her eyes to adjust. She turned on the built-in flashlight in her hand. The two figures shuddered and cowered behind their arms.
Recognition hit her like a right hook and she fell against the wall.
Adri.
Pearl.
“You can’t be serious.”
Her stepmother and stepsister were quaking with fear and staring up a
t her with wide eyes. Cinder couldn’t begin to imagine why they were here—what Levana wanted with them.
Then it hit her.
She would be stuck here, with them, until her execution.
She dragged a hand down her face, hating Levana so very, very much.
Forty-Three
In Winter’s dream, she was standing in the kitchen of a little farmhouse on Earth, or what her imagination thought a farmhouse on Earth must be like. She knew it was Scarlet’s home, though she’d never been there. She stood at a sink overflowing with dirty dishes. It was vital that she get them all clean before everyone came home, but every time she lifted a plate from the suds it shattered in her hands. Her fingers were bleeding from all the shards, turning the bubbles red.
When the seventh plate cracked in her hands, she stepped back from the sink with an overwhelming sense of failure. Why could she never do anything right? Even this simple task turned to disaster at her touch.
She fell to her knees and began to weep. The blood and soap puddled in her lap.
A shadow fell across her and she looked up. Her stepmother stood in the doorway, acres of fields and Earth’s blue, blue sky laid out behind her. She was holding a bejeweled comb in her hand, and though she was beautiful, her smile was cruel.
“They love you,” said Levana, as if they’d been in the middle of a conversation. She came into the kitchen. The hem of her regal gown trailed through the soapy water on the floor. “They protect you. And what have you ever done to deserve that?”
“They love me,” Winter agreed, though she wasn’t sure who they were talking about. The people of Luna? Cinder and her allies? Jacin?
“And they will all pay the price for their adoration.” Coming around behind her, Levana began brushing the comb through Winter’s curls. The touch was gentle. Motherly, even. Winter wanted to weep with longing—how she had yearned for a mother’s touch—but there was fear in her too. Levana had never been so kind. “They will come to know all your weaknesses. They will learn how flawed you truly are. Then they will see how you never deserved any of this.”