Winter (84 page)

“Would you be with me?”

“Of course.” He crossed one ankle over the other. “But you could say no, and I’ll be with you then too. I’m done serving everyone else.” He leaned back onto his elbows. “Who knows. Maybe someday I’ll take up studying to be a doctor again. But until then, I’m your guard, to do with as you will.”

“So it will be like playing the Princess and the Guard,” she said—a game they’d played when they were kids. She’d act out a much bossier version of herself, while Jacin would model himself after their fathers, all stoic and serious and scrambling to do her bidding. When Winter ran out of commands to give him, they would pretend there were murderers and kidnappers coming for the princess and he would protect her from them.

Jacin grinned. “Hopefully with fewer kidnappings.”

She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “If Cinder wishes it, I would be honored to charm the people of Earth.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.” Lying all the way back, he rubbed a hand over his forehead.

Ryu howled, crying his soul up to the menagerie’s vine-covered glass ceiling. He was not usually so restless. Maybe it was Jacin’s presence. Maybe Ryu was trying to speak to her.

Maybe this was her own insanity, signifying nothing.

Winter started to speak, but hesitated. She looked down at Jacin, but he had his hand covering his eyes. She wondered if he’d been sleeping much lately.

“Dr. Nandez says she may have a prototype of Cinder’s device ready within the next week.”

Jacin’s hand lifted. “Already?”

“She doesn’t know yet if it will work. She needs a test subject first.”

“Princess—”

“I’ve already volunteered. You can try to talk me out of it, but I’m fully prepared to ignore you.”

Jaw tensing, Jacin sat up again. “The
test
subject? We don’t know what the side effects will be. We don’t know if it will even work. Let someone else try it first.”

“I want to do it. I am one of the most severe cases of Lunar sickness to date.” She lost her fingers in the wolf’s fur. “But it’s occurred to me that, if it works, I won’t see Ryu again.” She smiled sadly. “And what if … what if people don’t like me anymore?”

Jacin shook his head. “They don’t like you because you’re crazy. They like you because…”

She waited.

“Because you were good to them when no one else was. Because you care. This device won’t change who you are.”

“You want me to be fixed, don’t you?”

Jacin drew back, as if she’d thrown something at him. “You’re not
broken
.”

Her vision began to blur. “Yes, Jacin. I am.”

“No, you’re—” He growled, a throaty, frustrated sound that made her feel giddy. “Look, I would love to not have to worry about you anymore. That you’ll hurt yourself or that someone will take advantage of you. But
you’re
not—you’re—”

“I’m delusional, and crazy, and damaged. I’ve known it a long time, we both have. Scarlet tells me all the time.”

“You’re perfect,” he said, finishing his thought as if she hadn’t interrupted. “I don’t care if you see dead wolves and turn into a living ice sculpture when you’re having a bad day. I don’t care if I have an imprint of your teeth on my shoulder. I don’t care if you’re …
fixed.
” He spat the word like it tasted bad. “I want you to be safe and happy. That’s all.”

Winter fluttered her lashes at him, and he turned away. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I want to be the test subject.” She reached for his hand. “I’ll be safe and happy when I’m no longer afraid of my own mind.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Jacin nodded. Slowly. “I just don’t like the idea of you going first,” he grumbled.

“Jacin?”

He met her gaze again.

Winter scooted closer and linked her arm with his. “You think I’m perfect?”

He didn’t look away. Didn’t look bashful or even nervous. Just stared at her, like she’d asked him if Luna orbited the Earth.

Then he leaned over and brushed a kiss against her forehead. “Just sort of,” he said. “You know. On a good day.”

Ninety-Seven

“
All
of them?”

Cinder smiled at Iko’s exuberance. She had already gotten more joy out of the way Iko was beaming at the rows and rows and
rows
of dresses than she ever would have gotten from the dresses themselves.

“Every last one,” said Cinder. “I never want to look at them again.”

She had already spent more time surrounded by Levana than she’d intended. Her perfume, her gowns, her jewelry. She had no interest in her aunt’s wardrobe—but Iko did, so Iko could have them all.

She had never seen Iko so pleased. Not even when Thorne had brought her that escort-droid body he’d found in the desert. Not even when the shipment from Earth had finally arrived with the spare parts to fix her near-destroyed body. Cinder had told her that with so much damage it would be more cost effective to install her personality chip into a brand-new body. She could have had her pick of any model she wanted. But Iko had refused. She had grown attached to this one, she’d said, and besides—none of her friends’ bodies were disposable, so why should hers be?

Cinder had no argument for that.

The only upgrade Iko had requested was a pair of brand-new eyes that changed colors based on her moods. Today her eyes were sunburst yellow. Happy, happy, happy.

“You won’t mind seeing them on me, will you?” asked Iko, pulling a slinky orange piece off its hanger and holding it against her chest.

“Not if they make you that happy.”

“Where will I wear them?” Before Cinder could answer, she waved her hand. “Never mind. Where
wouldn’t
I wear them?” Hanging the slinky dress back up, Iko scanned the wardrobe again. Her eyes darkened—more buttercup now, with a tinge of lime around the edges. “I think I feel guilty.”

“Guilty?”

Huffing, Iko planted her hands on her hips. Her concern lasted for a few moments before she beamed again. “I know. I’ll choose my ten favorites and sell the rest on escort-droid costuming feeds. We can use the proceeds to build schools in the outer sectors, or something charitable like that.” Fingering a fine lace sleeve, she glanced at Cinder. “What do you think?”

If Cinder’s eyes reflected
her
moods, they would have been sapphire-blue proud. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Iko beamed and started working her way through the racks again, narrowing down her favorites, while Cinder turned to face her reflection in the mirror that had been loaned to her from one of the Earthen spaceships. She was still getting used to seeing herself looking so …
queenly.

Her own gown was brand-new. Although she had intended to wear one of Winter’s dresses again, a few Artemisian seamstresses had pleaded to be allowed to design her coronation dress, proclaiming what an honor it would be. Cinder hadn’t even known she had expectations until the dress surpassed them.

Done up in Luna’s official colors of white, red, and black, the gown was made of more material than she’d ever seen in her life. The heavy white skirt draped around her like a bell, with a massive train that would follow her down the long, long aisle. Red and black gems were beaded along the skirt’s hem and woven through the bodice. A modest neckline with capped sleeves fit her perfectly.

She had expected the seamstresses to also make gloves to cover her cyborg hand, but they didn’t. “No gloves,” one of the seamstresses said when she asked. “And no veil.”

A knock drew her attention to the door and the guard, Kinney, entered. “Your Majesty,” he greeted. His respectful expression turned sour as he addressed Iko, “Madame Counselor.”

Iko’s eyes went coppery with pride at her new title, even though she met the guard with a sour glare of her own.

“Yes, Kinney?” said Cinder.

“The captain and his crew are requesting an audience.”

“Ha!” Thorne’s voice carried from the corridor. “I told you I could get him to call me the captain.”

Cinder rolled her eyes. “Let them in.”

They poured in before Kinney could admit them, all grinning and dressed formally for the occasion. Even Wolf was wearing a suit, though Cinder couldn’t imagine it had been easy to find one to fit his altered body on such short notice. His red shirt matched Scarlet’s stunning red dress, the fabric clashing spectacularly with her hair. Thorne was in a tuxedo and bow tie. He came in pushing Cress along on her floating contraption—Cinder had heard that her wounds were healing well and she was expected to be walking in short bursts by the end of the week. She was wearing one of Winter’s gauzy yellow dresses, hemmed to fit her. Jacin was in his guard uniform, but had replaced the normal shoulder armor with dashing epaulets, making him almost prince-like beside Winter, who was even more breathtaking than usual in a white gown that would have looked plain on anyone else. Kai followed the group in a black dress shirt with a mandarin collar.

He was carrying a silver platter topped with a round, single-tiered cake covered in swirls of pale yellow frosting. Cinder knew immediately that it wasn’t from the royal pastry chefs, whose creations were almost too immaculate to touch. This cake, with its messy frosting and lack of decoration, was remarkably unpretentious.

With a bow, the guard slipped out the door. Iko stuck her tongue out at his retreating back.

“What’s going on?” said Cinder. “The coronation starts in twenty minutes. You should all be seated by now.”

“It was my idea,” said Iko, bouncing on her toes. “I knew you’d be nervous, so I thought we’d have a celebration first.”

“And you made a cake?”

“Scarlet did,” said Thorne.

Scarlet brushed her hair off her shoulder. “It’s a lemon cake. My grandmother’s special recipe. But”—her gaze swooped down Cinder’s dress—“you might want to wait until after the coronation so you don’t get frosting all over yourself.”

Winter snorted and grabbed the tray away from Kai. “Let’s not be cruel. One should never save cake for later when it can be eaten now.” She slid the cake onto a priceless silk divan.

“I’ve never had cake before,” said Cress, drawing plenty of surprised looks. She was holding Thorne’s hand, but for once she didn’t shrink closer to him, even being the center of attention.

Iko crossed her arms. “Can we please not start listing all the wonderful, marvelous food we’ve never had?”

“That settles it, then,” said Thorne. “Who brought the silverware?”

No one had, so Jacin offered his dagger instead. They took turns cutting off bite-size chunks of cake and frosting and eating it with their fingers until the cake resembled little more than the crater-pocked surface of the moon.

Naturally, Cinder got some on her gown—a smear of yellow frosting on the enormous skirt. She was mortified until Iko adjusted the skirt so the folds would hide it.

“It was inevitable,” Iko said with a wink. “It’s part of your charm.”

Cinder started to laugh, but was startled into silence by a sudden hiccup in her chest.

She looked around, at the smiles and the arms draped over shoulders and Winter daintily licking buttercream from her fingers. At the homemade cake. A gathering of friends. A celebration, for
her.
They were silly things to be floored by, but she couldn’t help it. She’d never had these things before.

Gratitude swelled behind her sternum, and though she was still nervous—still
terrified
—she realized that she felt lighter than she had in days.

“Your Majesty?”

She looked up. Kinney had returned.

“It’s time.”

Cinder gulped and stood, her heart thumping. The festive mood turned serious.

Wolf, who had been holding the knife last, gobbled down a few extra bites before passing the knife back to Jacin. Jacin took one look at the frosting- and crumb-covered blade and stuck it back in the cake for safekeeping.

“I’m ready,” said Cinder. Breathing became difficult as the dress constricted against her stomach. “I am ready, aren’t I?”

“Hold on.” Iko turned Cinder to face her. “Smile.”

Cinder gave her a nervous smile, and Iko nodded proudly. “Nothing in your teeth. I’d say you’re ready.”

Her friends gathered around her, pulling her into embrace after embrace.

Until she reached Kai, who wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her. He tasted like lemon frosting.

Thorne whistled. Iko swooned. The kiss ended too quickly.

“What was that for?” Cinder whispered against him.

Kai scooped his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the queen’s chambers. “I was just thinking about the good future,” he said. “The one with you in it.”

*   *   *

The official coronation of Queen Selene Channary Jannali Blackburn was in some ways an intimate affair, and in others an intergalactic sensation. Cinder had held a lottery for tickets so all of Luna’s sectors would be represented, and all the guests combined made for a crowd a few hundred strong, which barely filled up half the seats that had been set out for Levana and Kai’s ceremony a few weeks prior.

The footage was broadcast, not only to every sector on Luna but also to all Earthen newsfeeds that chose to run it. It became the most viewed netfeed of the third era.

While Cinder walked down the endless black-carpeted aisle, she tried not to think of all the people in the universe who were watching her. She tried not to wonder whether they were judging her or admiring her, afraid of her or impressed by her. She tried not to guess how many saw her as a lost princess or a pathetic cyborg, a vigilante or a criminal, a revolutionary or a lowly mechanic that had gotten lucky.

She tried not to think about the smear of yellow frosting on her priceless gown.

Kai and Winter stood at the altar encased in the light of glowing orbs, Winter holding the queen’s crown and Kai a ceremonial scepter. Together, they represented how both Earth and Luna would accept her right to rule. The rest of her friends were in their reserved seats in the front row. Thorne, on the aisle, held out his hand as Cinder passed. She snorted and accepted the high five before floating up the stairs.