Winter (10 page)

It took her a moment, but she finally met his gaze, then shifted to look at each of them in turn. Though Thorne was their captain, they all knew Cinder was the one that held them together.

“We’re all risking our lives,” she said. “I just don’t want to risk them unnecessarily. I want to make sure we’re prepared to—” She froze, her eyes unfocusing. Cress recognized the look from when Cinder was seeing something on her retina display.

Blinking rapidly, Cinder turned back to Kai, stunned. “Ship, turn on cargo bay netscreen, Commonwealth newsfeed.”

Kai frowned. “What’s going on?”

The netscreen flickered to life. It showed Kai’s chief adviser—Konn Torin—standing at a podium. Before the audio signal could connect, though, Cinder said, “I’m so sorry, Kai. Your palace is under attack.”

Ten

They watched the newsfeed in silence, the cameras trembling as android-manned hovers circled the palace below. Many of the gardens were smoking from fires set by the queen’s soldiers, statues toppled and the massive gate torn to shreds, but the palace itself remained untouched. So far the single regiment of the Commonwealth’s military stationed at the palace had kept the enemy at bay while they waited for reinforcements to arrive.

The siege on New Beijing Palace went against the strategies the wolf soldiers had been using throughout the war. They had become infamous for their guerilla attacks and scare tactics, as concerned with making the people of Earth terrified of them as they were with winning actual battles. To date, there had been no real
battles
at all—only skirmishes and surprise attacks, resulting in too much bloodshed and too many nightmares.

The wolf soldiers moved in packs, stealthy and quick. They caused havoc and destruction wherever they went, then disappeared before the Earthen military could catch up to them. There was speculation that they were moving through the sewers or disappearing into the wilderness, leaving a trail of blood and severed limbs in their wake. They were fond of leaving at least one witness alive in the aftermath to report on their brutality.

Again and again, their message was clear.
No one is safe.

Earth had killed their share of the Lunar soldiers, as well as some of the thaumaturges that led each pack. They weren’t invincible, as Earthen leaders pointed out again and again. But after 126 years of peace, the Earthen Union was unprepared to wage a war, especially one so unpredictable. For generations, their militaries had become more decorated social service workers than anything else, providing manual labor in impoverished communities and running supplies when natural disasters struck. Now, every country was scrambling to conscript more soldiers into their forces, to train them, to manufacture weaponry.

All the while, the Lunar soldiers decimated whole neighborhoods, leaving only the echo of their bloodthirsty howls behind.

Until now.

This attack on New Beijing Palace was the first time, as far as anyone could tell, multiple packs had come together in one orchestrated attack, and in broad daylight too. Cinder wondered if they were getting cocky, or if they were trying to make a statement. She tried to take solace in the fact that there were more wolf-mutant bodies lying on the palace grounds than she’d ever seen in one place—surely this battle would hurt their numbers, at least in New Beijing. But it was little comfort, when their blood was mixed with that of Earthen soldiers and one of the palace’s towers was smoldering.

“The palace has been evacuated,” said a journalist, speaking over the catastrophe in the video, “and all human officials and servants have been moved to safety. The secretary of defense commented in a speech only twenty minutes ago that they are not speculating at this time how long this siege might last, or how much destruction might be incurred. So far, military experts estimate upward of three hundred Commonwealth soldiers have been lost in this attack, and close to fifty Lunars.”

“I feel so useless,” Iko said, her tone deep with a misery only an android could understand. Iko was by no means a typical android, but she still managed to harbor one distinguishable trait all androids had been programmed with: the need to be useful.

On Cinder’s other side was Kai, stricken. No doubt he was experiencing his own sense of uselessness. No doubt it was tearing him apart.

“The military will hold them,” Cinder said.

He nodded, but his brow was drawn.

Sighing, she let her gaze travel from Kai to Wolf, Thorne to Cress to Iko. All watching the screen, determined and angry and horrified. Her attention swung back to Kai. He was veiling his emotions well, but she knew it was killing him. Watching his home burn. Having never had a home she cared about, at least not until she’d come aboard the Rampion, Cinder couldn’t imagine the pain he was in.

She clenched her teeth, thinking of all their calculations, all their plans.

Kai was right. She would never feel ready, but they couldn’t sit around doing nothing forever.

Thorne had his sight back.

Wolf had told her about his parents—laborers who had worked in factories and regolith mines all their lives. If they were alive, he thought they might be willing to offer them shelter on Luna. They might be allies.

The queen was making the boldest move she’d made since the war started, which either meant she was getting overconfident or she was getting desperate. Either way, Cinder didn’t want Luna to win this battle. She didn’t want them to have control of New Beijing Palace, even if it was merely symbolic. It was the home of the Commonwealth’s royal family. It belonged to Kai, not Levana.
Never
Levana.

“We have had word,” said the journalist, “that the radical political group calling themselves the Association for Commonwealth Security has issued yet another statement calling for the forced abdication of Emperor Kaito, once again insisting that he cannot be the ruler we need in these troubled times, and that so long as he remains in the hands of terrorists, it is impossible for him to have the country’s welfare as his primary concern. Though the ACS ideology has been largely ignored in mainstream politics, a recent net-based poll has indicated that their opinions are growing in popularity among the general public.”

“Terrorists?” said Iko, looking around the group. “Does she mean
us
?”

Cinder dragged a frustrated hand down her face. Kai would be a great leader,
was
a great leader, but he hadn’t yet been given the chance to prove himself. It made her stomach churn to think that his reign could be cut short, and all because of her.

She wanted to hug Kai and tell him they were idiots. They had no idea how much he cared about his country’s welfare.

But that’s not what he needed to hear.

Her retina display switched between her most-watched feeds. Body counts; death tolls; footage from the plague quarantines; teenagers standing in line outside recruitment centers, too many of them looking almost giddy to join the fight and defend their planet from this invasion. Levana in her sheer white veil.

She sent the feeds away.

Kai was watching her. “It’s time, Cinder.”

Time to say good-bye. Time to move ahead. Time to let go of the little utopia they’d cocooned themselves in.

“I know,” she said, her voice sad and heavy. “Thorne, let’s get ready to take Kai home.”

Eleven

“Thought I might find you down here.”

Cinder peeked around the side of the podship. Kai was loitering in the doorway, hands in his pockets, dressed again in his wedding finery.

She brushed some loose strands of hair off her forehead. “Just doing some basic maintenance,” she said, disconnecting the power cell gauge from the podship and closing the hatch. “Making sure it’s ready for your big return. I figured it was enough risk letting Thorne be your pilot; the least I could do is make sure the transport is in good condition.”

“I wish you were coming with us.”

“Yeah, me too, but we can’t risk it.”

“I know. It’s just nice to have a mechanic on board. In case anything, you know … breaks.” He scratched his ear.

“Oh,
that’s
why you want me there. How flattering.” Cinder wrapped the cord around the gauge and returned it to a cabinet bolted to the wall.

“That, and I’m going to miss you.” His voice had gone soft, and it warmed the base of her stomach.

“With any luck, we’ll see each other again soon.”

“I know.”

Cinder peeled off her work gloves and shoved them into her back pocket. There was still a tinge of panic at the action—her brain reminding her, out of habit, that she wasn’t supposed to remove the gloves in front of anyone, especially Kai—but she ignored it. Kai didn’t blink at the unveiling of her cyborg hand, like he didn’t even notice it anymore.

She knew
she
was thinking about it less and less. Sometimes she was even surprised upon seeing a flash of metal in the corner of her eye when she went to pick something up. It was strange. She’d always been aware of it before, mortified that someone might see it.

“Are you scared?” she asked, pulling a wrench from her tool belt.

“Terrified,” he said, but with a nonchalance that made her feel better about her own insides being wound into tight little knots. “But I’m ready to go back. I’m sure Torin is about to have a heart attack. And…” He shrugged. “I’m a little homesick.”

“They’ll be glad to have you back.” Cinder knelt beside the ship, checking the bolts on the landing gear. She fit the wrench onto one, two, three bolts—none were loose. “Do you know what you’re going to say to Levana?”

Kai crouched beside her, elbows braced against his knees. “I’m going to tell her I’ve fallen for one of my captors and the wedding is off.”

Cinder’s arm froze.

He smirked. “At least, that’s what I wish I could tell her.”

She blew a lock of hair out of her face and finished checking the bolts, before moving to the other side of the ship to repeat the process.

“I’m going to tell her I had nothing to do with the kidnapping,” said Kai, donning what Cinder had come to think of as his
emperor voice.
“I’m in no way affiliated with you or the crew and I did my best to bargain for a quick release. I was a victim, held hostage, unable to escape. I’ll probably make up something about inhumane treatment.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Then I’ll
beg
her to marry me. Again.” His lip curled with disgust.

Cinder couldn’t blame him. The more she thought of it, the more she wanted to hijack this podship and head for Mars.

“When I see you again,” said Kai, “I’ll have clothes for everyone and new plating for Iko. If you think of anything else you need, Cress thinks she can get me an encrypted comm.” He inhaled deeply. “Whatever happens, I’m on your side.”

The sentiment both encouraged her and sent a shock of anxiety through her nerves. “I’m sorry to put you in so much danger.”

“You’re not,” he said. “She was already going to kill me.”

“You could try sounding a little more concerned when you say that.”

“What is there to be concerned about?” His eyes glinted. “You’re going to rescue me long before that happens.”

Finished with the bolts, she stood and shoved the wrench back into her belt.

“Cinder…”

She froze, disconcerted at the serious edge in his voice.

“There’s something I have to say before I go. In case—”

“Don’t. Don’t you even think this will be the last time we see each other.”

A wistful smile touched his mouth, but quickly fled again. “I want to apologize.”

“For suggesting this might be the last time we see each other? Because that
is
cruel, when here I am, trying to get some work done, and—”

“Cinder, listen to me.”

She clenched her jaw shut and allowed Kai to take her shoulders, his thumbs tender against her collarbone. “I’m sorry about what happened at the ball. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I … I said those things.”

Cinder looked away. Though so much had changed between them since that night, it still felt like an ice pick in her heart when she remembered the way he’d looked at her, and his horrified words:
You’re even more painful to look at than she is.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You were in shock.”

“I was an idiot. I’m ashamed at how I treated you. I should have had more faith in you.”

“Please. You barely knew me. Then to find out all at once that I’m cyborg and Lunar … I wouldn’t have trusted me either. Besides, you were under a lot of stress and—”

He tipped forward and kissed her on the forehead. The gentleness stilled her.

“You were still the girl who fixed Nainsi,” he said. “You were still the girl who warned me about Levana’s plans. You were still the girl who wanted to save her little sister.”

She flinched at the mention of Peony, her younger stepsister. Her death was a wound that hadn’t fully healed.

Kai’s hands slipped down her arms, interlacing with her fingers—flesh and metal alike. “You were trying to protect yourself, and I should have tried harder to defend you.”

Cinder gulped. “When you said I was even more painful to look at than Levana…”

Kai inhaled sharply, like the memory of the words hurt him as much as it hurt her.

“… do I … did I look like her? Does my glamour look like hers?”

A crease formed between his brows, and he stared at her, into her, before shaking his head. “Not exactly. You still looked like
you
, just…” He struggled for a word. “Perfect. A flawless version of you.”

It was clear that it wasn’t meant as a compliment.

“You mean, an unnatural version of me.”

After a hesitation, he said, “I suppose so.”

“I think it was instinct,” she said. “I didn’t realize I was using a glamour. I just knew I didn’t want you to know I was a cyborg.” A wry chuckle. “It seems so silly now.”

“Good.” He tugged her close again. “We must have made progress.”

His lips had just brushed hers when the door opened.