Winter

by Marissa Meyer

  First, she reconfigured the security codes for the queen’s broadcasting transmitter. She put the palace’s armory under lockdown. She scheduled a retraction for the tunnel barricades surrounding Artemisia.

  Breaking through the codes, navigating the protocols—it felt like a choreographed dance, and though her muscles were weary, they still remembered the steps.

  Finally, she pulled the chip from her bodice. She envisioned the transmitter on top of the palace, sending the crown’s official feed to receivers throughout the dome. A closed feed, protected by a complex labyrinth of internal firewalls and security codes.

  Five minutes could have passed. Eight. Nine, at the most.

  Check. Check. Check—

  She heard footsteps in the hallway as she was inserting the chip with Cinder’s video into the port. She felt the satisfying click.

  Download, data transfer, translate the encryption.

  Her fingers danced over the screens, daring the coding to keep up.

  Boots outside, pounding faster now.

  Her hair clung to the back of her neck.

  Check. Check.

  Done.

  Cress cleared the screens, disguising her motives with a few hasty commands.

  The door crashed open. Guards filed in.

  Confused silence.

  Squeezed into the alcove between the bank of screens and the transmitter’s mainframe, Cress held her breath.

  “Spread out—and get tech up here to find out what she did!”

  “She left a portscreen,” said someone else, and she heard a subtle clacking on the desk as they picked it up. Trembling, Cress looked down at the gun cradled in her hands. Her stomach was knotted again. She couldn’t help feeling like she’d grabbed the wrong thing. They would know the portscreen was Kai’s easy enough. They would know he’d helped her. “Maybe she was planning on coming back.”

  “You, stay here and wait for tech. And I want a guard posted at every door in this wing until she’s found. Go!”

  The door slammed shut and Cress released a shaky breath, wilting from the surge of adrenaline.

  She was trapped. Thorne was captured.

  But they had been heroic.

  Seventy-Seven

  Jacin had gone back outside by the time Winter finished cleaning the slippery gel-like substance out of her hair. She changed into the dry clothes someone had brought for her.

  She could not stop smiling. Jacin was back and he was alive.

  And yet, at the same time, her heart ached. People were going to die today.

  She checked her arms. The rash was already receding. At least, some of the bruises looked not quite as dark, and the blue had disappeared from beneath her fingernails.

  When she left the security of the washroom, she found the clinic crammed full of people—the one doctor and a dozen civilians checking on the patients who had been too ill to line up for the antidote outside. Seven deaths, she’d been told. In the short time since Levana had infected Winter, seven people in this sector had died from letumosis.

  It would have been many more if Jacin and Cinder hadn’t arrived, but Winter was hardly comforted. Seven deaths. Seven people who could have been in the suspension tank if they hadn’t given it to her.

  Winter passed the patients slowly, taking the time to smile and offer a comforting squeeze of a shoulder as she made her way to the exit. She emerged on the little wooden step.

  A whooping cheer swelled up in the dome, hundreds of voices buffeting her.

  Winter froze, then backed into the building’s overhang again. The crowd continued to cheer, shaking their makeshift weapons over their heads. The wolf soldiers started to howl. Winter wondered if she, too, should cheer. Or howl. Or if they expected her to speak—though her throat still felt chapped and her brain was still muddled.

  Scarlet appeared beside her, waving her arms in an attempt to quiet the crowd. She looked both pleased and annoyed as she faced Winter. The evidence of the plague still lingered on Scarlet’s pale skin—freckles mixed with bruises and irritated flesh. Though there were still a few dark blisters, the disease had not escalated as quickly on Scarlet as it had on Winter and those seven poor residents. They all knew she’d gotten lucky.

  “What’s happening?” Winter asked.

  “Cinder and the alphas are discussing strategy,” said Scarlet. “The coronation is scheduled to begin any minute now. People are getting restless. Plus, everyone loves you—surprise, surprise—and they’ve been waiting to see that you’re all right.”

  Winter risked a smile, and the people cheered again. Someone whistled and another soldier howled.

  Winter caught sight of a figure in the corner of her eye—Jacin was leaning against the clinic’s wall, watching her with a knowing smirk. “They haven’t started composing ballads in your honor yet,” he said, “but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.”

  “Cress did it!” Cinder yelled. She came charging through the crowd, a cluster of soldiers in tow. The people parted for her. “The barriers in the maglev tunnels are down. There’s nothing else to bar our way into Artemisia. There’s nothing stopping us from demanding that Levana be brought to justice!”

  Another cheer, twice as loud as before, billowed up and vibrated through the ground and echoed off the dome.

  Winter cast her gaze over the crowd, her heart expanding like a balloon. The people stared at Cinder with awe and clarity and the faint glow of hope. She’d never seen that before in the eyes of the citizens of Luna. Their faces were always obscured by fear and uncertainty. Or, even worse, gazing at her stepmother with dazed adoration. Love for their ruler forced upon them—a reminder that they had no freedom, not even in their own minds or hearts.

  This was different. The people weren’t blinded by Cinder’s glamour or being manipulated into seeing her as their rightful queen. They were seeing her as she truly was.

  “Alpha Strom, the map,” said Cinder, with an excited gesture.

  Strom handed her a holograph node and Cinder pulled up an image that everyone could see, outlining the path they would take into the capital.

  “We’re going to divide into two groups to allow for faster passage through the tunnels,” she said, indicating the routes on the map. “When we reach AR-4 and AR-6, we’ll divide our numbers further to disperse between the eight entrances into Artemisia. At every sector we pass, we’ll need volunteers to rally as many people to our cause as possible. Gather weapons and supplies, then keep moving. Remember, our safety lies in numbers. She keeps the sectors divided for a reason. She knows that she’s powerless if we all stand together, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do!”

  Another roar from the crowd, but Cinder—wild-eyed and exhilarated—had already turned toward the steps.

  Winter straightened, for once proud to be standing before her queen.

  “We’ve seen evidence that at least eighty-seven other sectors have joined our cause, and I have every reason to believe that number has continued to increase. With the shuttles down, that terrain-speeder is the best method we have for spreading our news quickly and ensuring that all civilians are joined into one solid force moving into Artemisia. Jacin, I’ve made a list of sectors I want you to go to—those that showed evidence of rebellion already and should have access to weapons. Also those closest to Artemisia that offer a solid hope for increasing our numbers fast. Hit as many as you can in the next two hours, then meet us in the tunnels beneath AR-4 at—”

  “No.”

  Cinder blinked. Her lips stayed half-wrapped around an unspoken word. She blinked again. “Excuse me?”

  “I won’t leave Winter.”

  A shiver coursed over Winter’s skin, but Jacin didn’t look at her.

  Mouth still open, Cinder looked at Winter, then Scarlet, then back at Jacin. She shut her mouth with a scowl and turned to Scarlet again. “Can you fly it?”

  “I’ve never even seen one of those things before. Does it fly like a spaceship?”

  Ci
nder’s withering glare returned to Jacin. “I need you to do it. I trust you, and—”

  “I said no.”

  She shook her head, disbelieving. Then angry. “What do you think is going to happen to Winter, to any of us, if we lose?”

  Jacin crossed his arms, ready to argue again, when Winter placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “I’ll go with him,” she said lightly, so her words might defuse some of the tension.

  It didn’t work. Jacin’s glower turned on her. “No, you will stay here and recover from almost dying. Besides, Levana’s been given enough chances to kill you. You’re not going anywhere near Artemisia.”

  She fixed her eyes on him, feeling the stir of determination she’d had when she decided to find her stepmother’s army and bring them to her side. “I may not be able to fight, but I can be useful. I’ll come with you and talk to the people. They’ll listen to me.”

  “Princess, we don’t have to—”

  “I’ve already made my decision. I have as much to lose as any of them.”

  “She makes some good points,” said Cinder.

  “Surprisingly,” added Scarlet.

  Jacin pushed Winter out of their little circle, into a semblance of privacy. “Look,” he whispered, gripping her elbows. She could feel the calluses on his hands, more poignant than she’d ever felt them before. Her pulse galloped at the unexpected intimacy. “If you want me to do this thing for Cinder, then I’ll do it. For you. But I won’t—I can’t lose you again.”

  Winter smiled and pressed her palms against his cheeks. “There is no safer place for me than at your side.”

  His jaw tightened. She could see the war in his thoughts, but she was already resolved.

  “I have lived in fear of her my entire life,” she continued. “If this is the only chance I’m given to stand against her, then I have to take it. I don’t want to hide. I don’t want to be afraid. And I don’t want to be separated from you, ever again.”

  His shoulders started to droop, the first indication she’d won. He raised a finger between them. “Fine. We’ll go together. But you are not to touch any weapons, understand?”

  “What would I do with a weapon?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Jacin, Winter.” Cinder was tapping her foot, her eyes wild with growing impatience. “We’re sort of on a tight—”

  As if the sky itself were listening, the dome overhead darkened, and three enormous screens lit up against the black backdrop.

  “People of Luna,” said a feminine voice, “please give your full attention now to this mandatory broadcast, live from Artemisia Palace. The royal coronation ceremony is about to begin.”

  A wicked grin pulled at Winter’s lips. She stepped away from Jacin, faced the people, and raised her arms to her sides. “People of Luna,” she said, echoing the broadcast and pulling the crowd’s attention away from the dome, “please give your full attention now to the true heir to the Lunar throne, Princess Selene, live from your very own sector.” Her eyes flashed as she swooped an arm toward Cinder. “Our revolution is about to begin.”

  BOOK

  Five

  The mirror answered: “You, my queen, are fair; it’s true.

  But the young queen is far more fair than you.”

  Seventy-Eight

  Kai barreled down the hallway, glad no one was around to see him sprinting in his coronation finery, though his thoughts were too full to worry about appearances. Cinder was alive. Thorne was captured. Cinder was going to invade Artemisia.

  Today. Now.

  He still felt guilty for leaving Cress alone. He should have done more. He shouldn’t have cared how late he was to this coronation, a ceremony he had no desire to be a part of to begin with. He should have taken more pleasure in making Levana wait. He should have faked another kidnapping.

  He cursed inside, wishing he would have thought of that sooner.

  But, no—his going missing would set off alarms and the last thing Cress and the others needed were alarms. The best thing he could do to quell Levana’s suspicions was to go forward as if nothing had changed.

  The best thing he could do was crown her empress of his country.

  It made him sick to think it, but he would stick to the plan. He would play his part.

  He spun around a corner, nearly toppling a statue of some chisel-muscled moon god. Kai grabbed the statue, righting it while his heart launched into his throat. When both he and the statue had calmed, he shoved his way through the double doors that led into a series of private waiting chambers.

  Two guards flanked the doorway into the great hall. Torin was seated on a cushioned bench beside a woman with gold, poufed hair, who gasped with such fervor Kai thought she might pass out.

  “Oh, thank you, Artemis!” she said, pressing a cloth to her brow. “Where have you been?”

  “I told you he was on his way,” said Torin.

  The woman ignored him, already speaking into a device attached to her wrist. “The emperor has arrived. Ceremony to commence in thirty seconds.” She shoved the port onto her belt and focused on Kai, scanning him with a mix of anxiety and disgust. “Earthens,” she muttered, straightening his sash and brushing his hair away from his face. “You never take any pride in your appearance.”

  He gulped back a quick retort involving gold hair and accepted a glass of water from a servant.

  Torin stood from the bench and slipped his hands into his pockets. He looked alarmingly casual without a jacket, and Kai wondered if he, too, had already been criticized by this woman, whoever she was. “Is everything all right, Your Majesty?”

  The words were said with calm indifference, but Kai could see tense curiosity beneath Torin’s expression.

  Although he didn’t know whether it was true, he nodded. “Everything’s fine.”

  Beyond the double doors he could hear the chatter of hundreds of voices and he wondered what rumors were already circulating as to the ceremony’s delay. “I’m ready.”

  “So is Her Majesty,” said the woman. She shoved Torin toward another entrance. “You—go take your seat! Your Majesty, follow me.”

  Kai followed her between the guards, through the double doors, into a short hallway lined with ornamental pillars.

  Levana was waiting, outfitted in a dress that matched Kai’s sash—the colors of the Eastern Commonwealth. She looked like a giant walking flag, with a row of stars along the base of her gown’s hem and a white lotus blossoming across her side. She, too, wore a sash, this in burnt orange—on Earth, the color of the rising sun.

  The sight of her showing so much fake patriotism for the Commonwealth made him want to tear off that sash and strangle her with it.

  She held her hands toward him as he approached. Though he bristled, he had no choice but to take them. Her fingers were icy cold.

  “My dear husband,” she cooed. “I feel we were parted for too long.”

  He scowled. “How long are you planning on keeping up this charade, exactly?”

  “‘Charade’?” Levana tittered. “Surely a wife is allowed to long for her husband without her emotions being considered suspect?”

  “Unless you want me to be physically ill during these proceedings, I suggest we change the topic.”

  Her expression hardened. “Our marriage union is final and binding. It is your choice how you react to the situation.”

  “You’re giving me a choice about something?” Kai flashed his most diplomatic smile. “How generous of you.”

  Levana matched the look. “There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” She turned so they were facing the great hall, arm in arm. Kai caught a glimpse of the scratch on her forearm where he had cut her with the scissors during their wedding.

  The sight strengthened him as the horns blared.

  The doors were pulled back, revealing masses of onlookers. Kai found it a strain on his eyes to look at the vibrant colors and sparkling lights and flouncy materials spilling out of the audience and into the ais
le.

  “All rise for Her Royal Majesty, Queen Levana Blackburn of Luna, direct descendant of First King Cyprus Blackburn, and His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Kaito of the Eastern Commonwealth of Earth.”

  The Lunar anthem began to play. Kai and Levana paced down the aisle. If it weren’t for the gaudy clothing in the pews, the mood would have felt somber.

  “I was given an interesting piece of information before you arrived,” said Levana, keeping her expression pleasant for the crowd, “involving a traitor that was recently detained in our underground holding cells.”

  Kai’s stomach tightened. “Do go on.”

  “It seems they found one of Linh Cinder’s accomplices prowling around our palace. That Earthen criminal—Carswell Thorne, I believe is his name.”

  “That is interesting.”

  “I don’t suppose you know what he was attempting to accomplish here?”

  “Perhaps he felt slighted at not receiving an invitation.”

  Levana nodded to the crowd. “No matter. We caught him before he could cause too much trouble.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “I thought, as you will soon be Luna’s king consort and he was your prisoner before he was mine, I might allow you to decide how best to execute him.”

  He set his jaw. “How my wife does honor me.”

  Though in reality, while Levana was trying to goad his temper, she’d given him a gift. It was a relief to hear that Thorne wasn’t already dead.

  As they neared the end of the aisle, he spotted his Earthen peers near the front. Torin was already there—they must have sneaked him in through some other entrance—along with dozens of representatives from the Commonwealth and the other nations. He even saw, with some surprise, Linh Adri and Linh Pearl standing beside an American representative. They both wore frozen smiles, and though Kai had a particular kind of hatred for those two women, he also felt a sting of sympathy. Levana had been toying with them like a cat toys with a mouse before devouring it. Offering favors, then punishing them, then offering favors again. No wonder they both looked stricken with fear, afraid to make any sudden movements.