Lucky peered out the doorway. “It’s clear.”
Cora joined Lucky and Mali, looking up and down the impossibly long arched hallway. “Leon’s tracks lead to the left.”
Mali snorted. “He does not know where he goes.” She pointed the opposite direction. “We must go down.”
Cora frowned. “That’s downhill? It looks perfectly flat.”
Mali wobbled her head. Water dripped from her hair and ran in the direction she’d been pointing, though the floor appeared even. “You do not know anything about aggregate stations.”
She had a good point, and Cora was happy to let her take the lead. As they jogged silently down the austere hallway, Lucky kept stopping to marvel at the light coming from the wall seams. He’d never seen those intricate archways, the metallic walls, the eerie silence like ancient monasteries.
Mali paused, listening. “I hear something.”
Cora’s skin started to tingle with the urge to run. What if Nok had gotten away from Rolf and sounded the alarm? The Warden would send soldiers to stop them, and Cassian would be powerless to help.
She squeezed her charm necklace. She could still feel the lingering touch of his fingers brushing her skin. Had she made a mistake in letting him take such a risk?
They waited several impossibly long seconds before continuing. The hallway abruptly branched to their left, and Mali froze. Cora heard it too.
Footsteps. Boots.
“Go the other way,” Mali whispered urgently.
They followed her down the opposite direction, but the hallways only looped back. The sensation of being turned around made Cora’s head throb, and Lucky kept rubbing his forehead too, but it didn’t seem to affect Mali. She was faster than they were, not slowed by the strange perception. She disappeared around a bend, and when they stumbled after her, she was gone. The hallway stretched as far as Cora could see. Mali simply wasn’t there.
Instead, five Kindred dressed in black turned the corner.
Cora skidded to a stop, choked by the sight.
“Run!” she yelled.
Lucky and Cora raced in the opposite direction, turning at each branching hallway, desperately looking for a door, but Cora had the awful feeling they were just running in circles.
She focused her thoughts and projected that she needed Cassian’s help, but he must have been too far away to perceive her call, because minutes passed and he still didn’t come.
Lucky slipped. Cora pulled him to his feet as they stumbled around another corner. There, at the far end, was another soldier. Black clothes, short hair, but it wasn’t Cassian.
“Hurry!” Cora said, and they raced down the corridor, but the soldier was impossibly fast. He was on them in a second. His hands dug into Lucky’s shoulder, and Cora knew—she knew—that he would never get away.
“He can’t catch both of us,” Lucky yelled. “Keep going!”
Cora was crying now, that they had Lucky, and Mali and Leon were both gone, and she was on her own. The only way she could keep going was to tell herself that she’d come back for him. She’d head to the lowest level, and find the Mosca traders, and come back to rescue him.
She turned another corner as sweat poured down the back of her neck. A door stood at the end—a chance to hide. She threw herself against it.
Her beating heart was all she could hear as she dug her fingernails into the seam, screaming at the stupid door to open. She heard footsteps behind her and worked faster. The door didn’t budge. There were no tools around, only a blue cube above the doorway. An amplifier.
Rolf had said if she could damage it, the Kindred wouldn’t be able to open the doors with their telekinesis. Maybe the opposite was also true—if she broke it, maybe she could override the door and open it by hand.
She wedged her foot in the doorway and used it as leverage to push herself up until she could grab hold of the cube. She’d been expecting something hard like plastic, but it was cold and pulsing and wet, more like ice. Shock made her let go, and she had to climb up again, her heart pounding harder.
She gripped the cube again and dropped her weight. The sudden force made the cube splinter with a jolt of electricity. She cried out as she crashed to the ground, then scrambled to the door and shoved her fingers into the seam. It opened an inch, enough to wedge her toe in. Thank you, Rolf. She pushed harder, and it glided open.
She stumbled through the doorway, then pushed it closed behind her. She was in a room the size of the medical chamber, only not nearly as sparse. It was packed with a chaos of belongings, stacked on the floor, propped on a circular desk ringing nearly the entire room. Most of the clutter was unfamiliar—blue cubes of all sizes, boxes stuffed with a variety of apparatuses—but a few things seemed vaguely recognizable. Stacks of the Kindred’s cerulean clothing. A communicator like Cassian wore on his wrist. Metal boxes with lids piled against the wall. It all looked haphazard, but Cora got the sense it was actually highly organized, in the same way the market had been.
She took a hesitant step into the room. Several of the black windows had been set into the walls, projecting a variety of different images. Cages. Dozens of them. Not a single one of them theirs. She took a step forward and unfolded one of the blue fabric uniforms. The material was fine, supple but strong. Cerulean, the color of authority. Fearfully, she counted the row of knots down the side.
Twenty knots. Far more than any of the other Kindred she’d seen.
She must have run straight into the Warden’s personal office.
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55
Cora
SHE SCRAMBLED TOWARD THE wall, but the door didn’t open. She dug in her fingernails, but it wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard she pulled. She must have broken it. She punched at the door. Screamed at it. Frantically, she waded back into the mess of belongings to try to find something to pry the door open. She grabbed one of the arm-length apparatuses, but it was hinged and merely slumped to the ground like liquid. She tossed it away and threw the lid off one of the metal boxes, but paused.
Comic books. Just as she had seen in the market. She pushed the first few aside, but none had a date. Her fingers caught on something hard, and she pulled out a worn hardback book. Her breath stilled as she recognized the faded cover.
Peter Pan and Wendy. Dog-eared halfway through.
The same copy from Cassian’s bedroom.
Her fingers curled around the book. What did it mean, finding it here? Her mind only reached one conclusion, and a frightened sound slipped out of her throat. The Warden must have found it in Cassian’s room. He must have figured out that Cassian was developing sympathies for the humans.
Had the Warden set Cassian up? Had him followed this entire time, because he knew that Cassian was no longer loyal to him?
She hugged the book tight. This explained the soldiers who’d been waiting for them to break through the fail-safe exit. The Warden must have learned of Cassian’s true loyalties and gotten the information out of him. Had he tortured Cassian? Killed him? No, surely he wouldn’t sacrifice one of his best soldiers. But he might have Cassian imprisoned somewhere, awaiting some awful fate.
She leaned on the desk as the strength leached out of her. They’d gotten Lucky. They’d probably gotten Mali and Leon too. Now it seemed they’d even gotten Cassian. She was trapped in the Warden’s own office.
There would be no escape for her. No ride home on the Mosca traders’ ship. No seeing her parents again, or Charlie, or Sadie bounding across the lawn.
She was about to slump to the floor, hugging Cassian’s book as her one last tie to Earth—to him—when footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. She jerked her head around just in time to see gloved fingers wedge through the doors and manually pry them open.
She braced to fight. Braced to hurl herself at the Warden, and at least make it difficult for th
em to drag her away. But as soon as she saw the figure standing on the other side, she let the book clatter to the floor in surprise.
That dent in his nose. Those dark eyes filled with concern.
Cassian.
“It’s you.” Her voice twisted with relief as she raced for the doorway. She threw her arms around him, breathing in his scent, feeling the warmth radiating from his uniform. He wore gloves, so the electric jolt of his touch was gone, but she didn’t need it to feel a spark.
“Cora.” His voice was flat. He was cloaked again, but she hadn’t forgotten that passion when he’d shown her his true self. It was there, below this mask. She waited for him to explain what was happening, but he was hesitating. And they couldn’t afford to hesitate. She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door.
“We’ll have to hurry. There were a lot of soldiers. They got Lucky, but there’s a chance that Mali and Leon got to the Mosca’s sector. We can meet them there and hide out until we can figure out how to get Lucky back. You’ll have to come with us on the Mosca ship. The Warden will never forgive you, once he finds out you betrayed him. Once we’re safely off the station we can talk about what comes next. Assuming Earth is still there, I can’t exactly take you back with me. My parents would have a heart attack if I brought you home.”
She was so anxious that she was rambling. She tugged on his hand harder, but it was like pulling on a metal dumpster, impossible to budge. She tossed him a confused look.
He seemed to be in no rush.
“Cora. There are things I must tell you.” He swallowed. “I told you before that I had made mistakes. Some very grave ones. I have not been honest with you—”
Confusion hardened like wax in her chest. She was about to ask what he meant when more footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. She froze. Cassian had no reaction other than to curl his fingers around hers, holding her hand, trying to comfort her.
Someone pried the door open again. She gasped as the Warden, Fian, filled the doorway. The cerulean suit that rippled like water. The row of knots down the side. The wrinkle between his eyes that made him always look angry.
She took a step backward, feeling Cassian’s reassuring heat behind her. Was this why Cassian was acting so strange? Had he known the Warden was on his way? His hand still clutched hers—although at this angle, it was starting to hurt. It almost felt like he was holding on to her less for comfort, and more so that she wouldn’t get away.
The Warden took a step into the room, black eyes darting between her and Cassian, and she gritted her teeth. “I swear, I’ll get out again. I figured out the exit without being psychic. I opened the doors without telekinesis. We might not be evolved, but we can still outsmart you.”
Fian studied her with mild disinterest, and then cocked his head toward Cassian.
“We have the others secured. Boy Two is in the medical chambers after sustaining a mild injury. Girl Three is already in the holding cells. Soldiers are still in pursuit of Boy Three.” His cold eyes slid to Cora. “Shall I take her to the holding cells as well?”
The room seemed to spin. Cora felt gravity pulling her like a ride at an amusement park. Why was Fian addressing Cassian with deference, when Fian was the one in charge? They were standing in Fian’s office. His uniform was right there on the counter. Cassian was merely the hired help. The jailer. Disgraced and demoted to the lowest position.
“No.” Cassian’s voice was stiff. “I will take her myself.”
“Very well, Warden.”
Warden?
The word knocked the air out of her. Her head kept spinning, spinning, spinning, like the ride was going faster. He wasn’t denying it. He wasn’t trying to fight his way out with her. Her eyes fell on the copy of Peter Pan and Wendy on the floor.
Was it there because it was Cassian’s office?
She tore away from him before he could tighten his grip. “You’re. . . the Warden,” she whispered. “You’ve been giving orders this entire time. Serassi, Tessela, those researchers . . . even Fian. They all work for you.”
He stepped forward, towering over her. “I will explain.”
“No . . . I get it now. You’ve been pulling the strings. You’ve been changing the weather, and speeding up time, and giving us headaches. You’ve been trying to break us—to break me—to see how far we can evolve.”
A wave of disbelief overcame her, and she staggered against the wall. She was back in the deep of the ocean, fighting for breath, body screaming in pain. He might as well have wrapped his own two hands around her neck and strangled her, because that was what his betrayal felt like. Memories of all their times together assailed her head. The first day, where he had rescued her. The day in the bookstore where she’d admitted to herself that she was curious about him. Standing in the snow as he gave her the charm necklace back. And the kiss. The kiss was the worst memory of all, because despite everything, thinking of it still made her falter.
She had never felt so trapped, like the walls were pressing in. His black eyes took her in: the bruises on her arm where she had fallen, the salt water in her hair and damp sweat on her chest. Hope drained from her fingertips.
She didn’t have words. She didn’t even have thoughts, except this one: there had been a mole. All this time, there had been someone spying on them, manipulating them, toying with them. The mole had come not as a fellow human captive, but as a sympathetic guard who they would pour their hearts out to.
Exactly as she had done.
His eyes found hers, and his hand started to flex at his side. Her heart twisted. It was too late for that. He couldn’t pretend like he felt something, when everything had been a lie.
“I will escort her to the medical sector, Fian. Leave us.” Cassian reached out a hand, but Cora shied away like an unbroken horse.
“No.” She took a step backward, never taking her eyes off his, until she was standing next to Fian. “I’ll go with your soldier. You’ve already done your job.” She nearly spit the last word at him. He started to speak, but she turned before he could answer, and let Fian calmly slide the shackles over her wrists.
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56
Cora
FIAN TOOK HER TO Serassi, who fixed the bruises on her arm methodically. Serassi didn’t speak. The device in her hand didn’t hum. There was only silence, which made the betrayal all the more deafening. Once Cora was healed, Serassi made her strip to her camisole and panties, and a team of Kindred came in stiff blue uniforms. One gripped her by the neck while another examined her left hand, then the right, inspecting each finger front and back like a horse at auction. A third pressed his fingers into her sides, as though counting each rib, then felt the muscles along each side of her spine. They took an excruciatingly long time prodding at her right ear.
An inspection, just as Fian had done the first day, when she’d thought he was the Warden. Cassian must have set it up that way so that he could rescue Cora, and she would start to trust him.
The inspector and his team left as abruptly as they had come. She dropped to the hard floor, too shaky to stand. She imagined they were determining if she was best suited for the brothels, or the fight clubs, or the cells where children were made to do tricks. Would Cassian be the one to make the call? Maybe he’d take pity on her, after his betrayal, and spare her the Harem. Or maybe he didn’t care at all.
An hour passed, maybe longer. Another Kindred came, with three knots on his uniform, and took her to a room full of plain cells. A true prison this time. When he locked the cell, she expected the hinges to groan, and the lock to thunk, to echo the slamming sounds of her heart. But it closed as smoothly and silently as everything in the Kindred’s world.
Cora caught sight of Lucky and Mali, each locked in individual cells a few doors down, separated from each other by an aisle. Cora tried to yell to them, but her v
oice only bounced around the perimeter of her cell. Lucky shouted back, but she heard nothing. Their cells must have been soundproofed.
Cora grabbed the bars.
“Are you okay?” she mouthed.
A bandage covered half his face. His other eye had a deep circle under it, but he nodded. In the cell beside him, Mali merely pressed her lips together in an expression Cora couldn’t quite read, but it looked grim.
Cora let go of the bars and paced her cell, still feeling the crushing weight of Cassian’s betrayal. A worry struck her, and she jerked up her head. Had Mali known all along that Cassian was the Warden? But one more glance in Mali’s direction showed sunken, hollow eyes and a hardened mouth—Mali was just as disappointed as Cora was. Cassian had been Mali’s friend too.
For hours, Cora paced in the cell. Serassi had given her new clothes to wear. Plain black robes with a single knot at the shoulder, which Cora could only assume was a sign of their status now, the lowest of the low. Lucky and Mali wore the same robe. The constellation markings on their necks were gone, nothing to identify them as a gender or even a number.
It was clear the Kindred weren’t returning them to the cage. So what would happen to them? And what had happened to Nok and Rolf? There were no toilets, no food, which meant the Kindred couldn’t be planning to keep them there for long. Words that Mali and Cassian had both hinted at scrolled through her mind: Drugged girls. Dead girls. Private owners. Menageries.
The door at the end of the room opened. Cassian entered.
Cora looked away. She didn’t want to see those lips she had kissed. Those eyes that had cleared like storm clouds. His approaching footsteps were heavy and slow. From the corner of her eye, she saw his fingers curl around the bars of her cell. She could almost convince herself that he was feeling something. Regret, maybe. But she snatched back those traitorous thoughts. Any true emotion he had shown her had been a trick.