Winter

by Marissa Meyer

  He bowed his head to hide his despair, though the show of respect nearly killed him.

  “I will. My Queen.”

  Twenty-Six

  For the first time since she had abandoned it, Cress found herself missing her satellite. Jacin’s private quarters were smaller than her satellite had been. The walls were so thin that she dared not even sing to pass the time. And when she needed to use the facilities, she had to wait for Jacin to get off his shift so he could sneak her in and out of the washroom that was shared between the guards and their families, all of whom lived in this underground wing of the palace. Once she crossed paths with another person, and while it was only a guard’s wife who smiled kindly at her without any sign of suspicion, the encounter left Cress shaken.

  She sensed the queen and her court all around her. She was aware at every moment that one person recognizing her for a shell would mean death. Perhaps torture and interrogation first. She was sick with anxiety for her own safety and terrified for the fate of her friends. She was frustrated that Jacin never had any news about them.

  She told herself this was a good sign. Jacin would know if they’d been found. Wouldn’t he?

  Cress distracted herself doing what she could to help Cinder’s cause with the limited resources available to her in Jacin’s quarters. She still had her portscreen, and though she dared not send any comms, knowing how easily they could be traced, she was able to connect to the queen’s broadcasting system via the holograph node embedded in Jacin’s wall. The nodes were everywhere on Luna—as common as netscreens on Earth, and the feeds as easily hacked. She still had Cinder’s prerecorded video stored in her port but she was afraid to do anything with it without knowing whether Cinder and the others were ready. Instead she spent her time interrupting propaganda messages from the queen and trying to come up with some way she could indicate to her friends that she was alive and relatively safe. She could never think of anything that wasn’t either too obvious or too obscure though, and she was too timid to do anything that could alert the queen to her presence.

  She wished again and again that she had access to the same technology she’d had in the satellite. She felt more cut off from the world than she ever had—with no media to view but that approved by the crown. No way to send a direct communication. No access to Luna’s surveillance network or security systems and, hence, no way to fulfill the duties Cinder had given her. As the hours merged into days, she grew more anxious and addled, itching to get out of this enclosed space and do something.

  She was altering the soundtrack from a royal message about their “brave victories against the weak-minded Earthens,” when hard-soled footsteps in the hall made her pause.

  They stopped outside Jacin’s door. Cress disconnected her portscreen, threw herself off Jacin’s cot, and scurried underneath it, pressing herself as close to the wall as possible. Outside, she heard the input of a code and fingerprint check on the lock. The door opened and shut.

  She held her breath.

  “Just me,” came Jacin’s voice, sounding as disillusioned as ever.

  Exhaling, Cress crawled out from her hiding spot. She stayed on the floor, her back pressed against the cot’s side. The cot was the only place to sit in this tiny room and she felt guilty taking it from Jacin—although she couldn’t recall him ever sitting in her presence. He had even slept on the floor since her arrival, without any discussion of it.

  “Any news?” she asked.

  Jacin leaned against the door, his shadowed eyes caught on the ceiling. He seemed strangely disheveled. “No.”

  Cress pulled her knees into her chest. “What’s wrong?”

  Still entranced by the ceiling, he muttered, “You disabled the cameras in the dock.”

  She blinked.

  “Could you do it again? To any cameras in the palace?”

  She reached for her hair. The habit of fidgeting with it was hard to break, though it had been short for weeks now. “If I had access to the system. Which I don’t.”

  He opened his mouth, paused, shut it again.

  Cress frowned. Jacin was rarely chatty, but this was unusual even for him.

  Finally, he said, “I could get you access to the system.”

  “Why are we disabling cameras?”

  His chest rose and his focus traveled down the bare stone walls and landed on Cress. “You’re leaving. You, Winter, and that redhead girl are leaving the palace. Tonight.”

  Cress hauled herself to her feet. “What?”

  “Winter can’t stay here, and she won’t leave without that friend of hers. You help me get them out of here, and it’s your ticket too.” He started to massage his temple. “You know where Cinder was heading, right? You can find her. She’ll keep Winter safe. She better keep her safe.”

  Suspicion crawled up her spine at the mention of Cinder. Was this a trick? Was he trying to get information from her to be sold to the queen for his own gains? He’d done it before.

  “It will look suspicious if a bunch of camera feeds go down at once,” she said.

  He nodded. “I know, but hopefully you’ll be gone before anyone notices.”

  She gnawed on her lip. She could put them on a timer, try to make the blackouts seem like random power failures or a system glitch, but even that had the potential for being discovered.

  Jacin had started to pace. She could see his thoughts churning. A plot was forming in his head, though she couldn’t begin to guess how he planned to sneak them out of the palace without anyone seeing them—especially when Princess Winter was so recognizable.

  “What happened?” said Cress. “Did Levana find out about me?”

  “No. It was something else.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose now. “She’s going to have Winter killed. I have to get her out of here. I think I know a way. I can set it up, but…” His eyes turned pleading. “Will you help me?”

  Cress’s heart squeezed. In the little time she’d known Jacin, he had struck her as cold, heartless, even cruel at times. But now he was fringed at the edges, ready to tear apart.

  “By disabling the cameras?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  She looked at her portscreen. Though she’d detached it from the holograph node when she scuttled beneath the cot, the connector cable was still dangling from its side. This was her chance. She could get away from the palace, away from this city and all its dangers. She could be with her friends again. She could be safe, tonight.

  The temptation engulfed her. She had to get out of here.

  But when she turned her face up toward Jacin again, she was shaking her head.

  Bewilderment flashed across his face.

  “It will be safest for the princess and Scarlet if”—she swallowed, but her saliva stuck in her throat—“if I stay behind.”

  “What?”

  “Our best chance for the tampering to go unnoticed will be if I operate the system failure manually. I can turn the cameras off for short bursts, make them look like random power outages. A full blackout would draw too much attention, and blacking out just a portion of them would give the queen a clue as to which way Winter and Scarlet went. But if I disable and restart random sections of the surveillance system at the same time … I can make it look like a coincidence.” She tapped a finger against her lower lip. “I could set up a distraction too. Maybe an alarm in another part of the palace, to draw people away from them. And all the door locks in the major thoroughfares can be altered remotely too.”

  She was growing confident in her decision. She would stay behind to give Winter and Scarlet the best chance for escape.

  “You’re insane,” said Jacin. “Do you want to die in this palace?”

  She stiffened. “Levana doesn’t know I’m here. As long as you keep me hidden…”

  “As soon as Levana learns I let Winter go, she’ll kill me.”

  She clenched her fists, annoyed that he was punching holes in her newfound courage. “Scarlet was captured during an attempt to rescu
e me. And Winter protected me, even though she didn’t have to, and I know it put her in a lot of danger. This is how I can repay them both.”

  Jacin stared and she could see the moment he accepted her decision. It was their best chance and he had to know it. He turned away, his shoulders starting to fall. “I was Sybil’s pilot for over a year,” he said. “I knew about you for over a year, and I did nothing to help you.”

  His confession stabbed her in the chest. She’d always thought Sybil had come alone, never realizing she had a pilot with her until it was too late. Maybe Jacin could have helped her, even rescued her.

  They would never know.

  He didn’t apologize. Instead, he set his jaw and met her eye again. “I will protect Winter with my life. Second only to her, I promise to protect you too.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Scarlet was working on this new thing she liked to call not reacting.

  It was a skill that by no means came to her naturally. But when she was the one locked inside a cage and her enemy was the one on the outside, jabbering and giggling and generally being buffoons, not reacting seemed like a better habit than screaming obscenities and trying to smack them through the bars.

  At least it carried a bit more dignity.

  “Can’t you get her to do a trick?” asked the Lunar woman, holding an umbrella of owl feathers over one shoulder, though Scarlet couldn’t guess what she was protecting herself from. According to Winter, they had another six days to go before they saw real sunshine again, and there was no rain on Luna at all.

  The woman’s companion leaned over, resting his hands on his knees, and peered at Scarlet through the bars. He was wearing orange sunglasses. Again, Scarlet didn’t know why.

  Scarlet, cross-legged on the ground, her hands folded and her hood pulled up past her ears, peered back.

  I am a vision of tranquility and indifference.

  “Do something,” he ordered.

  Scarlet blinked.

  He glared at her. “Everyone says Earthens are supposed to be cute and amusing. Why don’t you do a dance for us?”

  Her insides writhed, wanting more than anything to show this man how cute and amusing she could be. Outside, however, she was statuesque.

  “Are you mute, or just stupid? Don’t they teach you how to address your betters down on that rock?”

  I am the essence of peace and calm.

  “What’s wrong with her hand?” said the woman.

  The man glanced down. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

  Her fingers didn’t so much as twitch. Not even the half-missing one.

  The woman yawned. “I’m bored and Earthens smell bad. Let’s go look at the lions.”

  The man straightened, arms akimbo. Scarlet could see him calculating something in his tiny head. She didn’t think he would try to use his gift on her—no one had manipulated her since she’d been brought to the menagerie and she was beginning to suspect her status as one of the princess’s pets was protecting her from that torture, at least.

  He took a step forward. Behind him, Ryu growled.

  It was a test of willpower for Scarlet to smother a grin. That wolf had really grown on her lately.

  Though the woman glanced back at the wolf’s enclosure, the man kept his attention pinned on Scarlet. “You’re here to entertain us,” he said, “so do something. Sing a song. Tell a joke. Something.”

  For my next trick, I will win a staring contest with the moron in orange sunglasses.

  Snarling, the man grabbed the umbrella from his girlfriend and closed it. Holding on to the curved handle, he pushed the pointy end through the bars and jabbed Scarlet in the shoulder.

  Ryu barked.

  Scarlet’s hand whipped upward, her fist wrapping around the feathered fabric. She yanked it toward her and the man stumbled against the cage. She shoved the umbrella’s handle up toward his face. He screamed and reeled back, his glasses clattering to the ground. Blood spurted from his nose.

  Scarlet smirked long enough to shove the umbrella out onto the path—there was no point keeping it, as the guards would just take it away. She stifled her smug expression and returned her face to neutral.

  This not-reacting thing was working out better than she’d expected.

  After cursing and screaming and getting blood all over his shirt, the man grabbed his girlfriend and the umbrella and stormed away, back toward the menagerie’s entrance. They were probably going to rat her out to the guards. She would probably miss a meal or two for her misbehavior.

  It was totally worth it.

  She met Ryu’s yellow gaze across the way and winked. In response, the wolf raised his nose and howled, a short, joyful sound.

  “You’ve made a friend.”

  She started. A guard was leaning against a large-leafed tree, arms crossed and eyes steely. He wasn’t one of her normal guards, though there was an air of familiarity to him. She wondered how long he’d been standing there.

  “We animals have to stick together,” she said, but then resolved that was as much as he would get out of her. She was not here to entertain the spoiled Lunar aristocrats, and she was certainly not going to entertain one of the queen’s brainless minions.

  “Guess it makes sense you’d like that one. He’s related to your boyfriend.”

  Her heart thumped. A sense of foreboding stirred in her chest.

  Pushing himself off the tree, the guard strolled in front of Ryu’s enclosure. One hand was resting at his belt, on the hilt of a large knife. The wolf froze, standing on all fours like he hadn’t decided whether to trust this stranger or not.

  “This one’s father was the wolf they first gathered DNA from when they started experimenting with the soldiers. The queen’s prized arctic wolf. Once an alpha male.” He turned to Scarlet. “But you need a pack to be an alpha, don’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she deadpanned.

  “Take my word for it.” He listed his head, inspecting her. “You don’t know who I am.”

  He said it at the same moment her memory clicked. The blond hair, the uniform, his creepy knowledge of Wolf.

  Her recognition only made her more wary.

  “Sure I do. I can’t get the princess to shut up about you.”

  She watched him carefully, curious if Winter’s feelings were even half mutual, but he gave nothing away.

  He was handsome, sure enough. Broad shouldered and chisel jawed. But he wasn’t what she’d been expecting. His posture spoke of condescension, his expression disinterest. He was all brambles and icicles as he strode toward her cage.

  He was about as opposite of warm, spacey, babbling Winter as she could imagine.

  Jacin didn’t crouch or bend down and it was a strain on Scarlet’s neck to look up at him. Her dislike increased.

  “I trust she told you about your friends.”

  Winter had told her they were alive. That they were coming for her. That Wolf missed her very much.

  Now, meeting the infamous Jacin, she couldn’t envision him being the one to make that report.

  “I got the message.”

  Scarlet wondered if he expected a thank-you, which he wasn’t going to get, given that he was here on Luna, wearing that uniform. Whose side was he on?

  Scarlet huffed and leaned back on her elbows. It may not have been as dignified, but she wasn’t about to let this guy intimidate her into a permanent neck ache. “Is there something you needed?”

  “Winter thinks you’re a friend.”

  “That makes one of us.”

  After a beat, he revealed a crack in his armor. The tiniest of smiles.

  “What?” she asked.

  Rocking back on his heels, Jacin rested his hand on the knife again. “I wasn’t sure what kind of girl could make a special op go ballistic over her. I’m glad to see it’s not the stupid kind.”

  She curled her hands into fists. “Also not the kind that buys into empty flattery.”

  Wrapping a hand around one of the bars, Jac
in finally crouched so they were at eye level. “You know why you’re still alive?”

  She gritted her teeth and answered, somewhat begrudgingly, “Because of Winter.”

  “That’s right, firework. Try not to forget it.”

  “It’s hard to forget when I’m locked up in her cage, sunshine.”

  The corner of his mouth crinkled with restrained amusement, but it vanished just as fast. Unnerving. He nudged his chin toward her hand. “When was the last time someone checked that for infection?”

  “I know what infection looks like.” She resisted the urge to hide her wounded finger, but there was no way she was showing this guy her finger stub. “It’s fine.”

  He made a noncommittal sound. “They say you’re a decent pilot.”

  She scowled. “What is this, a job interview?”

  “Have you ever flown a Lunar ship before?”

  For the first time, he had her full attention, but her curiosity was crowded with suspicion.

  “Why?”

  “They’re not much different from Earthen ships. Little different layout of the flight controls, smoother liftoff generally. I think you could figure it out.”

  “And why would it matter if I can fly a Lunar ship?”

  His gaze cut through her, saying more than his words. He stood. “Just be ready.”

  “Be ready for what? And why do you care about me, anyway?”

  “I don’t,” he said, so casual Scarlet had to believe him. “But I do care about the princess, and she could use an ally.” He looked away. “A better ally than me.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Winter’s heart fluttered as she pushed open the massive glass door to the menagerie. Sounds of wildlife spilled into the corridor—squawking birds in their palatial cages, monkeys chattering from overhead vines, white stallions neighing in distant stables.

  She shut the door before the heat could escape and scanned the forked pathways, but there was no sign of Jacin. The menagerie took up several acres of this wing of the palace, a labyrinth of barred cages and glass enclosures. It was always humid and perfumed with exotic flowers, an aroma that barely covered up the animal scent.