Winter (44 page)

“You dare to threaten me here?” Levana hissed, and though she tried to mimic Cinder’s voice, Kai could tell the difference. “In front of both our kingdoms?”

Kai’s attention was still on the blood leaking from her wounded arm.

He had done it. For a moment, he had gotten through the glamour, through the manipulation. It wasn’t much, but he had actually hurt her.

“It wasn’t meant to be a threat,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed.

“We both know you intend to kill me the moment I’m no longer useful to you. I thought it was fair to let you know the feeling is mutual.”

Levana glared, and it was unnerving to see such hatred on Cinder’s face.

Vibrating with adrenaline, Kai looked back at the audience. Most of their guests were on their feet, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. Near the front, Torin looked like he was ready to hurtle himself over two rows of seats to be at Kai’s side the instant he was needed.

Kai held his gaze long enough, he hoped, to convey that he was all right. He had hurt her, Kai wanted to say. It was possible to hurt her. Which meant it was possible to kill her.

Setting his jaw, Kai turned back to face Prime Minister Kamin. She, too, was shaking, both hands gripping her portscreen.

“I do,” he said, listening to his own proclamation echo around the altar.

The officiant’s gaze darted between him and his bride, like she wasn’t sure if she should proceed or not. But then Levana straightened her wedding gown—or Cinder’s ball gown, as it was. Whatever reaction she was hoping to get from him by maintaining the glamour, he wouldn’t—
couldn’t
—give it to her.

When the silence had hovered for too long, Levana growled, “Get on with it then.”

Kamin gulped. “By the power given to me by the people of Earth, I do now pronounce you … husband and wife.”

Kai didn’t even flinch.

“We ask that all video feeds be discontinued so the groom might kiss his bride.”

Kai waited to be hit by a wall of dread, but even that was replaced with fervent determination. He imagined all the holographs on Luna fading away, and all the Earthen newsfeeds flickering to dead air. He imagined all his people watching, and the horror they must be feeling as those feeds were silenced.

He turned to Levana.

His bride.

His
wife.

She was still impersonating Cinder, but the ball gown was replaced by the vibrant red wedding dress and sheer veil. She smiled deviously.

Ignoring her, he mechanically took her veil between his fingers and pulled it over her head.

“I thought you might prefer this look,” she said. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

Kai couldn’t bring himself to react, no matter how much he wanted to reflect that haughtiness back to her. “In fact, I do.” He craned his head toward her. “Selene is more beautiful than you could ever be.”

He kissed her. An abrupt, passionless kiss that felt nothing at all like kissing Cinder.

A collective breath released from the audience.

Kai pulled away, putting a full body of open air between them. The audience started to applaud, politely at first, then growing more enthusiastic as if they were afraid their clapping might not be polite enough. Kai held out his elbow for Levana to take, their hands still bound, and together they turned to face the audience. From the corner of his eye, he saw Cinder’s image melt away, her face replaced with Levana’s, and he was glad she looked annoyed. It was the tiniest of victories, but he was glad for it.

They stood amid the thundering cheers, each of them seething.

Husband and wife.

Forty-Eight

Cress had long ago lost track of where they were or what direction they were going. Jacin had dragged her through some complicated labyrinth of halls beneath the palace, down stairs and through maglev tunnels. Though it felt like they’d been walking for hours, she couldn’t even be sure they’d left the boundaries of Artemisia Central, given how circuitous their route had been.

They were sneaking through a tunnel, staying close to the edges to avoid any shuttles, which had a tendency to sneak up too fast on their silent magnets, when the power cut out, plunging them into darkness. Cress gasped and reached for Jacin, but froze with her fingers inches away from where she expected him to be. Clenching her fist, she drew her hand back to her side.

Brave. She was
brave.

In the distance, they heard the scream of a shuttle hitting the rails and careening to a stop.

A moment later, orange emergency lights illuminated the tracks at their feet and a voice echoed from invisible speakers. “This shuttle route has been discontinued until further notice. Please proceed to the next platform on foot and prepare for a security inspection. The crown apologizes for any inconvenience.”

She glanced up at Jacin. “What does that mean?”

“My guess? That whatever Cinder’s doing, it’s working.” He started walking again, picking their way more carefully with the reduced lighting. “They must be limiting transportation into the city.”

Her nerves hummed. “Will we be able to get out?”

“We’re almost to the station that receives eighty percent of our supply trains. They should still be operational, given how many guests Levana has to feed this week.”

Cress trotted in his wake, hoping he was right. He hadn’t been very forthcoming with his plan and she still had no idea where they were going. She wondered if he was right. Had Winter and Scarlet gotten her message to the others? Had they been able to broadcast the video? She had no answers. If Levana was aware of a potential uprising, she was keeping the knowledge to herself.

The tunnel became wider, the rails merging with two other tracks, and Cress was hit with a pungent smell that reminded her of the caravan she and Thorne had crossed the Sahara with. Dirt and animals.

Around the next bend in the tunnel, she could see a bright glow and hear the echoes of grating machinery and rumbling wheels. Jacin slowed his pace.

A massive platform came into view. A holographic sign was showing coverage of the royal wedding.

A dozen maglev tracks stretched in multiple directions, loaded with cargo trains. Most of their cars were hidden from view in the darkened tunnels, waiting to be relieved of their goods. Cranes and pulleys filled the dock and Cress imagined it would have taken countless laborers to man all the machinery, but the only personnel was a contingent of uniformed guards sweeping the cars ahead.

Jacin pulled Cress into the shadows of the nearest train. A second later, a silhouette passed up ahead and the beam of a flashlight jotted in their direction. Jacin and Cress ducked between the nearest cars, watching as the light beam flickered along the ground and disappeared.

“A6 is clear,” someone yelled, followed by another: “A7, clear.”

There was a pause, then the hum of magnets. The train swayed forward.

Jacin jumped onto the axle to keep from being caught on the tracks, hauling Cress up beside him. This time she did grab his arm as the train surged forward, then came to another stop. Car doors thudded open.

Jacin jumped down from the axle, dragging Cress with him. “Inspections,” he whispered. “Making sure no one tries to sneak into the city.”

“What about sneaking out of the city?”

He pointed toward the front of the train. “We need to get into one of the cars that was already searched. This train should be heading back to the agriculture sectors from here.”

They sneaked over the axle to the opposite side of the car. Though there were platforms on both sides of the tracks, the second platform had only a single guard, pacing the perimeter with an assault rifle at the ready.

“All right, shortcake, when that guard has his back to us again, we’re going to sneak forward as fast as we can. Once he starts to turn, crawl under the train and hold still.”

Cress glared at the back of his head. “Don’t call me shortcake.”

Up ahead, someone yelled, “A8, clear! B1, clear!”

The guard turned away.

Jacin and Cress darted forward. Her heart was thumping as she kept one eye on the guard’s back and his threatening gun, the other on the tracks beneath her feet. The guard started to pivot. Cress dropped to her hands and knees and scurried under the train car. Sweat matted her hair to the back of her neck.

“Over he—!”

A yell was cut off, followed by two loud thuds and the clang of metal on metal. The guard with the rifle turned and charged toward the tracks, vaulting over an axle. A gunshot. A grunt.

“
Freeze!
”

Another gunshot.

With the platform unexpectedly clear, Jacin shimmied out from beneath the train and waved for Cress to follow. Her elbows scraped against the hard ground as she pulled herself out. Jacin dragged her to her feet and they took off running toward the front of the train. The sounds of a struggle continued on the opposite platform.

They reached car A7 and plastered themselves to the side to catch their breath. Now they only had to sneak around to the other side and climb into the car without being seen—or shot, she thought—as another gunshot made her jump.

Cress looked back and her heart leaped into her throat.

A girl was on the ground, crawling beneath one of the train cars just like Cress had been seconds before. Though Cress could see very little of her, she couldn’t mistake the abundance of silky braids dyed in varying shades of blue.

“Iko!”

Iko’s head snapped up. Her eyes widened. The look was brief, though, as she turned her head toward something on the other side of the train. She started to scuffle forward, her belly pressed against the ground.

Jacin cursed, then launched himself past Cress. His own gun was already in his palm as he ran into the fray.

Cress followed, though with more hesitation, having no weapon of her own. She crouched down against the train car and inched her head forward.

Her throat dried.

Thorne.

He was wearing the uniform of a Lunar guard, but there was no mistaking him.

She clapped both hands over her mouth to keep from shouting his name. He was grappling with the guard from the platform. The rifle was nowhere to be seen. Four other guards and two flashlights, their beams spotlighting random spots on the tracks, were scattered across the platform. Cress noticed a spray of blood against one of the cars at the same moment Iko charged out from beneath the car and threw herself at a sixth guard who was trying to get a good shot at Thorne. It was an awkward tackle, though. Something seemed to be wrong with Iko’s right arm.

The guard grabbed Iko and pinned her to the ground, wrapping his hands around her throat, oblivious that oxygen intake wasn’t an issue.

Spotting an abandoned handgun a few steps away, Cress leaped for it. But the moment she picked it up and aimed it into the fight, her arms began to tremble. She had never fired a gun before.

She was attempting to still her hand enough to take aim when two successive gunshots echoed through her skull. The first knocked the guard off Iko; the second took out the guard wrestling with Thorne.

The world seemed to still, but for heavy breathing. The uncanny silence made her panting unbearably loud.

Upon confirmation that both guards were dead or incapacitated, Jacin dropped his gun back into its holster.

Thorne blinked at Jacin, shocked, as he stood and straightened his shirt. He looked about to say something when Iko screamed, “CRESS!” and shot forward, wrapping Cress in a one-armed embrace.

Cress stumbled, letting herself be held, even while her gaze sought out Thorne. His jaw hung as he stared at her. He was disheveled and bruised and breathless. He stumbled forward and engulfed both Cress and Iko in an enormous hug. Cress squeezed her eyes shut as hot tears began to cloud them. His arm around her shoulders. His bristled chin on her forehead. One of Iko’s braids in her mouth.

She had never been so happy.

Jacin grunted. “We need to go.”

Iko stepped back, but Thorne filled the space she’d left, cupping Cress’s face in his hands. His eyes bored into her, full of disbelief. His thumb caught her first tear.

Suddenly, Cress found herself laughing and sniffling and laughing some more. She ducked her head and swiped at the tears. “No crying,” she said. “It’s dehydrating.”

His arms wound around her again. She felt the rumble of his voice as he said, “It
is
you. Thank the stars.”

“When I say we should go,” said Jacin, “I mean
now.
”

Thorne’s arms tensed and, with one tight squeeze, he let her go and turned to face Jacin. A muscle twitched in his cheek. It was the only warning before Thorne’s fist collided with Jacin’s jaw. Cress gasped.

Jacin stumbled back, his hand coming up to feel the wound.

“That’s for selling us out on Earth,” said Thorne. “And this is for taking care of Cress.” He pulled Jacin into a hug, burying his face in Jacin’s shoulder.

Jacin rolled his eyes to the cavernous ceiling. “Don’t make me regret that decision.” He shoved Thorne away. “Your eyesight’s back. Good. Let’s search these men for weapons and get out of here.”

With a nod, Thorne leaned over one of the bodies and unstrapped the knife from the guard’s belt. To Cress’s surprise, he handed it to Jacin, who hesitated only briefly before tucking it through his belt. “How did you know how to find us?” Thorne asked.

“We didn’t. We were on our way out of here.” Jacin frowned. “Where’s Winter?”

“She and Scarlet went into hiding,” said Iko. She was poking at her limp right arm, then tugging at her deadened fingers. “Well, sort of. It’s complicated.”

Thorne peered at the android. “What happened?”

Her lips bunched. “One of those guards stabbed me in the shoulder. I think it severed something important.” She turned to show them a jagged cut in her upper back and sighed. “It’s like this is ‘Pick on Iko’ day or something.”

Cress pressed her lips in sympathy, but the reminder of Iko’s cybernetic parts made her realize … “Where’s Cinder?”

Thorne’s face became shadowed, but before he could respond, a chime blared through the tunnel. Cress jumped.