Winter

by Marissa Meyer

  A voice dropped down from some hidden speakers. “All rise for Her Royal Majesty, Queen Levana Blackburn of Luna.”

  The people rose.

  Kai clasped his shaking hands behind his back.

  She appeared as a silhouette first in the lights of the doors, a perfect hourglass dropping off to a full billowing skirt that flowed behind her. She walked with her head high, gliding toward the altar. The dress was scarlet red, rich as blood, with dainty gold chains draped around her shoulders. It reminded Kai of a bloodred poppy, the petals full and drooping. A sheer gold veil covered her face and billowed like a sail as she walked.

  When she was close enough, Kai could make out hints of her face through the veil. Her lips had been painted to match the dress and her eyes burned with victory. She strode onto the dais and paused at Kai’s side. The skirt’s hem pooled at her feet.

  “You may be seated,” said the disembodied voice.

  The crowd shuffled into their seats. Prime Minister Kamin lifted her portscreen from the altar. “Ladies and gentlemen, Lunars and Earthens,” she began, a hidden microphone carrying her voice over the crowd. “We gather today to witness a historical union of Earth and Luna—an alliance formed by trust and mutual respect. This is a significant moment in our history that will forever symbolize the enduring relationship of the people of Luna and the people of Earth.”

  She paused to let her words sink into the crowd. Kai wanted to gag.

  The prime minister focused on the bride and groom. “We are here to witness the marriage of Emperor Kaito of the Eastern Commonwealth and Queen Levana Blackburn of Luna.”

  Kai met Levana’s gaze through her veil. Her taunting smile chased all his denial away.

  Cinder was captured or dead. The wedding would go on as planned; the coronation would take place in two days’ time.

  It was just him, now. The last line of defense between Levana and Earth.

  So be it.

  He set his jaw and returned his focus to their officiant. He gave a small nod. The wedding began.

  Forty-Seven

  “The groom will now take his ribbon and tie it three times around his bride’s left wrist, symbolizing the love, honor, and respect that will forever bind their matrimony,” said Prime Minister Kamin, unwinding a length of velvet ribbon from a spool. She picked up the polished silver scissors from the tray and snipped off the length of ribbon.

  Kai tried not to make a face as Kamin laid the ribbon across his palms. It was shimmering and ivory, the color of the full moon, as opposed to the silky blue ribbon already wrapped around his own wrist, the color of Earth.

  It felt like his consciousness was hovering above him, watching as his fingers wrapped the ribbon around Levana’s bone-thin wrist—once, twice, three times—finishing it off with a simple knot. There was no grace to it and the ribbon was probably too loose, a side effect of his unwillingness to brush her skin with his fingertips. When she had tied his, she had practically given him a wrist massage that had made him squirm on the inside.

  “I will now knot the two ribbons together,” said Prime Minister Kamin, in her measured, serene voice. She had not faltered once during the ceremony. “This is to symbolize the unity of the bride and groom and also of Luna and the Eastern Commonwealth, which represents the planet of Earth on this, the eighth day of November in the 126th year of the third era.” She took the ends of each ribbon between her fingers.

  Kai watched with detached interest as her dark, slender fingers knotted the two ribbons together. She yanked on the ends, tightening the knot. Kai stared at it, feeling the disconnect in his mind.

  He was not here.

  This was not happening.

  His hateful gaze betrayed him, flickering toward Levana’s face. It was the briefest of looks, but she somehow managed to catch it. She smiled, and icicles stabbed at his spine.

  This was happening. This was his bride.

  Levana’s lips twitched behind her veil. He could hear her voice, though she didn’t open her lips, accusing him of an endearing, bashful crush, chastising his youth and innocence at such a moment. He couldn’t tell if the voice was his own taunting imagination or something she was injecting into his thoughts.

  And he would never know.

  He was marrying a woman who would forever hold this power over him.

  How different she was from Cinder. Selene. Her niece, though it didn’t seem possible the two had anything in common, especially their ancestry.

  Thinking of Cinder brought back the painful memory of the cyborg finger on a bed of silk and Kai shuddered.

  The officiant paused, but Kai was already reconfiguring his expression. He let out a steady breath and gave her a subtle nod to continue.

  Kamin reached for her portscreen, and Kai grasped at the momentary pause, trying to compose himself. He thought of the mutants murdering innocent civilians. He thought of his father dying in the palace quarantine while an antidote existed in Levana’s control. He thought of all the lives he would be saving by stopping this war and obtaining the cure.

  “We will now commence with the exchanging of vows, as set forth by the council of leaders of the Earthen Union, beginning with the groom. Please, repeat after me.” Kamin glanced up to make sure Kai was paying attention. “I, Emperor Kaito of the Eastern Commonwealth of Earth…”

  He repeated, as accommodating as an android.

  “… take as my wife and the future empress of the Eastern Commonwealth, Her Royal Majesty, Queen Levana Blackburn of Luna…”

  He was out of his body again. Looking down. Listening to the words, but not understanding them. They held no meaning.

  “… to rule at my side with grace and justice, to honor the laws of the Earthen Union as laid out by our forefathers, to be an advocate for peace and fairness among all peoples.”

  Did anyone believe a word of this rubbish?

  “From this day forward, she will be my sun at dawn and my moon at night, and I vow to love and cherish her for all our days.”

  Who wrote these vows anyway? He’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life.

  But he said them, with no emotion and even less interest. Prime Minister Kamin gave him a nod, akin to a well done, and turned to Levana. “Now, the bride will repeat after me…”

  Kai tuned out Levana’s voice, examining their bound wrists instead. Was the ribbon around his wrist growing tighter? His fingers were beginning to tingle with numbness. He was losing circulation. But the ribbon curled innocently against his skin.

  Stars above, it was warm in here.

  “… and I vow to love and cherish him for all our days.”

  Kai snorted. Loudly.

  He’d meant for it to be kept inside, but it just slipped out.

  Levana tensed and the officiant speared him with a sharp look.

  Kai coughed in an attempt to smooth over the moment. “Sorry. There was something in my—” He coughed again.

  Terse wrinkles formed around Kamin’s mouth as she turned back to the queen. “Your Royal Majesty, do you hereby accept the terms of marriage set forth before you on this day, as both the rules of matrimony between two beings and also as the bond that will henceforth be forged between Luna and the Eastern Commonwealth, resulting in the political alliance of these two entities? If you accept, say ‘I do.’”

  “I do.” Levana’s voice was clear and sweet and sent a thousand piercing needles into Kai’s chest.

  His head was throbbing. From exhaustion, from disbelief, from misery.

  “Your Imperial Majesty, do you hereby accept the terms of marriage set forth before you on this day, as both the rules of matrimony between two beings and also as the bond that will henceforth be forged between the Eastern Commonwealth and Luna, resulting in the political alliance of these two entities? If you accept, say ‘I do.’”

  He blinked at Prime Minister Kamin.

  His heart was pulsating against his ribs, and her words were hollow echoes in his hollow head, and he had only to o
pen his mouth and say I do and the wedding would be over and Levana would be his wife.

  But his lips would not open.

  I don’t.

  The muscles flexed in the prime minister’s jaw. Her gaze hardened, prompting.

  I can’t.

  He felt the hush of a thousand guests bearing down on him. He imagined Torin and President Vargas and Queen Camilla and all the others, watching, waiting. He pictured all of Levana’s guards and thaumaturges and that smug Aimery Park and a thousand vain, ignorant aristocrats hanging on his silence.

  He knew Levana could force him to say the words, but she didn’t. Though he imagined a blast of icy air rolling off her with each passing second, she waited with all the others.

  Kai pried open his lips, but his tongue was heavy as iron.

  The officiant inhaled a patient breath and cast a worried glance to the queen, before fixating on Kai again. Her expression grew nervous.

  Kai looked down at the scissors she’d used to cut the ribbons.

  He moved fast, before he could question himself. His unbound hand shot forward, snatching the scissors off the altar. Blood rushed in his ears as he spun toward Levana, arm raised, and plunged the scissors toward her heart.

  Cinder cried out, her arms flying up in defense. The point of the scissors sliced through the fabric of her elbow-length gloves before coming to a swift halt, pressed into the silver bodice of her ball gown. Kai’s arm trembled with the effort to push through the control, but his hand was now carved from stone. Breath ragged, he looked up into Cinder’s face. She looked like she had at the ball, in her tattered dress and stained gloves, her damp hair tumbling around her face. The only difference was the blue ribbon tying them together and, now, a single slit cut into the silk of her gloves.

  Slowly, like molasses, blood began to seep through that cut, staining the fabric.

  Cinder—no, Levana—saw the blooming cut and snarled. Her hold on Kai snapped and he stumbled back. The scissors clattered to the floor, ringing with a tone of finality.

  “You dare to threaten me here?” Levana hissed, and though she tried to mimic Cinder’s voice, Kai could tell the difference. “In front of both our kingdoms?”

  Kai’s attention was still on the blood leaking from her wounded arm.

  He had done it. For a moment, he had gotten through the glamour, through the manipulation. It wasn’t much, but he had actually hurt her.

  “It wasn’t meant to be a threat,” he said.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “We both know you intend to kill me the moment I’m no longer useful to you. I thought it was fair to let you know the feeling is mutual.”

  Levana glared, and it was unnerving to see such hatred on Cinder’s face.

  Vibrating with adrenaline, Kai looked back at the audience. Most of their guests were on their feet, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. Near the front, Torin looked like he was ready to hurtle himself over two rows of seats to be at Kai’s side the instant he was needed.

  Kai held his gaze long enough, he hoped, to convey that he was all right. He had hurt her, Kai wanted to say. It was possible to hurt her. Which meant it was possible to kill her.

  Setting his jaw, Kai turned back to face Prime Minister Kamin. She, too, was shaking, both hands gripping her portscreen.

  “I do,” he said, listening to his own proclamation echo around the altar.

  The officiant’s gaze darted between him and his bride, like she wasn’t sure if she should proceed or not. But then Levana straightened her wedding gown—or Cinder’s ball gown, as it was. Whatever reaction she was hoping to get from him by maintaining the glamour, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—give it to her.

  When the silence had hovered for too long, Levana growled, “Get on with it then.”

  Kamin gulped. “By the power given to me by the people of Earth, I do now pronounce you … husband and wife.”

  Kai didn’t even flinch.

  “We ask that all video feeds be discontinued so the groom might kiss his bride.”

  Kai waited to be hit by a wall of dread, but even that was replaced with fervent determination. He imagined all the holographs on Luna fading away, and all the Earthen newsfeeds flickering to dead air. He imagined all his people watching, and the horror they must be feeling as those feeds were silenced.

  He turned to Levana.

  His bride.

  His wife.

  She was still impersonating Cinder, but the ball gown was replaced by the vibrant red wedding dress and sheer veil. She smiled deviously.

  Ignoring her, he mechanically took her veil between his fingers and pulled it over her head.

  “I thought you might prefer this look,” she said. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

  Kai couldn’t bring himself to react, no matter how much he wanted to reflect that haughtiness back to her. “In fact, I do.” He craned his head toward her. “Selene is more beautiful than you could ever be.”

  He kissed her. An abrupt, passionless kiss that felt nothing at all like kissing Cinder.

  A collective breath released from the audience.

  Kai pulled away, putting a full body of open air between them. The audience started to applaud, politely at first, then growing more enthusiastic as if they were afraid their clapping might not be polite enough. Kai held out his elbow for Levana to take, their hands still bound, and together they turned to face the audience. From the corner of his eye, he saw Cinder’s image melt away, her face replaced with Levana’s, and he was glad she looked annoyed. It was the tiniest of victories, but he was glad for it.

  They stood amid the thundering cheers, each of them seething.

  Husband and wife.

  Forty-Eight

  Cress had long ago lost track of where they were or what direction they were going. Jacin had dragged her through some complicated labyrinth of halls beneath the palace, down stairs and through maglev tunnels. Though it felt like they’d been walking for hours, she couldn’t even be sure they’d left the boundaries of Artemisia Central, given how circuitous their route had been.

  They were sneaking through a tunnel, staying close to the edges to avoid any shuttles, which had a tendency to sneak up too fast on their silent magnets, when the power cut out, plunging them into darkness. Cress gasped and reached for Jacin, but froze with her fingers inches away from where she expected him to be. Clenching her fist, she drew her hand back to her side.

  Brave. She was brave.

  In the distance, they heard the scream of a shuttle hitting the rails and careening to a stop.

  A moment later, orange emergency lights illuminated the tracks at their feet and a voice echoed from invisible speakers. “This shuttle route has been discontinued until further notice. Please proceed to the next platform on foot and prepare for a security inspection. The crown apologizes for any inconvenience.”

  She glanced up at Jacin. “What does that mean?”

  “My guess? That whatever Cinder’s doing, it’s working.” He started walking again, picking their way more carefully with the reduced lighting. “They must be limiting transportation into the city.”

  Her nerves hummed. “Will we be able to get out?”

  “We’re almost to the station that receives eighty percent of our supply trains. They should still be operational, given how many guests Levana has to feed this week.”

  Cress trotted in his wake, hoping he was right. He hadn’t been very forthcoming with his plan and she still had no idea where they were going. She wondered if he was right. Had Winter and Scarlet gotten her message to the others? Had they been able to broadcast the video? She had no answers. If Levana was aware of a potential uprising, she was keeping the knowledge to herself.

  The tunnel became wider, the rails merging with two other tracks, and Cress was hit with a pungent smell that reminded her of the caravan she and Thorne had crossed the Sahara with. Dirt and animals.

  Around the next bend in the tunnel, she could see a bright glow and hea
r the echoes of grating machinery and rumbling wheels. Jacin slowed his pace.

  A massive platform came into view. A holographic sign was showing coverage of the royal wedding.

  A dozen maglev tracks stretched in multiple directions, loaded with cargo trains. Most of their cars were hidden from view in the darkened tunnels, waiting to be relieved of their goods. Cranes and pulleys filled the dock and Cress imagined it would have taken countless laborers to man all the machinery, but the only personnel was a contingent of uniformed guards sweeping the cars ahead.

  Jacin pulled Cress into the shadows of the nearest train. A second later, a silhouette passed up ahead and the beam of a flashlight jotted in their direction. Jacin and Cress ducked between the nearest cars, watching as the light beam flickered along the ground and disappeared.

  “A6 is clear,” someone yelled, followed by another: “A7, clear.”

  There was a pause, then the hum of magnets. The train swayed forward.

  Jacin jumped onto the axle to keep from being caught on the tracks, hauling Cress up beside him. This time she did grab his arm as the train surged forward, then came to another stop. Car doors thudded open.

  Jacin jumped down from the axle, dragging Cress with him. “Inspections,” he whispered. “Making sure no one tries to sneak into the city.”

  “What about sneaking out of the city?”

  He pointed toward the front of the train. “We need to get into one of the cars that was already searched. This train should be heading back to the agriculture sectors from here.”

  They sneaked over the axle to the opposite side of the car. Though there were platforms on both sides of the tracks, the second platform had only a single guard, pacing the perimeter with an assault rifle at the ready.

  “All right, shortcake, when that guard has his back to us again, we’re going to sneak forward as fast as we can. Once he starts to turn, crawl under the train and hold still.”

  Cress glared at the back of his head. “Don’t call me shortcake.”

  Up ahead, someone yelled, “A8, clear! B1, clear!”