Winter

by Marissa Meyer

  “Y-yes, of course. Right this way.”

  Scarlet released him and shot Winter a cool glare, gesturing for her to hide her face again. The man’s stride was stiff as he led them past hovering cargo platforms and crates on complicated tracks. Scratching his neck with his free hand, he glanced twice over his shoulder.

  “Is something wrong?” said Scarlet, steel in her tone.

  “N-no. I’m sorry.”

  “Then stop looking at her.”

  He opened his mouth and Scarlet thought he wanted to mention the blood or the grime or Winter’s very existence, but then he shut it again and kept his head down.

  Some of the alcoves they passed had heavy metal doors over them, but most were open, showing docked ships within.

  “See?” Winter whispered. “Mushrooms, and the shadows that dance.”

  Scarlet followed her gesture. The spacecrafts’ shadows on the walls did look something like dancing mushrooms. Sort of. If she tilted her head and squinted just right.

  “Bay 22, Your Highness.”

  Scarlet glanced at the number over the arched door and the podship enclosed within. It was a two-person carrier, inset with the gold insignia of the royal court.

  “Thank you,” said Scarlet. “That will be all.”

  The man’s eyebrows stitched together. “Will … will you need an escort back?”

  Scarlet shook her head and linked her elbow with Winter’s again, but had only taken two steps when she paused. “Tell no one you saw us,” she told the man. “But if someone asks, tell them we glamoured you into helping us. Understand?”

  His round eyes fell on Winter, who smiled warmly. His blush deepened.

  “I’m not so sure you didn’t,” he muttered.

  Rolling her eyes, Scarlet hauled the princess toward the ship. She checked that the man was gone before she opened the pilot’s side door and nudged Winter inside. “All the way over, unless you plan on flying this thing.”

  Winter complied without question. Scarlet removed the knife from her waistband and settled it between them. She shut the door and the noise of the docks silenced in the vacuum-sealed ship.

  Scarlet exhaled, willing her hands to stop shaking. Willing the mess of controls in front of her to come into focus. She examined the cockpit, noting what was similar to the delivery ship she’d flown since she was fifteen and what was different.

  “I can do this,” she whispered, pressing her fingers against the main screen. It brightened. The controls lit up.

  SECURITY CLEARANCE UNDETERMINED

  She stared at the message. She had to read it four times before the meaning of the words sank in. She half expected their phantom helper to override the ship’s security and start the engines for her too. When nothing happened, she remembered the cylinder Jacin had given her. She fished it from her pocket and popped off its cap, holding her breath as she jammed it into the corresponding security port.

  An icon whirled over the message.

  And whirled.

  And whirled.

  Her stomach tightened. A drop of sweat slid down the back of her neck.

  CLEARANCE GRANTED. WELCOME, ROYAL GUARD JACIN CLAY.

  Scarlet whooped, dizzy with relief. She jogged a few switches. The engine hummed and the ship lifted up on the magnetic force beneath the ports, steady and sure. Outside their alcove, a series of cargo ships were making their way toward the sealed chamber that separated Artemisia’s Port E from the emptiness of space. They could slip in right behind them and no one would stop a royal ship, no one would even question—

  “Wait,” said Winter as Scarlet nudged the podship forward.

  Scarlet’s heart dropped. “What?” she said, scanning the port for a thaumaturge, a guard, a threat.

  Winter reached over and pulled the pilot’s harness over Scarlet’s head. “Safety first, Scarlet-friend. We are fragile things.”

  Thirty-One

  Winter was mesmerized by Scarlet’s confident hands as they skimmed over the ship’s controls. Behind the ship, enormous iron doors slammed shut, locking them in a vacuum-sealed chamber with a dozen other ships waiting to be released from Artemisia’s underground port. Tearing her attention away from Scarlet and the twinkling instruments, Winter glanced over her shoulder at the interlocking doors—so ancient they looked almost like they had existed on the moon even before colonization.

  Now they divided her from the ports, the city, the palace.

  And Jacin.

  Scarlet was all nerves, tapping her fingers across the instruments. “How long is this going to take?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve only ever left Artemisia on the maglev rails.”

  “They just have to seal a couple doors, right?” Scarlet reached overhead and toggled a few switches. The lights inside the ship faded to black. “This would be a bad time for someone to look over and recognize you. They’d probably think I was kidnapping you.”

  “You are, in a manner.”

  “No. I’m saving you from your psychotic stepmother. There’s a difference.”

  Winter pulled her attention away from the doors and scanned the nearby ships. Most seemed to be cargo ships. She wondered how many were taking supplies for the war efforts on Earth or carrying more of the queen’s soldiers. Still, most would be headed to the outer sectors for deliveries or to load up on goods to be brought back to the capital. It was much faster to fly than to take the maglev shuttles halfway around the moon.

  “Are we going to Earth?”

  Scarlet’s frown deepened. “Jacin said this ship wouldn’t make it that far. He said to go to Sector RM-9.”

  Jacin. Brave Jacin. Always protecting her.

  She’d abandoned him.

  Scarlet tugged on one of the drawstrings of her hoodie, the end frayed and dirty. “Jacin said this sector we’re going to is where Wolf grew up. His family might still be there.”

  Winter trailed her fingers along her harness and sang to herself, “The Earth is full tonight, tonight, and the wolves all howl, aa-ooooooooooh…”

  “We need an ally. Someone we can trust. Maybe I can persuade Wolf’s parents to shelter us. Hide us, until we come up with a better plan, and in the name of all the stars, what is taking so long?”

  Winter blinked at her. “Aa-ooooh?”

  Scarlet huffed. “Would you focus? We need to find someplace we can hide from the queen.”

  “She will find us anywhere. We will not be safe.”

  “Don’t say that. The people like you, don’t they? They’ll protect you. Us.”

  “I do not wish to put them in danger.”

  “You need to get over that mode of thinking right now. This is us against her, Winter. From now on, I need you to think like a survivalist.”

  Winter took in a shuddering breath, jealous of the embers that burned inside Scarlet. She felt hollow and cold on the inside. Easily shattered.

  Scarlet popped one of her sweatshirt’s drawstrings into her mouth and gnawed on the plastic end. “RM-9,” she muttered to herself. “What does RM-9 mean?”

  “Regolith Mining Sector 9. That is a dangerous sector.”

  “Dangerous? Dangerous how?”

  “Regolith sickness. Many deaths.”

  Scarlet’s mouth quirked. “Sounds like the sort of place Levana wouldn’t look for you.” Scarlet clicked on a screen and opened up a map. “Perfect.”

  The second set of massive doors began to slide apart, disappearing into the black cavern walls. Faint light spilled in.

  “Scarlet?”

  “What?” Scarlet looked up and gasped. “Finally.”

  As the gap between the doors grew, Winter saw they were in a cave built into the side of a crater. Beyond its rim lay the rocky wasteland of Luna, its jagged rocks and pockmarked surface as unwelcoming as a black hole.

  “Jacin saved us both,” she whispered, her chest aching.

  Scarlet harrumphed and guided the ship forward, falling in line with the others. Ahead, the boosters on the ships nearest t
he exit flamed and thrust them into space. “He could have been a little more forthcoming with information. But, yeah. Remind me to thank him someday.”

  “Levana will kill him.” She looked down. There was dried blood beneath her fingernails, smearing her dress, drenching her slippers. She blinked, and the bloodstains began to seep through the fabric, spreading.

  Winter let out a weak breath. It’s not real, Princess.

  “I’m sure he stayed behind for a reason,” said Scarlet. “He must have a plan.”

  Their ship reached the front of the line and the whole galaxy opened up before them. A bold smile curled on Scarlet’s lips. “Here we go.”

  As Scarlet’s fingers flew over the controls and the podship hummed around them, Winter glanced back one last time. There was a jerk. Her stomach flipped and then they were soaring out of the holding bay and Scarlet was laughing and the crystal dome that housed Artemisia was beneath them and growing smaller and smaller and …

  Winter sobbed and pressed a hand to her mouth.

  “Hey, hey, none of that,” said Scarlet, not bothering to hide her own effusive joy. “We made it, Winter, and I’m sure Jacin will be fine. He seems tough.”

  Winter’s neck began to ache from being twisted in her seat, but she didn’t want to tear her gaze away from Artemisia, not even as the palace and the buildings blurred together and the lights twinkled and went out, invisible beneath the dome’s surface.

  “She will kill him.”

  “I know you’re worried, but look. We are out of that star-forsaken city. We’re alive and we’re free, so stop moping.”

  Winter rested her cheek against her chair’s back. More tears were threatening to escape, but she held them back, focusing instead on her ragged breaths.

  After a long silence, she felt a hand settle over hers.

  “I’m sorry,” said Scarlet. “That wasn’t fair. I know you like him.”

  Winter swallowed. “I love him like I love my own platelet-manufacturing plant.”

  “Your own what?”

  “I don’t know. My heart, I think. My body. I love him, every part of him.”

  “Fine, you love him. But, Winter, he seemed to know what he was doing.”

  “Protecting me,” Winter whispered. “He’s always protecting me.” She was startled by the unexpected scent of blood invading her lungs. She looked down and gasped.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  Winter held the fabric of her dress away from her stomach. The blood had soaked the shimmering white material, turning it dark red. Even the cloth they’d taken from the servant was covered. The stench was so thick she could taste it.

  “Winter?”

  “It—it’s nothing,” she stammered, trying to imagine it away. The blood dripped down her legs.

  “You’re hallucinating, aren’t you?”

  Winter leaned back against the seat. She wrapped her fingers around the straps of her harness. It’s all in your head, Princess. It isn’t real. “I’m fine. It will go away soon.”

  “Honestly,” Scarlet snapped, “why don’t you just use your glamour? Why let it drive you crazy like this?”

  “I won’t.” Winter choked down another difficult breath.

  “I get that, but why?”

  “It is a cruel gift. I wish I hadn’t been born with it.”

  “Well, you were born with it. Look at you, Winter. You’re a mess. Why don’t you just—I don’t know—make me think your hair is orange or something? Something harmless?”

  “It’s never harmless.” The harness constricted. Her fingernails clawed at the straps.

  “If I had the gift,” continued Scarlet, ignorant of the harness’s choking hold, the gushing blood, “I would have shown those snotty imbeciles a thing or two. See how they like being asked to do tricks.”

  Winter’s hands were wet and slick and sticky.

  “My grandfather was Lunar,” said Scarlet. “I never met him, but I do know he died in an insane asylum. I have to assume because he made the same choice you’re making now. He was down on Earth and trying to hide what he was, so maybe he had a reason. But you? Why do this to yourself? How does it make anything better?”

  “It does not make anything worse.”

  “It makes you worse. Why can’t you just … do good things with it?”

  Winter laughed against the strain of the delusion. “They all believe they are doing good.” Her head fell to the side and she watched Scarlet with her bleary eyes. “My stepmother is not only powerful because the people fear her, she is powerful because she can make them love her when she needs them to. We think that if we choose to do only good, then we are only good. We can make people happy. We can offer tranquility or contentment or love, and that must be good. We do not see the falsehood becoming its own brand of cruelty.”

  The ship trembled and their speed increased. Luna blurred beneath them.

  “Once,” Winter continued, pushing the words out of her lungs. “Once I believed with all my heart that I was doing good. But I was wrong.”

  Scarlet’s gaze darted to her, then back to the landscape. “What happened?”

  “There was a servant who tried to kill herself. I stopped her. I forced her to change her mind. I made her happy. I was so sure I was helping her.” Her breaths came in strangled gasps, but she kept talking, hoping to push through the hallucination if she ignored it enough. “But all I did was give her more time to be tortured by Aimery. He was quite fond of her, you see.”

  Scarlet went quiet, but Winter dared not look at her.

  “The next time she tried to take her life, she succeeded. Only then did I realize that I hadn’t helped her at all.” She swallowed, hard. “That day I swore to never manipulate anyone again. Even if I believed I was doing good—for who am I to presume what is good for others?”

  The harness tightened again, pressing against Winter’s sternum, cutting against her ribs. The blood was spilling over it now. Soon it would be sloshing around her ankles. The harness would cut right through her, chopping her into girl-shaped pieces. Razor wire slicing through her flesh.

  Winter shut her eyes.

  Stay with me, Princess.

  After a suffocating silence, Scarlet murmured, “It just seems like there should be a way to manage it, without … this.”

  The harness tightened, forcing the air out of her lungs. With a whimper, she tilted her head back to avoid it pressing against her windpipe.

  “What—Winter?”

  Stars danced behind her eyelids. Her lungs burned. Blood dripped off the curls of her hair and soaked into the harness straps. She stopped fighting it and let her body slump forward. The straps crushed her sternum, snapped her ribs.

  Scarlet cursed, but the sound was distant and muffled.

  Hands thumped against her like mittened fingers, leaning her back against the seat and feeling her throat. She heard her name but it was far away, trying to reach her across a whole sea of stars and everything was fading fast …

  There was a series of loud clicks and the whir of the harness being reeled into the ship’s roof.

  Winter collapsed into Scarlet’s arms, both of them crumpled over the center console. Scarlet struggled to lift Winter’s head and open her air passage while keeping the ship from colliding with Luna’s jagged terrain.

  Air rushed back into Winter’s lungs. She gasped, swallowing it down hungrily. Her throat was still stinging, but the aches in her chest were fading into the lost depths of the hallucination. She coughed and forced her eyes open. The blood had receded, and now only the remnants of Ryu’s death were left, dried and smeared on her skirt.

  “Are you all right?” Scarlet cried, half hysterical.

  Winter met her bewildered face, still dizzy from the loss of air, and whispered, “The harness tried to kill me.”

  Dragging a hand through her hair, Scarlet fell back into the pilot’s seat. Through the window, half a dozen distant domes were growing larger—a slow growth, giving way to the subtle
impression of buildings underneath.

  “The harness didn’t do anything,” Scarlet growled. “It’s your brain that’s the problem.”

  Winter started to giggle, but it was cut short by sobs. “Y-you’re right,” she stammered, hearing Jacin’s voice in her head.

  Stay with me, Princess. Stay with me—

  But she was already so far away.

  * * *

  “My Queen, we have been experiencing minor glitches in the surveillance system. Random power failures that have been occurring throughout the palace.”

  Levana stood before the grand windows of her solar, listening to the third-tier thaumaturge present his daily report, though she was lacking her usual focus. Her thoughts were a maze of distractions. Despite using every resource available to her and demanding that her security team review hours and hours of footage from the outer sectors, Linh Cinder and her companions had yet to be found. Wedding preparations were underway, but she had been too livid to even look at her husband-to-be since he’d arrived.

  Now she had Winter to concern herself with. The ungrateful wretch of a princess had been nothing but an embarrassment to her since the day Levana had married her father. If Jacin succeeded, she would never again have to listen to her mindless mutterings. She would never again have to defend her from the mocking laughter of the court. She would never again have to see the looks of desire following the doltish girl down the palace corridors.

  Levana wanted the princess gone. She wished to let go of the resentment that had plagued her for so long. Her life was beginning anew, finally, and she deserved this fresh beginning without the cumbersome girl dragging her down, reminding her of a too-painful past.

  But if Jacin failed …

  Levana couldn’t stomach another failure.

  “My Queen?”

  She turned to the thaumaturge. “Yes?”

  “The technicians need to know how you would like them to proceed. They estimate an hour or two will be required to locate the source of these system glitches and restore the defaults. They might need to disable portions of the system while they’re working on it.”

  “Will this take them away from the search for the cyborg?”