“Can you call a meeting? You, me, the Earthen leaders … and … does Luna … do I have a cabinet, or a prime minister or anything?”
His lip twitched like he wanted to tease her, but he withheld the urge. “Normally the head thaumaturge would act as second in command, but Thaumaturge Aimery is dead. Your court is in sad disarray right now, I’m afraid.”
“Well, whoever you think should be invited then, to an official meeting. An important one.”
“Cinder…”
“And my stepmother. Is she still here?”
He frowned. “Actually, yes. She and her daughter have been given a spot aboard one of our representatives’ ships, but it won’t be leaving until tomorrow.”
“Bring her too. And maybe that doctor that was just here.”
“Cinder, you need to rest.”
“I’m fine. I have to do this—as soon as possible, before anyone else tries to kill me.”
He grinned, but it was a tender look. “You have to do what, exactly?”
“Sign the Treaty of Bremen.” Saying the words brought a real smile to her lips. “I want to make our alliance official.”
Ninety-Three
Jacin slumped in the visitor chair, watching the doctor check Winter’s vitals with no small amount of envy. He wished he was the one to administer to her needs, to know from a readout of life statistics how she was faring and what he could do to make her better. Instead he had to sit there and pretend to be patient and wait for the doctor to inform him, once again, there was nothing to be done. They just had to wait and see if she would recover.
Recover.
Jacin hated the word. Every time it was said he could hear Winter’s voice, haunted and afraid. I do not know that even a sane person could recover from this. So how can I?
“Her heartbeat is still accelerated,” said the doctor, putting away his portscreen, “but at least she’s sleeping. We’ll check on her again when she wakes up.”
Jacin nodded, holding back any of the multiple retorts he had. When she wakes up kicking and screaming. When she wakes up crying. When she wakes up howling again like a sad, lonely wolf. When she wakes up and nothing has changed.
“I don’t get it,” Jacin grumbled, letting his gaze rest on Winter’s forehead—at least she was calm in her sleep. “It should have made her better, using her gift. Not worse. She shouldn’t be like this, after so many years of fighting it.”
“All those years are precisely what caused it.” The doctor sighed, and he too looked wistfully down on the princess. Too wistfully. Jacin bristled. “It might help to think of the brain and our gift like a muscle. If you don’t use that muscle for many years, and then one day you decide to push it to its full potential, you’re more likely to strain it than strengthen it. She did too much, too quickly, and it … damaged her mind, quite extensively.”
I am destroyed, she’d said. Not damaged. Destroyed.
And that was before Aimery had even shown up.
As soon as the doctor left, Jacin scooted his chair closer to Winter’s bed. He checked the padded restraints on her limbs—they were secure, but not too tight. She had often woken up with violent thrashing and clawing, and one medical assistant had nearly lost an eye before they decided it was best to secure her. Jacin hated watching them do it, but even he agreed it was for the best. She had become a danger to others and to herself. Her teeth had even left an impressive gash on his own shoulder, yet he still couldn’t fathom that it was Winter lashing out. Sweet, gentle Winter.
Broken, destroyed Winter.
Jacin let his fingers lie on her wrists longer than was necessary, but there was no one to chastise him now, other than himself.
The rash from the disease grew fainter every day. He doubted it would leave many scars, and what it did leave would be largely unnoticeable on her dark skin. Not like the scars on her cheek that had paled over time.
He both hated and admired those scars. On one hand, they reminded him of a time she’d been suffering. Of a time when he hadn’t been able to protect her.
On the other hand, they also reminded him of her bravery and the courage that so few people saw in her. In her subtly defiant way, she had dared to go against Levana’s wishes and the expectations of their society time and again. She had been forced to choose her battles, but choose them she had, and both her losses and her victories had cost her so much.
The doctors were at a loss for what to do with her. They had little experience with Lunar sickness. Few people chose to let their sanity deteriorate like she had, and they could only guess what the long-term effects might be.
And all because she refused to be like Levana and Aimery and all the rest of the Lunars who abused and manipulated and used others to fulfill their own selfish desires.
Even in her last desperate act, when she had used Scarlet’s hand to kill Aimery, Jacin knew she had done it to save him, not herself. Never herself.
Just like he would do anything to save her.
He dragged a hand down his face, overcome with exhaustion. He’d spent every night since the fight at her side and was surviving on little nourishment and even less sleep.
His parents, he had been shocked to learn, were not dead. He had been certain that his defying Levana’s order and helping Winter escape would end in their public executions, like Levana had threatened, but a twist of irony had spared their lives. His father had been transferred to a lumber sector years ago. When Cinder’s call for revolution broadcast, the civilians rioted, imprisoning all of their guards and the guards’ families. By the time Levana’s order to have them killed had come through, Jacin’s parents were no longer under her domain. The lumber sector, it turned out, was the same one where Winter had been poisoned.
He hadn’t seen them yet, as all guards were waiting to be granted trials under the new regime. Most would be offered a chance to swear fealty to Queen Selene and join the new royal guard she was building. He knew his father, a good man who had long suffered under Levana’s thumb, would be happy at the change.
Jacin himself was nervous to be reunited with his family. After years of pushing everyone he loved away, it was difficult to imagine a life in which he was free to care for people without fear of them becoming pawns to be used against him.
He knew they would love to see Winter again too, who had been like a part of their family growing up. But … not like this. Seeing her like this would break their hearts.
Seeing her like this …
Winter whimpered, a pathetic sound like that of a dying animal. Jacin jumped to his feet and settled a hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. She whipped her head back and forth a few times, her eyes jerking beneath her closed lids, but she didn’t wake up. When she had settled down again, Jacin breathed a heavy sigh.
He wanted her to be better. He wanted this to be over. He wanted her to open her eyes and not thrash or bite or howl. He wanted her to look at him with recognition and happiness and that hint of mischief that had captured his heart long before she’d been the most beautiful girl on Luna.
He pulled a coiled spring of hair away from her lips, brushing it back off her face.
“I love you, Princess,” he whispered, hovering over her for a long time, tracing the planes of her face and the curve of her lips and remembering how she had kissed him in the menagerie. She’d told him then that she loved him, and he hadn’t been brave enough to say it back.
But now …
He placed one hand on the other side of her body, leaning into it for balance. His heart was racing, and he felt like an idiot. If anyone saw him, they’d think he was one of Winter’s creepy admirers.
It would change nothing—every bit of logic told him so. A stupid, idealistic kiss could not put her mind back together.
But he had nothing to lose.
Winter went on sleeping, her chest rising. Falling.
Rising and falling and rising.
Jacin realized he was stalling. Building up hope, but als
o erecting a wall around himself for when nothing happened. Because nothing would happen.
He leaned over her, leaving a hint of space between them, and dug his fingers into the thin hospital blankets. “I love you, Winter. I always have.”
He kissed her. One-sided as it was, it had little of the passion there’d been in the menagerie, but so much more hope. And a whole lot of foolishness.
Pulling away, he swallowed hard and dared to open his eyes.
Winter was staring at him.
Jacin snapped backward. “Dammit, Winter. You … how long…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Were you just pretending to be asleep?”
Winter stared up at him, a dreamy half smile on her lips.
Jacin’s pulse skittered at that look, his attention dipping back to her lips. Was it possible—?
“Win—Princess?”
“Hello,” she said, her voice parched, but no less sweet than usual. “Do you see the snow?”
His brow twitched. “Snow?”
Winter peered up at the ceiling. Though her wrists were bound tight, she opened up a palm, like trying to catch something. “It is more beautiful than I’d ever imagined,” she whispered. “I am the girl of ice and snow, and I think I’m very glad to meet you.”
Disappointment tried to burrow into Jacin’s chest, but the walls he’d thrown up did their job, and it was repelled as quickly as it came.
At least she wasn’t trying to bite him.
“Hello, snow girl,” he said, folding her fingers around an imaginary snowflake. “I’m glad to meet you too.”
Ninety-Four
Still weak-legged, Cinder held on to Kai’s arm as he guided her through Artemisia Palace for the first time since the insurrection. All around her, enormous windows and tiled walls glittered in the sunlight. It was so beautiful. She was having trouble believing it was hers.
Her palace, her kingdom, her home.
She wondered how long it would take before it felt real.
Iko had chosen her dress, a simple gown taken from Winter’s wardrobe, and done her hair in some fancy updo. Cinder was afraid to move her head for fear it would all come tumbling down. She knew she was supposed to feel regal and powerful, but instead she felt like a feeble girl playing dress-up.
She drew strength from Kai’s presence on one side and Iko on the other, even though Iko wouldn’t stop reaching up and mucking with her hair. Cinder batted her away again.
At least Iko’s arm was working again. Dr. Nandez had managed to return most of her body’s functionality, but there was still a lot of damage to be repaired.
As they turned a corner, she spotted her new personal guard, Liam Kinney, along with Kai’s adviser, Konn Torin. Beside them were Adri and Pearl.
Cinder hesitated, her pulse speeding up.
“Cinder.”
She met Kai’s gaze, his encouraging smile, and felt her heart tumbling for another reason entirely.
“I know this is weird,” he said, “but I’m here if you need me. You won’t need me, though. You’re going to be great.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, fighting the urge to embrace him, to crawl into his arms and hide from the rest of the galaxy. Maybe forever.
“Also”—his voice lowered—“you look beautiful.”
It was Iko who responded, “Thank you for noticing.”
Kai laughed, while Cinder, her thoughts fluttering in all different directions, ducked her head.
Cinder limped along, making a point not to look at her stepfamily. When she was close enough, Konn Torin bowed to her. Diplomatic respect, Cinder thought, remembering all the many glares she’d received from this man since she’d first seen him at the annual ball. But when he raised his head, he was smiling. In fact, he seemed downright friendly.
“Your Majesty,” he said. “On behalf of the people of the Eastern Commonwealth, I want to thank you for all you’ve done, and all you will do.”
“Oh, um. Yeah. Anytime.” With a difficult swallow, she dared to look at Adri.
Her stepmother’s face had a gauntness about it. Her number of gray hairs had tripled these past weeks.
There was a moment in which Cinder thought of a thousand things she could say to this woman, but none of them seemed important anymore.
Adri’s gaze dropped to the floor. She and Pearl both lowered into uncomfortable curtsies.
“Your Majesty,” said Adri, sounding like she was chewing on a bitter lemon. Beside her, Pearl also mumbled, almost unintelligibly, “Your Majesty.”
Iko snorted—a derisive sound that Cinder hadn’t even thought escorts were capable of making.
Staring at the tops of Pearl’s and Adri’s heads, she attempted to come up with a gracious response—something Kai would have said. Things a good queen would have done to ease the tension. To offer forgiveness.
Instead, she turned away.
Kinney fisted a hand against his chest and Cinder gave him what she hoped was a regal nod, before Kai led her through a pair of double doors. She had asked him to find a neutral place to host this meeting—not the throne room that had seen so much blood, or the queen’s solar, or wherever Levana would have conducted such a thing. She entered into a conference room with an enormous marble table and two holograph nodes, turned off.
The room was already full. She gulped, the uncanny silence nearly pushing her back into the hallway. She recognized most of them, but her brain interface wasted no time in pulling up their profiles from the net database anyway.
President Vargas of the American Republic.
Prime Minister Kamin of the African Union.
Queen Camilla of the United Kingdom.
Governor-General Williams of Australia.
Prime Minister Bromstad of the European Federation.
Dr. Nandez—the acclaimed cybernetic surgeon, and Nainsi, the android that Cinder had fixed for Kai a long time ago. She had been brought to Luna to record this occasion for Earth’s official records.
Adri and Pearl were escorted around the table.
Which left only Iko, Kai, Konn Torin, and Cinder herself—or, Her Royal Majesty, Queen Selene Channary Jannali Blackburn of Luna. She wondered if it was all right for her to ask that everyone just call her Cinder.
Before she could speak, the world’s leaders rose to their feet and started to applaud. Cinder recoiled.
One by one, they went around the room, bowing and curtsying in turn.
Suddenly panicked, Cinder looked at Kai. He gave her a one-shouldered shrug, suggesting that, yeah, it’s weird, but you get used to it.
When the circle came around to him, he too pressed one hand to his chest and inclined his head, the best bow he could give while still supporting her with one arm.
“Th-thank you,” she stammered, wondering if she should curtsy, but she couldn’t perform a graceful curtsy on her best of days, and it would be disastrous with all her injuries. Instead she held her cyborg hand out to them. “Um, please, be seated?”
The clapping had faded, but no one sat.
Kai led Cinder to the head of the table and eased her into a seat. Only then did the others follow, Kai taking the seat to Cinder’s right. Adri and Pearl were sandwiched between Konn Torin and President Vargas. They looked supremely uncomfortable.
“Um. Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Cinder began. She tried folding her hands on top of the table, but that felt strange, so she instead curled them in her lap. “I’m sure you’re all eager to return home.”
“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” said Queen Camilla, not looking at all sorry, “but might I take this moment to say congratulations on the reclamation of your throne.”
Another fit of clapping started at the queen’s words, and Cinder had the impression they weren’t so much congratulating her on becoming a queen as they were congratulating themselves on no longer having to deal with Levana.
“Thanks. Thank you. I hope you’ll understand that I … um. I hope you’ll be patient with me. This is all new fo
r me and I’m not…”
I’m not really a queen.
She glanced around the table, at the eager, hopeful faces staring at her like she was some sort of hero. Like she had done something great. Her gaze swept around the table, feeling more nervous and inadequate with every person she crossed—older, wiser, experienced—until Kai.
As soon as he had her attention, he winked.
Her stomach flipped.
She turned away and squared her shoulders.
“I asked you here today because the relationship between Earth and Luna has been strained for a long time, and my first act as…” She hesitated and moved her hands to the top of the table again, lacing her fingers together. A few gazes dropped to her cyborg prosthetic, but all tried to pretend they hadn’t noticed. “As my first act as queen of Luna, I want to forge a peaceful alliance with the Earthen Union. Even if it’s only symbolic at first, I hope it will be the start of a fruitful and mutually beneficial … political … um…” She glanced at Kai.
“Relationship?” he suggested.
“Relationship.” She straightened her spine, hoping she didn’t sound as stupid as she felt. Around her, though, the diplomats were nodding, all respect and agreement. “I’m aware that a peaceful alliance will begin with all Lunar military units being removed from Earthen soil, and I will try to ensure that the transition is completed as quickly as possible.”
A breath of relief washed over those gathered.
“In fact,” Cinder continued, “my understanding is that, under Kai—Emperor Kai—Kaito?” She raised her eyebrows at him, realizing this was the first time she’d ever been expected to be formal in his presence.
In response, Kai looked like he wanted to laugh. She glared at him.
“Under Emperor Kaito’s instruction,” she continued, “some of those military units are already en route back to Luna.”
A round of nods. They had heard this already.
She swallowed, hard. Her wounds were starting to itch on top of the constant, drug-dulled aching. She hoped that her first act as queen wouldn’t be passing out.
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