Jacin complied, and Cinder pulled herself into the chair, facing backward so she could drape her arms over the back. She rested her forehead on them. “Cress?”
“Ready when you are.”
“All right. Let’s see what we can find.”
Iko brushed Cinder’s hair off to one side and dug a fingernail into the latch in the back of Cinder’s skull. Cinder felt the panel swing open.
“Oh, sure,” said Thorne. “When I open her head panel, she yells at me. When Iko does it, she’s a hero.”
Cinder glared at him over her folded arms. “Would you like to do this?”
He grimaced. “Not even a little bit.”
“Then back up and give them space to work.” She laid her forehead down again. “All right, Iko. There’s a cable insert on the left side of the control panel.”
Someone turned on a lamp and bright light edged around her vision.
“I see it,” said Iko. “Cress, you have that port?”
“And connector cable, right here.”
Cinder heard them shuffling behind her, brushing more of her hair out of the way. There was a click, muffled inside her own head. A shudder coursed through her. It had been a while since an external device had been plugged into her processor. The last time had been when she’d drained her power source getting the Rampion into space, right after they’d escaped from New Beijing Prison. Thorne had had to recharge her with a podship plug.
The time before that she’d been in a research lab, strapped to a table while a med-droid downloaded the statistics of her cybernetic makeup.
She really, really hated having things plugged into her head.
She forced herself to take deep breaths. It was only Iko and Cress. She knew what they were plugging into her and what data they were extracting. It was not a violation. It was not an invasion.
But it was impossible not to feel that way.
“The connection worked,” said Cress. “There doesn’t appear to be any obvious holes in the data, so this part of your programming wasn’t affected by whatever cut off power to your limbs. I just need to find where it stores visual input and … here we go. Recordings … chronological … would it be the most recent … never mind, this must be it. Video, encrypted, one minute fifty-six seconds long. And … transferring.”
Cinder’s gut twisted. She was not squeamish in general, but whenever her panel was open it was impossible not to think about nameless, faceless surgeons hovering over her unconscious form. Connecting wires and synapses to her brain, regulating her electrical pulses, replacing part of her skull with a removable metal plate.
She squeezed her forearms until they began to hurt, trying to distract herself from the humming of her own internal workings and the sound of Cress’s fingertips padding against the portscreen.
“Eighty percent,” said Cress.
White spots flickered on the blackness of Cinder’s eyelids. She breathed deeply, chastising herself. She was fine. This would have been a routine procedure if it had been her working on an android or another cyborg. She was fine.
The humming stopped and Cress said, “Done.”
“Check it before you disconnect,” said Cinder, gulping down a mouthful of sour saliva. “Make sure it’s the right one.”
“It’s showing … a lot of people.”
“There’s Kai!” squealed Iko.
Cinder jerked her head up. She felt the pull of the cord still connected to the portscreen. “Show me,” she said, even as brightness flooded her vision. She cringed, slamming her eyes shut again.
“Wait, hold still,” said Cress. “Let me disconnect—”
That was the last Cinder heard.
* * *
NEW CONNECTIONS FOUND
REALITY MANUFACTURING CYBERHAND T200–L–CUSTOM: FIVE UTILITIES UNRECOGNIZED: STANDARD APPLICATIONS APPROVED
REALITY MANUFACTURING CYBERFOOT T60.9–L: STANDARD APPLICATIONS APPROVED
REBOOTING IN 3 … 2 … 1 …
Cinder woke up on the sofa with the softest blanket she’d ever felt tucked around her shoulders. She squinted at the unfamiliar shadows on the ceiling, trying to shake off the bewilderment of waking up in a strange place and not being sure how she’d gotten there. Sitting up, she rubbed at her bleary eyes. The room was in disarray, tools and parts scattered around the carpet and tables.
DIAGNOSTICS CHECK COMPLETE. ALL SYSTEMS STABILIZED. TWO NEW CONNECTIONS FOUND:
CYBERHAND T200
CYBERFOOT T60.0
RUN APPLICATION TEST NOW?
She raised her left hand in front of her face. The shiny finish it had when Dr. Erland had first given it to her was gone after two months of making repairs to the Rampion and living in a desert and a dip in Artemisia Lake.
Most baffling was that she had all five fingers, although the pointer—the gun finger Levana had removed—didn’t quite match the others. The finish was different, it was too slender, and the angle of the first knuckle was crooked.
Cinder ran the application test and watched as her fingers curled down, one at a time. Flexed back. Tightened into a fist. The wrist swiveled from side to side.
Her foot went through a similar range of motions. She pulled back the blanket to watch.
BASIC APPLICATION TEST COMPLETE. STANDARD APPLICATIONS APPROVED FOR USE. FIVE UTILITIES UNRECOGNIZED.
Five utilities.
Inspecting her hand, Cinder sent the command for the tips of her fingers to open, which they did without problem. But when she tried to turn on the flashlight, to eject the knife or universal connector cable, or to spin the built-in screwdriver, nothing happened. She didn’t bother trying to load a projectile into the replacement finger.
Still, she had use of the limb again, and she couldn’t complain.
“You’re awake!”
Iko traipsed into the room carrying a tray one-handed, with a glass of water and a plate of fried eggs, along with bread and jam.
Cinder’s stomach started gnawing through its lining. “You cooked?”
“Just some skills left over from my Serv9.2 days.” Iko set the plate in Cinder’s lap. “But I don’t want to hear a word about how delicious it is.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s awful,” Cinder said, shoveling a spoonful into her mouth. “Tank oo, Iko.” Her gaze landed on Iko’s disabled arm. It was missing a finger. She swallowed. “For the attachment too.”
Iko shrugged with her good shoulder. “You have a few escort-branded wires installed now too. The stuff from the gaming table didn’t work.”
“Thank you. That was really generous.”
Iko pushed Cinder’s feet aside and sat down. “You know how we androids are programmed to make ourselves useful and all that.”
“Are you still an android?” Cinder said around a bite of toast. “Sometimes I forget.”
“Me too.” Iko ducked her head. “When we saw the feed of you jumping off that ledge, I was so scared I thought my wiring was going to catch fire. And I thought, I will do anything to make sure she’s all right.” She kicked at a pile of stray screws on the carpet. “I guess some programming never goes away, no matter how evolved a personality chip gets.”
Licking some jam from her fingertips, Cinder grinned. “That’s not programming, you wing nut. That’s friendship.”
Iko’s eyes brightened. “Maybe you’re right.”
“About time you woke up, lazy.” Cinder glanced over her shoulder to see Thorne in the doorway. Cress and Jacin filed in behind him. “How’s the hand?”
“Almost fully functional.”
“Of course it’s almost fully functional,” said Iko. “Cress and I are geniuses.” She flashed Cress a thumbs-up.
“I helped,” said Thorne.
“He held the lamp,” Iko clarified.
“Jacin did nothing,” said Thorne, pointing.
“Jacin checked your pulse and breathing and made sure you weren’t dead,” said Iko.
Thorne snorted. “I could have done that.”
&n
bsp; “Why did I pass out?” Cinder interrupted.
Crouching beside the couch, Jacin felt for the pulse in Cinder’s wrist. After a short silence, he let it drop down again. “Stress, probably, along with your physical reaction to having the portscreen connected to your”—he gestured to her general head area—“computer thing.”
“And you call me squeamish,” said Thorne.
Cinder squinted. “I passed out from stress? That’s it?”
“I believe the princess term is fainted,” said Thorne.
Cinder smacked him.
“With everything you’ve been through,” said Jacin, “it’s amazing you haven’t had a meltdown. Next time you feel light-headed or are having trouble breathing, tell me before you pass out.”
“The good thing,” said Iko, “is that with you unconscious, Cress and I were able to run your full diagnostics. Two fixed connections, a new data cable, some reinstalled software, and good as new! Well, except—”
“My hand tools, I know.” Cinder smiled. “But that’s fine. I went five years without a built-in flashlight, I’ll survive now.”
“Yeah, that, but I think there might be some problems with your interface too. The diagnostics showed a few errors with net connectivity and data transfer.”
Cinder’s smile faded. She’d been dependent on her cyborg brain ever since she could remember, relying on her ability to download information, send comms, monitor newsfeeds. It was an uncomfortable feeling to be without it, like part of her brain had been erased.
“I’ll just have to make do,” she said. “I’m alive, and I have two working hands and two working feet. I’ve been in worse shape before.” She glanced from Iko to Cress. “Thank you.”
Cress ducked her head, while Iko tossed her braids over one shoulder. “Oh, you know. I used to apprentice for this brilliant mechanic in New Beijing. She may have taught me a thing or two.”
Cinder laughed.
“Speaking of brilliant mechanics,” Iko said, “do you think you have time to look at my arm now?”
Sixty-Two
Winter sat on a rough-hewn bench, watching the last chips of ice thaw around her feet. She plunked her toes against the shallow puddle that had formed, amazed at how everything about it could be so real—the crackling, the cold—even when she knew it wasn’t.
Sighing, she raised her head, weary as she was, to watch the haphazard training sessions happening all down the dusty street. Maneuvers and tactics, a hundred trained soldiers doing their best to build an army. She scanned the crowd for Scarlet’s flaming hair, not sure where her friend had gone off to.
Instead of seeing Scarlet, her gaze caught on something else entirely. A head of pale hair near the back of the crowd.
Her heart lurched.
Inhaling a shaky breath, she pulled herself from the bench, but he was already gone.
Her gaze darted over all the faces, searching. Hoping.
She clenched her fists at her sides, willing away the sudden rush of euphoria. It was her desperation causing her to see phantoms. She missed him so much. She still didn’t know if he was even alive. She supposed it was to be expected that she would see his face in every crowd, around every corner.
There—she saw it again. Sunshine-bright hair tucked back behind his ears. Broad shoulders disguised in the clothes of the sector laborers. Blue eyes that pinned her to the ground even as her entire body tingled. Air flooded her lungs. He was alive. He was alive.
But Jacin raised a finger to his lips, halting her before she could run to him. Ducking his head in an effort to minimize his height, he skirted around a group of laborers and slinked toward the forest. He glanced back once and, with a subtle jerk of his head, disappeared into the shadows.
Palms damp, Winter looked around for Scarlet, but she was nowhere to be seen. No one was watching her. She slipped away, newly energized, and traipsed in between the slender tree trunks.
She would circle around through the woods and meet Jacin halfway. She would throw herself into his arms and she didn’t care if he thought it was appropriate or not.
Up ahead she could hear the bubble of the central fountain.
“Princess.”
Winter startled. In her haste, she’d walked right past the old woman without even seeing her. Though she was an ancient creature with a crooked back, she had a liveliness to her expression. She was holding a basket filled with twigs and bark gathered from the forest floor.
“Yes, hello,” Winter said in a rush, dipping into a quick curtsy. Her gaze was already traveling on, searching for blond hair and a teasing smile. She saw nothing. The trees were hiding him from her.
“You’re looking for a handsome young man, I believe.” The woman’s wrinkles tightened into something like a smile.
Winter started to nod, but stopped herself. “Did someone come through here just now?”
“Just your prince, my dear. No need to be shy. He’s very handsome, isn’t he?” She herself stood no taller than Winter’s collarbone, though that was partly due to the crook in her spine. Winter wondered how many years of hard work weighed upon those shoulders.
“He asked me to give you a message.”
“He did? Jacin?” Winter glanced around again. “But where did he go?”
“He said not to follow him. That it’s too dangerous, and he’ll find you when it’s safe again.” She tilted her head, gazing down the row of orderly trees, to where the alphas were yelling their orders.
Winter tried to stifle her disappointment. He could not have waited for a smile, a kind word, a quick embrace? “Why aren’t you with the others?”
The woman shrugged her shoulders, with some effort. “Someone said we could use wood scraps. I cannot do much, but I can assist in that way.”
“Of course,” said Winter. “We all must do what we can. Allow me to help you.” She took the basket from the woman.
The woman held up a finger, her arm no longer burdened. “I almost forgot. Your prince left you a gift.” Digging through the basket, she found a plain box buried beneath the twigs. “He said these are your favorites.”
Winter’s heart leaped as she took the box in her palm. She knew what it was without opening it and her heart expanded. She couldn’t imagine the trouble Jacin had gone through to get these for her. All so she would know he was thinking about her?
Unless there was more to it than that.
Unless there was a message.
Chewing the corner of her lips, she lifted the lid. There, inside, were two pristine sour apple petites, fresh from the confectioner’s window.
“My, but those look tasty,” said the old woman, craning her head to peer inside. “I haven’t had one of those since I was a little girl. Apple, aren’t they?”
“Yes.” Winter held the box toward her. “Please, take one. With my gratitude for delivering them.”
The woman pondered the offer. “If you insist … I suppose one little bite won’t kill me. I’ll take this one, if you’re sure you don’t mind. See, it has a crack in the shell, not fit for a princess.” Her eyes were daring as she took the candy between her fingertips. “But only if you eat the other. It would be the greatest honor to share this bounty with Your Highness—the beautiful Princess Winter herself.”
“You are too kind.” Winter lifted the second candy from the box. She scanned the inner lining, hoping for some clue Jacin may have left for her, but she saw nothing.
Still. It was a gift. Not only the candies, but to have seen him from afar. To know he was all right.
She placed the candy between her teeth. The woman was watching her, mimicking her movements, and together they bit down. Winter felt the crack of the brittle shell before it melted against her tongue.
The old woman smiled, bits of crimson-colored filling stuck in her teeth. “This has been more satisfying than I could have imagined.”
Winter swallowed. “I’m glad. It’s been my pleasure to … to…”
She blinked, catching a tinge of famili
arity in the way the woman watched her. At the particular curve of her grin—something haughty and brimming with contempt.
“Is something wrong, my dear child?”
“No. No. For a moment you reminded me of someone. But my eyes play tricks on me sometimes. They’re not very reliable.”
“Oh, sweet, stupid child.” The kink in the woman’s back began to straighten. “We are Lunars. Our eyes are never reliable.”
Winter shriveled back. The basket slipped from her hold, crashing to the ground.
Before her, Levana shed the guise of the old woman, a snake shedding its skin.
“My researchers assured me the disease would act quickly,” said the queen, her cold eyes roving over Winter’s skin. Curious. Delighted.
Winter’s thoughts spun, puzzling out the truth from the illusion. Her whole life had been spent puzzling out truths from illusions.
Where was Jacin? Why was Levana here? Was this another nightmare, a hallucination, a trick?
Her stomach kicked. She felt ill.
“The infected microbes are being absorbed into your bloodstream even at this very moment.”
Winter placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the devoured candy roiling inside her. She pictured her heart, her arteries, her platelet-manufacturing plant. Little red soldiers marching down their conveyor belts. “Microbes?”
“Oh, don’t worry. Young and able-bodied thing that you are, it should be an hour or two still before you begin to show symptoms. A rash of blood-filled blisters will erupt on your perfect skin. The tips of your delicate fingers will shrivel and turn blue…” Levana grinned. “I do wish I could be here to witness it.”
Winter peered through the forest, toward her allies. Levana would stop her if she tried to run. She wondered if she could get out a scream before Levana sewed shut her lips.
“Thinking of warning your friends? Don’t worry. I’m going to let you go, little princess. I will let you return to them and infect them yourself. They made a mistake when they chose you over me, and that will be their undoing.”
She faced her stepmother again. “Why do you hate me?”
“Hate you? Oh, child. Is that what you think?” Levana placed her cool fingers on Winter’s cheek, over the scars she’d given her years before. “I don’t hate you. I am merely annoyed at your existence.” Her thumb caressed Winter’s cheek. “From the day you were born, you had everything I ever wanted. Your beauty. Your father’s love. And now, the adoration of the people. My people.” She drew her hand away. “But not for long. Your father is dead. Your beauty will soon be tarnished. And now that you are a carrier of the blue fever, any citizen who comes close to you will soon come to regret it.”