Winter Page 8

  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 capto
rs 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.

  “Got everything we need?” said Thorne, chipper as ever. Iko, Cress, and Wolf filed in after him.

  Kai dropped Cinder’s hands and she took a step back, adjusting her tool belt. “The pod’s ready. Triple-checked. There shouldn’t be any surprises.”

  “And the guest of honor?”

  “I have everything I came with,” said Kai, indicating his rumpled wedding clothes.

  Iko stepped forward and handed Kai a box labeled PROTEIN OATS. “We have a gift for you too.”

  He flipped it over to the child’s game printed on the back. “Yum?”

  “Open it,” said Iko, bouncing on her toes.

  Prying open the top, Kai turned it over and dumped a thin silver chain and a medallion into his palm. He lifted it up to eye level, inspecting the rather tarnished insignia. “‘The American Republic 86th Space Regiment,’” he read. “I can see why it made you think of me.”

  “We found it in one of the old military uniforms,” said Iko. “It’s to remind you that you’re one of us now, no matter what happens.”

  Kai grinned. “It’s perfect.” He looped the chain around his neck and tucked the medallion under his shirt. He gave Cress a quick farewell embrace, then pulled Iko into a hug. Iko squeaked, frozen.

  When Kai pulled away, Iko looked from him, to Cinder, then back. Her eyes suddenly rolled up into her head and she collapsed onto the floor.

  Kai jumped back. “What happened? Did I hit her power button or something?”

  Frowning, Cinder took a step closer. “Iko, what are you doing?”

  “Kai hugged me,” said Iko, eyes still closed. “So I fainted.”

  With an awkward laugh, Kai turned to face Cinder. “You’re not going to faint too, are you?”

  “Doubtful.”

  Kai wrapped his arms around Cinder and kissed her, and though she wasn’t used to having an audience, Cinder didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. An impractical, uncalculating part of her brain told her to not let go. To not say good-bye.

  The light mood was gone when they separated. He set his brow against hers, the tips of his hair brushing her cheeks. “I’m on your side,” he said. “No matter what.”

  “I know.”

  Kai turned to face Wolf last. He lifted his chin and adjusted his fine shirt. “All right, I’m ready when you—”

  The punch hit Kai square in the cheek, knocking him back into Cinder. Everyone gasped. Iko jerked upward with a surprised cry as Kai pressed a hand against his face.

  “Sorry,” said Wolf, cringing with guilt. “It’s better when you don’t see it coming.”

  “I somehow doubt that,” said Kai, his words slurred.

  Cinder pried his hand away to examine the wound, which was flaming red and already beginning to swell. “You didn’t break the skin. He’s fine. It’ll bruise up nicely by the time he’s back on Earth.”

  “Sorry,” Wolf said again.

  Kai gave his head a shake and didn’t complain when Cinder pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “It’s weirdly attractive.”

  His laugh was wry, but appreciative. He kissed her one last time before hurrying into the podship, like he might change his mind if he stayed for another moment.

  “Do I get a good-bye kiss too?” said Thorne, stepping in front of Cinder.

  Scowling, Cinder shoved him away. “Wolf’s not the only one who can throw a right hook around here.”

  Thorne chuckled and raised a suggestive eyebrow at Iko.

/>   The android, still on the floor, shrugged apologetically. “I would love to give you a good-bye kiss, Captain, but that lingering embrace from His Majesty may have fried a few wires, and I’m afraid a kiss from you would melt my central processor.”

  “Oh, trust me,” said Thorne, winking at her. “It would.”

  For an instant, while the joke was still written across his face, Thorne’s gaze flickered hopefully toward Cress, but Cress was captivated by her own fingernails.

  Then the look vanished and Thorne was marching to the pilot’s side of the shuttle.

  “Good luck,” said Cinder, watching them adjust their harnesses.

  Thorne gave her a quick salute, but it was Kai she was worried about. He tried to smile, still rubbing his cheekbone, as the doors sank down around them. “You too.”

  Twelve

  Kai watched Thorne’s hands, seemingly competent, as they toggled a few switches on the podship’s control panel. They emerged from the Rampion’s dock and dove toward planet Earth. Thorne tapped some coordinates into the computer and Kai was surprised at the jolt of longing he felt to see the satellite imagery of the Commonwealth appear on the screen.

  The plan was for Thorne to leave Kai at one of the royal safe houses—far enough from civilization that the podship should go undetected, if they were quick about it, but close enough to the city that Kai would be retrieved within an hour of alerting his security staff to his return.

  “This must be weird for you,” Thorne said, dragging his fingers across a radar screen. “Your cyborg girlfriend being a wanted outlaw and your fiancée’s niece and all that.”

  Kai grimaced, which made his cheek start smarting again. “Honestly, I try not to think about the details.” He shifted his gaze toward the Rampion as it receded fast from the viewing window. “Does she really call herself my girlfriend?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t know. We haven’t spent an evening gossiping and painting each other’s toenails since the kidnapping.”

  Glaring, Kai leaned back against the headrest. “I’m already uncomfortable with you piloting this ship and being in control of my life. Try not to make it worse.”