Cress

by Marissa Meyer

  He stiffened. “Escorts?”

  “We would use only the most realistic models. We could even place special orders for those with more humanoid characteristics. Complexion flaws, natural hair and eye colors, varying body types and bone structures. I would be sure to find androids that wouldn’t draw attention to themselves.”

  Kai opened his mouth to refute, again, but paused. Escort-droids were designed mostly for companionship. It would be an insult of the highest order if Levana became aware that they were at her wedding ceremony.

  But …

  “They can’t be brainwashed.”

  Priya was silent for a moment, before continuing, “We could also use them to record the proceedings, in case Her Majesty or her guests attempt anything … untoward.”

  “Has Levana insisted on having no cameras again?” The queen hated being recorded, and she’d demanded there be no recording devices at the annual ball when she was his special guest.

  “No, Your Majesty, the queen recognizes the importance of this event being broadcast on an international scope. She’s put up no resistance on that front.”

  He released a breath.

  “However, with androids we could ensure that we’ll have eyes everywhere, so to speak.” She shrugged. “Hopefully this would be a precaution that is unnecessary.”

  Kai fidgeted with his cuff. It was a smart idea. The most powerful men and women on Earth would be at this ceremony, making it awfully easy for Levana to abuse her powers of manipulation. Having loyal staff who couldn’t be affected could be an insurance policy against a worldwide political catastrophe.

  But Levana hated androids. If she found out, she would be livid, and he’d like to avoid any more outbursts from the queen if he could.

  “Thank you for the recommendation,” he said. “When do you need a decision?”

  “The end of this week, if we’re to place the order in time.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. Also, I wanted to tell you of a small realization I had this morning that amounts to one more benefit in broadcasting the nuptials.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Her Majesty refuses to remove her veil while in the presence of any recording devices, and so she will wear it throughout the wedding and coronation.” Reaching forward, she patted Kai’s wrist. “Which means you won’t have to kiss her.”

  He couldn’t help a sharp laugh. The knowledge did relieve a bit of his terror, but it was also a painful reminder. He figured he would still have to kiss her eventually. The thought made him sick.

  “Thank you, Tashmi-jiĕ. That does make it slightly less horrific.”

  Her whole face softened. “May I speak openly, Your Majesty?”

  “Of course.”

  She withdrew her hand and knotted her fingers on her lap. “I don’t mean to overstep any professional boundaries, but I have a son, you see. He’s about a year older than you are.”

  Kai gulped, surprised at a tinge of guilt. He had never imagined who this woman might be when she left the palace every day. He had never bothered to picture her with a family.

  “Lately, I’ve tried to imagine what this would be like on him,” Priya continued, gazing up at the drooping tree branches. The leaves were changing to gold, and every now and then a breeze would shake some loose and send them pinwheeling down to the pond. “What kind of toll would be paid for a young man with these responsibilities, forced to make these decisions.” She took in a deep breath, as if she regretted her words before she said them. “As a mother, I’m worried about you.”

  He met her gaze, and his heart lurched.

  “Thank you,” he said, “but you needn’t worry. I’m doing my best.”

  She smiled gently. “Oh, I know you are. But, Your Majesty, I’ve been planning this wedding for twelve days, and I’ve seen you age years in that time. It pains me to think how much harder everything will become after the wedding.”

  “I’ll have Torin still. And the cabinet, and the province reps … I’m not alone.”

  Even as he said it, he felt the jolt of a lie.

  He wasn’t alone. Was he?

  Anxiety crawled up his throat. Of course he wasn’t. He had an entire country behind him, and all the people in the palace, and …

  No one.

  No one could truly understand what he was risking, what sacrifices he may be making. Torin was smart enough to realize it, of course, but at the end of the day he still had his own home to return to.

  And Kai hadn’t confided in him that he and Nainsi were searching for Princess Selene again. He would never tell Torin that a part of him hoped Cinder would be safe. And he would never tell a single living soul how terrified he was, every moment of every day. How afraid he was that he was making an enormous mistake.

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Priya said. “I’d hoped, if it wasn’t too forward of me, that I might offer some motherly advice.”

  He pressed his fingertips onto the cool stone of the bench. “Perhaps I could use some of that.”

  Priya adjusted her sari on her shoulder, the gold embroidery catching in the sunlight. “Try to find something that makes you happy. Your life is not going to get easier once Queen Levana is your wife. If you had even one small thing that brought you happiness, or hope that things could someday be better, then maybe that would be enough to sustain you. Otherwise, I fear it will be too easy for the queen to win.”

  “And what would you suggest?”

  Priya shrugged. “Perhaps this garden is a good place to start?”

  Following her gesture, Kai took in the stalks of bamboo bowing over the stone walls, the myriad lilies beginning to fade after summer’s long showing, the bright fish that clustered and pressed against each other, ignorant of the turmoil in the world above their small pond. It was beautiful, but …

  “You aren’t convinced,” said Priya.

  He forced a smile. “It’s good advice. I just don’t know if I have the energy to be happy right now, about anything.”

  Priya seemed sad at his response, though not surprised. “Please, think about it. You deserve a respite every now and then. We all do, but you more than anyone.”

  He shrugged, but it had no enthusiasm. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “That’s all I can ask.” Priya stood, and Kai rose to join her. “Thank you for your time. Let me know your decision on the escort-droids.”

  Kai waited until she’d returned to the palace before settling onto the bench again. A slender golden leaf fluttered into his lap and he picked it up, twirling it between his fingers.

  Priya’s advice had merit. One bit of happiness, of hope, could make the difference in preserving his sanity, but it was a request easier made than fulfilled.

  He did have some happiness to look forward to. Seeing Levana’s signature on the Treaty of Bremen. Distributing her antidote and eradicating his planet of this awful plague.

  But those victories would come hand-in-hand with a lifetime of attending celebratory balls with Levana at his side, and next time, Cinder wouldn’t be there to distract him. Though admittedly, that lifetime might be cut shorter than expected. It was a morbid thought, that his premature death would at least keep him from too many painful dances.

  He sighed, his thoughts circling back to Cinder. He couldn’t avoid thinking about her these days, maybe because her name was at the top of every report, every newsfeed. The girl he’d invited to the ball. The girl he’d wanted to dance with.

  He thought of that moment, spotting her at the top of the staircase, her hair and dress drenched from the rain. Noticing that she wore the gloves he’d given her. A smile tugged at him. It probably wasn’t what Priya had in mind—the most hopeless situation of all. His relationship with Cinder, if it could even be called that, had been fleeting and bittersweet.

  Maybe if things were different. Maybe if he wasn’t marrying Levana. Maybe if he had a chance to ask Cinder the questions that plagued him: Had it all been
a deception? Had she ever considered telling him the truth?

  Maybe then he could imagine a future in which they could start again.

  But the engagement was very real, and Cinder was …

  Cinder was …

  He jerked forward, nearly crushing the leaf in his fist.

  Cinder was searching for Princess Selene. Had maybe even found her.

  That knowledge was fraught with its own questions. What were Cinder’s motives and what was she doing now? How would the people of Luna react when Princess Selene returned? What kind of person had she become? Would she even want her throne back?

  Despite the lingering doubts, he did believe that Selene was alive. He believed she was the true heir to the Lunar throne, and that she could end Levana’s reign. He believed that Cinder, who had proven to be the most resilient and resourceful person he’d ever known, actually stood a chance of finding her, and keeping her safe, and revealing her identity to the world.

  It may have been a fragile hope, but right now, it was the best hope he had.

  Twenty

  Cress awoke to a dizzying assortment of sensations. Her legs throbbed and the bottoms of her feet ached. The weight of the sand that they’d buried themselves in to keep warm pressed down on her from neck to toes. Her scalp was still tingling from its strange new lightness. Her skin felt dry and scratchy, her lips brittle.

  Thorne stirred beside her, moving slowly so as not to disturb the square of parachute material they’d draped over themselves to keep windblown sand out of their faces, though the grains in Cress’s ears and nose proved that it hadn’t been entirely effective. Every inch of her body was covered in the stuff. Sand under her fingernails. Sand at the corners of her lips. Sand in her hair and in the folds of her earlobes. Attempting to rub the dry sleep from her eyelashes proved a difficult, painstaking operation.

  “Hold still,” said Thorne, settling a palm on her arm. “The tarp may have gathered some dew. We shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

  “Dew?”

  “Water that comes up from the ground in the morning.”

  She knew what dew was, but it seemed silly to expect it in this landscape. Still, the air did seem almost damp around her, and she didn’t argue when Thorne instructed her to find the tarp’s corners and lift them up, sending whatever moisture there was down to its middle.

  What they found when they had shimmied out from beneath it was a little less than a single gulp of water, muddied from the sand that had blown up onto the fabric overnight. She described their underwhelming success to Thorne and watched disappointment crease his brow, though it soon faded with a shrug. “At least we still have plenty of water from the satellite.”

  Plenty being their last two bottles full.

  Cress looked out at the brightening horizon. After walking nearly the entire night, Cress doubted they could have slept for more than a couple of hours, and her feet felt like they would fall off with the next step. She was disheartened when she looked up at the mountains and discovered that they didn’t seem any closer now than they had the evening before.

  “How are your eyes?” she asked.

  “Well, I’ve been told they’re dreamy, but I’ll let you decide for yourself.”

  Flushing, she turned back to him. Thorne had his arms crossed over his chest and a devil-may-care grin, but there was something strained beneath it. She realized that the lightness in his tone had also rung false, covering up whatever frustrations were simmering just beneath his cavalier attitude.

  “I couldn’t disagree,” she murmured. Though she immediately wanted to crawl back beneath the parachute and hide from embarrassment, it was worth it to see Thorne’s grin become a little less forced.

  They packed up their camp, drank some water, and retied the towels around Cress’s ankles, all while the taunting morning dew steamed and disappeared around them. The temperature was already climbing. Before closing up their pack, Thorne shook out the sheets and made Cress wrap one around herself like a robe, then adjusted his own sheet to make a hooded cloak that came over his brow.

  “Is your head covered?” he asked, brushing his foot along the ground until he found the metal bar he’d been using as a cane. Cress tried her best to mimic the way he’d covered himself before confirming that it was. “Good. Your skin is going to crisp up like bacon soon enough. This will help for a little while at least.”

  She fidgeted with the cumbersome sheet while trying to guide Thorne up the slope they’d camped on. She was still exhausted and half numb from walking. Every limb throbbed.

  They hadn’t traversed four dunes before Cress stumbled, landing on her knees. Thorne dug his heels into the ground for purchase. “Cress?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, pulling herself up and rubbing the sand from her shins. “Just a little drained. I’m not used to all this exercise.”

  Thorne’s hands were hanging in midair, like he’d meant to help pull her to her feet, but she noticed it too late. Slowly, they sank to his sides. “Can you keep going?”

  “Yes. I just need to get into a rhythm again.” She hoped it was true and that her legs wouldn’t be loose cables all day long.

  “We’ll walk until it gets too hot, then rest. We don’t want to exert ourselves too much, especially under full sun.”

  Cress started down the dune again, counting their steps to bide the time.

  Ten steps.

  Twenty-five.

  Fifty.

  The sand grew hot, singeing the soles of her feet through the towels. The sun climbed.

  Her imagination circled through her favorite fantasies, anything to keep herself distracted. She was a shipwrecked pirate from the second era. She was an athlete training for a cross-country journey. She was an android, who had no sense of exhaustion, who could march on and on and on.…

  But the dreams became more and more fleeting, reality pushing them aside with pain and discomfort and thirst.

  She began to hope that Thorne would let them stop and relax, but he didn’t. They trudged on. Thorne was right about the sheets, which kept the merciless sun from scorching her, and she became grateful for the dampness of her own sweat keeping her cool. She began counting again as sweat dripped down the backs of her knees, and though she felt awful for thinking it, part of her was glad Thorne couldn’t see her in this state.

  Not that he was immune to the trials of the desert. His face was red, his hair messed from rubbing against his makeshift hood, and dirt streaked down his cheeks where there was a shadow of facial hair.

  As it grew hotter, Thorne encouraged Cress to finish off the water they’d opened in the morning, which she drank with relish, only afterward realizing that Thorne hadn’t taken any for himself. She was still thirsty, but the day was stretching on in front of them and they had only one more bottle. Though Thorne had told her they shouldn’t ration it, she couldn’t bring herself to ask for more if he wasn’t drinking also.

  She began to sing to herself to pass the time, humming all the pretty songs she could recall from her music collection on the satellite. She let the familiar melodies distract her. Walking became easier for a time.

  “That one’s pretty.”

  She paused, and it took a moment for her to realize Thorne was talking about the song she was singing, and it took another moment for her to remember which one it had been. “Thank you,” she said uncertainly. She’d never sang in front of anyone—never been complimented on it. “It’s a popular lullaby on Luna. I used to think that I’d been named for it, before I realized what a common name ‘Crescent’ is.” She sang through the first verse again. “Sweet crescent moon, up in the sky. You sing your song so sweetly after sunshine passes by.…”

  When she glanced back at Thorne, he had a faint smile on his lips. “Your mom sang you a lot of lullabies?”

  “Oh, no. They can tell you’re a shell right when you’re born, so I was only a few days when my parents gave me up to be killed. I don’t remember them at all.”

  His
smile disappeared, and after a long silence, he said, “You probably shouldn’t be singing, now that I think of it. You’ll lose moisture through your mouth.”

  “Oh.” Pressing her lips tight together, Cress placed her fingertips against Thorne’s arm, the signal that had come to mean they were starting down a slope, and slogged on. Her skin had been scraped raw by the heat, despite the shelter of her makeshift robe, but she was propelled on by the thought that it was nearly midday. And while midday would bring about the highest temperatures yet, Thorne had also promised a respite from walking.

  “All right,” Thorne finally said, as if the words were being dragged up from his throat. “That’s enough. Let’s rest until the temperature goes down again.”

  Cress groaned with relief. She would have kept walking all day if he had asked it of her, but how glad she was that he hadn’t.

  “Do you see any shade at all? Or someplace that looks like it might be shaded when the sun starts going down?”

  Cress squinted across the dunes. Though there was some shade over the occasional hillock, at high noon it was almost nonexistent. Still, they were coming up on a big hill that would soon cast some shadows—it was the best they could do.

  “This way,” she said, spurred on by the promise of rest.

  But as they crested one more dune, her eye caught on something in the distance. She gasped, grabbing Thorne’s arm.

  “What is it?”

  She gaped at the glorious sight, struggling to find words to describe it. Blue and green, a stark contrast against the orange desert sand. “Water. And … and trees!”

  “An oasis?”

  “Yes! It must be!”

  Relief spilled over her. She began to tremble with the promise of shade, water, rest.

  “Come on—it isn’t far,” she said, plowing through the sand with renewed energy.

  “Cress. Cress, wait! Reserve your energy.”

  “But we’re almost there.”

  “Cress!”

  She barely heard him. Already she could imagine the cool water slipping down her throat. The breeze beneath a palm’s canopy. Maybe there would be food, some strange tropical Earthen food she’d never tasted, that would be juicy and crisp and refreshing …