Winter (67 page)

They turned down another hallway and passed over a skybridge made of glass. A silver stream passed beneath their feet.

“You’re right,” said Kai, “but I think I can at least get you inside.” He hesitated, before adding, “Cress, I won’t be able to stay. If I’m absent for too long, Levana will get suspicious, and that’s the last thing we need right now. You understand, right?”

“I understand.” She dropped her voice, although the hallways were empty—every guest, every guard, every servant waiting for the coronation to begin. “I suspect the door locks will be coded. The plan was to hack them, but Thorne had the portscreen with him…”

Kai unclipped his portscreen from his belt. “Can you use mine?”

She stared at the device. “You won’t … need it?”

“Not like you will. I couldn’t have brought it into the ceremony, anyway. All recording devices are prohibited.” He rolled his eyes and handed the port to her. Though it once would have felt like giving up one of his limbs, he’d gotten used to being without it after Levana had it confiscated.

Besides, a part of him was giddy with the knowledge that he was helping to undermine the queen.

“How do you know where we’re going?” Cress asked, tucking the port into one of the pockets in Torin’s jacket.

Kai scowled. “I had the great experience of partaking in one of her propaganda videos a while back.”

As they neared the palace wing on the opposite side of the lake from the great hall, where the coronation was set to start, oh, six minutes ago, Kai held up a hand, bringing them to a stop.

“Wait here,” he whispered, holding a finger to his lips.

Cress pressed herself against a wall. She looked tiny and terrified and preposterous in that poufy orange skirt, and some chivalrous instinct told Kai he shouldn’t abandon her here, of all places. But he shoved that instinct down, reminding himself that she was also the genius who had single-handedly shut down the entire security system of New Beijing Palace.

Straightening his patriotic sash, Kai stepped around the corner. This wing was sealed off, and as far as Kai knew, there was only this one door in and out. As expected, a guard stood in front of the door at mute attention. The same guard, Kai thought, who had been on duty when Levana had dragged him here before.

The guard’s eyes narrowed upon seeing Kai in his white silk tunic. “This area is not open to the public,” he said in a bored tone.

“I’m hardly ‘the public.’” Kai tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to look both accommodating and defiant. “My understanding is that the coronation regalia are held in this wing, are they not?”

The guard squinted suspiciously.

“I’ve been sent to obtain the Brooch of … Eternal Starlight. I’m sure you’ll understand that I’m rather short on time.”

“I’m sure you’re used to getting your way on Earth,
Your Emperorship
, but you will not be permitted past these doors, and to see the crown jewels, no less, without official documentation from the queen.”

“I understand, and I would gladly obtain that documentation if Her Majesty wasn’t at this very moment in the opposite wing of the palace, dressed in full coronation garb, having already been anointed with a concoction of sacred Eastern Commonwealth oils in order to purify her for the ceremony in which she will become empress of my country. So she’s just a little preoccupied at the moment, and I need to find that brooch before the ceremony is delayed even more than it already is.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“I’m beginning to, actually. Only an idiot would stall Her Majesty’s coronation. Would you like me to go to her now and explain how we cannot proceed because of your obstinacy?”

“I’ve never even heard of this ‘Brooch of Eternal Starlight.’”

“Of course you haven’t. It was designed specifically to represent an alliance between Luna and Earth and gifted to one of the queen’s great ancestors over a century ago. Unfortunately, as you may be aware, there hasn’t been an alliance between us in that time, so the brooch hasn’t been necessary. Until tonight—and the moron who was in charge of preparing the regalia forgot about it.”

“And they sent
you
to pick it up? Shouldn’t you be getting anointed with oils yourself?”

Kai let out a slow breath and dared to put himself in arm’s reach of the guard. “Unfortunately, I seem to be the only person on this little moon who has any clue what it looks like. Now—by the end of this night, I will be your king, and if you want to still have your job by tomorrow morning, I suggest you let me through.”

The guard’s jaw clenched. He still didn’t move.

Kai threw his arms up. “Stars above, I’m not asking you to open the door, close your eyes, and count to ten. Obviously, you’ll come in with me and make sure I don’t steal anything. But time is running out. I’m ten minutes late already. Perhaps you’d like to comm Her Majesty and explain the delay?”

With a huff, the guard stepped back and yanked open the door. “Fine. But if you touch anything other than this supposed
brooch
of yours, I will chop off your hand.”

“Fine.” Kai rolled his eyes in a way he hoped indicated a total lack of concern and followed the guard. Not that the guard was traveling far from his post—the vault that housed the crown jewels, when they weren’t being used for a coronation, was immediately on the left, behind an enormous vault door.

Kai averted his eyes while the guard pressed a code into a screen and scanned his fingerprints, then twisted the unlock mechanism.

The door, when it opened, was as thick as the guard’s skull.

The vault was lined with velvet and spotlights that shined on empty pedestals. Most of the crowns and orbs and scepters that usually lived there were already down in the great hall.

But it wasn’t empty, either.

Kai took in a deep breath and started pacing around the vault. He inspected every ring, scabbard, coronet, and cuff, all the pieces the Lunar crown had collected over the years to be used in a variety of ceremonies. Most of them, Kai knew, had been gifts from Earth a long, long time ago. A show of goodwill, before the relationship between Earth and Luna had been severed.

He heard a padded footstep outside the vault door but he dared not look up. “Here!” he yelled, turning his back on the guard, his heart lodged in his throat, as he imagined Cress scurrying past the door. He pulled the medallion from his pocket, the one Iko had given him aboard the Rampion, what felt like ages ago. He rubbed his thumb over the tarnished insignia and the faded words.
The American Republic 86th Space Regiment.
“Found it,” he said, holding the medallion up so the guard could see he was holding something without getting a very good look at it. Cress was gone, and Kai wasn’t faking his relief as he said, “Whew. Great. We couldn’t have done the coronation without it. Her Majesty will be thrilled. I’ll see if we can’t get you a promotion, all right?” He slapped the guard on the arm. “I guess that’s it, then. Thanks for your help. I’d better hurry back.”

The guard grunted, and Kai knew he was anything but convinced, but it didn’t matter.

When he and the guard stepped back into the corridor, Cress had already disappeared.

*   *   *

Cress hurried around the first corner and pressed her back against the wall, her heart in her throat. She waited until she heard the guard shutting the vault door, then she started to run, hoping the noise of the vault’s locking mechanism would cover the sound of her footsteps.

She remembered this hall from when Sybil used to bring her before, and it was easy to find the door to the control center once she had her bearings. She slid to a stop and hesitantly tested the handle. She was relieved to find it locked, a good indication that no one was inside. She’d been confident the security staff would have located themselves to a satellite control room nearer the great hall—that had been the procedure during important events when she worked for Sybil—but being confident wasn’t being certain. The gun, heavy in Torin’s jacket pocket, offered no comfort at all should she run into more opposition now.

Cress crouched before the security panel and retrieved Kai’s portscreen. She unwound the universal connector cable.

It took her twenty-eight seconds to break into the room, which was an eternity, but she was distracted, jumping at every distant noise. Sweat was snaking down her spine by the time she heard the door unlatch.

Her breath was shaky but relieved. No one was inside. The door shut behind her.

Cress’s adrenaline was pumping like jet fuel through her veins as she scanned the room. She was surrounded by invisi-screens and holographs and programming, and the familiarity of it all made the knot in her stomach loosen. Instinct and habit. She formed a checklist in her mind.

The room was big, but crowded with desks and chairs and equipment, panels that switched from video footage of the outer sectors to the underground shuttle map to surveillance feeds of different sections of the palace. A separate recording suite was accessed through a soundproof door. Lights and recording equipment surrounded a replica of the queen’s throne. A sheer veil was draped over a mannequin head and the sight gave Cress a chill down her spine. It felt like it was watching her.

She turned away from the mannequin and settled herself into one of the controller’s chairs. She removed the gun from the jacket pocket and set it and the portscreen on the desk, both within easy reach. She felt the press of time as keenly as Kai had. She’d already wasted too much of it. Kissing Thorne in the atrium. Hiding in that cabinet. Dodging in and out of corridors like a lost rabbit.

But she was here. She’d made it. She’d been heroic—almost.

Her objectives spooled through her thoughts.

Placing her fingertips across the nearest invisi-screen, she began to count them off, one by one.

First, she reconfigured the security codes for the queen’s broadcasting transmitter. She put the palace’s armory under lockdown. She scheduled a retraction for the tunnel barricades surrounding Artemisia.

Breaking through the codes, navigating the protocols—it felt like a choreographed dance, and though her muscles were weary, they still remembered the steps.

Finally, she pulled the chip from her bodice. She envisioned the transmitter on top of the palace, sending the crown’s official feed to receivers throughout the dome. A closed feed, protected by a complex labyrinth of internal firewalls and security codes.

Five minutes could have passed. Eight. Nine, at the most.

Check. Check. Check—

She heard footsteps in the hallway as she was inserting the chip with Cinder’s video into the port. She felt the satisfying click.

Download, data transfer, translate the encryption.

Her fingers danced over the screens, daring the coding to keep up.

Boots outside, pounding faster now.

Her hair clung to the back of her neck.

Check. Check.

Done.

Cress cleared the screens, disguising her motives with a few hasty commands.

The door crashed open. Guards filed in.

Confused silence.

Squeezed into the alcove between the bank of screens and the transmitter’s mainframe, Cress held her breath.

“Spread out—and get tech up here to find out what she did!”

“She left a portscreen,” said someone else, and she heard a subtle clacking on the desk as they picked it up. Trembling, Cress looked down at the gun cradled in her hands. Her stomach was knotted again. She couldn’t help feeling like she’d grabbed the wrong thing. They would know the portscreen was Kai’s easy enough. They would know he’d helped her. “Maybe she was planning on coming back.”

“You, stay here and wait for tech. And I want a guard posted at every door in this wing until she’s found. Go!”

The door slammed shut and Cress released a shaky breath, wilting from the surge of adrenaline.

She was trapped. Thorne was captured.

But they had been heroic.

Seventy-Seven

Jacin had gone back outside by the time Winter finished cleaning the slippery gel-like substance out of her hair. She changed into the dry clothes someone had brought for her.

She could not stop smiling. Jacin was back and he was alive.

And yet, at the same time, her heart ached. People were going to die today.

She checked her arms. The rash was already receding. At least, some of the bruises looked not quite as dark, and the blue had disappeared from beneath her fingernails.

When she left the security of the washroom, she found the clinic crammed full of people—the one doctor and a dozen civilians checking on the patients who had been too ill to line up for the antidote outside. Seven deaths, she’d been told. In the short time since Levana had infected Winter, seven people in this sector had died from letumosis.

It would have been many more if Jacin and Cinder hadn’t arrived, but Winter was hardly comforted. Seven deaths. Seven people who could have been in the suspension tank if they hadn’t given it to her.

Winter passed the patients slowly, taking the time to smile and offer a comforting squeeze of a shoulder as she made her way to the exit. She emerged on the little wooden step.

A whooping cheer swelled up in the dome, hundreds of voices buffeting her.

Winter froze, then backed into the building’s overhang again. The crowd continued to cheer, shaking their makeshift weapons over their heads. The wolf soldiers started to howl. Winter wondered if she, too, should cheer. Or howl. Or if they expected her to speak—though her throat still felt chapped and her brain was still muddled.

Scarlet appeared beside her, waving her arms in an attempt to quiet the crowd. She looked both pleased and annoyed as she faced Winter. The evidence of the plague still lingered on Scarlet’s pale skin—freckles mixed with bruises and irritated flesh. Though there were still a few dark blisters, the disease had not escalated as quickly on Scarlet as it had on Winter and those seven poor residents. They all knew she’d gotten lucky.

“What’s happening?” Winter asked.