Winter

by Marissa Meyer

  “I’m sure you’re the only one.” He stopped pacing long enough to grin at her.

  Warmth flooded her face, and she looked down, noticing his cast again. He would have to retrain himself how to fly with his injuries. “I’m—I’m sorry about your hand,” she stammered.

  “Don’t,” he said quickly, as if he’d been expecting this apology. “Scarlet and I are going to start a missing-fingers club. We might let Cinder be an honorary member.” Sinking onto the edge of the bed, he stared at his cast, twisting it in the light. “Plus, I’m thinking of getting some cyborg replacements. You know how Cinder’s hand does all sorts of tricks? I thought it might be nice to always have a toothpick handy. Or maybe a comb.” He sounded distracted, like his words and thoughts weren’t lining up with each other. When he dared to look up again, there was anxiety behind his eyes. “I’m sorry too, Cress. I … I nearly killed you and—”

  “Levana almost killed me.”

  His jaw flexed. “I was the one holding the knife. I felt it. I felt it happening, and there was nothing I could do…”

  “There was nothing you could do,” she agreed.

  Settling his elbows on his knees, he leaned over, his head hanging between his shoulders. “No. I know.” He dragged his good hand through his hair. “I know, logically, that it was her, not me. But … Cress.” He sighed. “I will have nightmares about that moment for the rest of my life.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Cress, that’s not…” Massaging the back of his neck, he peered up at her, but the look was so intense she had trouble holding it. Her blush deepened. “I…” He planted his hands on his knees, bracing himself. “Will you stay on my crew?”

  Her thoughts scattered. “Your … crew?”

  “I know.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve spent your entire life in space, removed from civilization. I understand if you say no. If you want to stay here on Luna, or even … even if you want me to take you to Earth. I’m sure you could stay with Kai for a while, who, you know, lives in a palace.” Thorne’s expression darkened. “Which is probably really tempting compared with the cargo ship I’m offering.”

  He started to pace again. “But Wolf and Scarlet are staying on—just temporarily, until the disease is under control. And I had an idea. This assignment will take us all over the Republic. Not that we’ll be doing much sightseeing, but there’ll be … um. Forests. And mountains. And all sorts of things. And when we’re done, if there’s anywhere you want to go back to, we could do that. And stay for a while. Or I could take you … anywhere. Anywhere you want to see.”

  His pacing was making her dizzy. “You’re offering me a … job.”

  “Ye—no.” He hesitated. “I mean, sort of. You know, this went a lot smoother when I practiced last night.”

  She shut one eye, squinting. “Captain, I’m still on a lot of medication, and I’m not sure I’m following you.”

  He took in the hospital gown and hovering chair as if he’d forgotten about them. “Spades, I am bad at this, aren’t I? Do you want to lie down? You should lie down.”

  Without waiting for a response, he swept an arm beneath her knees and lifted her out of the chair, gentle, as if he were picking up a priceless dream doll. She buried a hiss of pain in her throat as he carried her to the bed.

  “Better?” he said, easing her on top of the covers.

  “Better,” she admitted.

  But he didn’t let go, and he was awfully close when she met his eyes. “Cress, look. I’m obviously no good at this. At least not when it’s … when it’s you.” He seemed frustrated. His fingers curled, gathering up the flimsy material of the hospital gown. “But I am good at this.”

  He leaned closer and his lips found hers, pressing her into the soft pillows. She gasped and dug her fingers into his shirt, afraid he would pull away before she could memorize this moment. But he didn’t pull away, and Cress gradually dared to kiss him back. The mattress shifted—Thorne bringing a knee up to keep from crushing her. His cast brushed her hip, clumsy at first, but less so when he raised it to the side of her face to trace his bare thumb against her jaw. And his lips followed. To her chin. Her neck. The dip of her clavicle.

  Her body became liquid, and she thought, if they could bottle him, he would make the best pain medication.

  Thorne stopped kissing her, but she could still feel the brush of his hair against her jaw, the warmth of his breath on her shoulder.

  “Twenty-three,” he said.

  “Mm?” She opened her dazed eyes. Thorne pulled back, looking guilty and worried, which made some of her euphoria fade away.

  “You once asked me how many times I’d told a girl I loved her. I’ve been trying to remember them all, and I’m pretty sure the answer is twenty-three.”

  She blinked, a slow, fluttering stare. Her lips pursed in a question that took a while to form. “Including the Lunar girl who kissed you?”

  His brow furrowed. “Are we counting her?”

  “You said it, didn’t you?”

  His gaze darted to the side. “Twenty-four.”

  Cress gaped. Twenty-four girls. She didn’t even know twenty-four people.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I need you to know I never meant it. I said it because I thought that’s what you’re supposed to say, but it didn’t mean anything. And it’s different with you. This is the first time I’ve been scared. Scared you’ll change your mind. Scared I’ll screw it up. Aces, Cress, I’m terrified of you.”

  Her stomach fluttered. He didn’t look terrified.

  “Here’s the thing.” Thorne crawled over her legs and lay down beside her, boots and all. “You deserve better than some thief who’s going to end up in jail again. Everyone knows it. Even I know it. But you seem determined to believe I’m actually a decent guy who’s halfway worthy of you. So, what scares me most”—he twisted a lock of her hair between his fingers—“is that someday even you will realize that you can do better.”

  “Thorne…”

  “Not to worry.” He kissed the lock of hair. “I am a criminal mastermind, and I have a plan.” Clearing his throat, he started to check things off in the air. “First, get a legitimate job—check. Legally buy my ship—in progress. Prove that I’m hero material by helping Cinder save the world—oh, wait, I did that already.” He winked. “Oh, and I have to stop stealing things, but that’s probably a given. So I figure, by the time you realize how much I don’t deserve you … I might kind of deserve you.” His grin turned smug. “And that’s how that speech was supposed to go.”

  “That was a good speech,” she said.

  “I know.” Scooting closer, he kissed her shoulder. Goose bumps erupted down her arm.

  “Captain?”

  “Cress.”

  She couldn’t not say it, although she realized he was right. It was sort of scary. Much scarier than it had been the first time she’d told him, out in the desert. It was different now. It was real. “I’m in love with you.”

  He chuckled. “I should hope so, after all that.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her temple. “And I love you too.”

  Ninety-Six

  Winter picked up a stick from the ground and tossed it toward the protective fence around the enclosure, but the ghost Ryu just tilted his head to one side.

  Sighing, she dropped her hands into her lap.

  Her fits still came and went, but she’d been deemed lucid enough that the doctors allowed her to make the decision: Would she rather remain in the med-clinic, where she could be restrained when her outbursts came, or would she rather be outfitted with shock bracelets that could incapacitate her when needed? She had chosen this imaginary freedom, thinking of Ryu and how his own collar would never let him leave the enclosure that must have seemed very escapable at first.

  Jacin hated the idea. He had argued that her mind was fragile enough without fearing random shocks. But Winter had needed to get out of the clinic. She had neede
d to get away from the nightmares that haunted her.

  She came to the menagerie often since her release, finding it one of the few serene places in a city that was fluttering with talk of reconstruction and political change. This was all very important, of course. She had always wanted her country to be a place where the people could speak their mind and be treated fairly, where people were given choices over the life they wanted to live. But the talk of it made her head hurt. When the world started to spin out of control she found it best to remove herself to somewhere peaceful and solitary, where she couldn’t hurt anyone but herself.

  The delusions were no longer constant like they had been in the days following the battle, although her mind still tricked her into seeing her stepmother’s shadow in the palace, waiting with a sharpened knife and cruelly kind words. Or the flash of Aimery’s eyes following her down the corridors. Too often she smelled the blood dripping down the walls.

  The first time she’d come to the menagerie, Ryu’s ghost had been waiting for her.

  In the uncertainty of the revolution, the gamekeepers had run away, and had yet to be found. The animals had been hungry and restless, and Winter had spent the whole day hunting down the storage rooms where the food was kept, cleaning out the cages, and turning the menagerie back into the sanctuary she’d always known it to be. When Jacin had come looking for her, he conscripted servants to help too.

  Staying busy helped. It was not a cure, but it helped. As far as anyone cared, she was the gamekeeper now, though everyone still called her Princess and pretended she didn’t smell like manure.

  Ryu laid his head in Winter’s lap and she stroked him between the ears, this sad ghost who wouldn’t play fetch anymore.

  “Princess.”

  Ryu evaporated. Jacin was leaning against the enclosure wall, not far from where he’d faked her murder. Where she’d kissed him and he’d kissed her back.

  With that memory, Winter was submerged. In water and ice, in hot and cold. She shivered.

  Jacin’s brow twitched with concern, but she stuffed the memory down. Not a hallucination. Just a normal fantasy, like a normal girl might have when she had a normal crush on her best friend.

  “You don’t have to call me that, you know,” she said, brushing her hair back from her shoulders. “There was a time when you called me Winter.”

  He leaned his elbows on the enclosure wall. “There was also a time when I could come visit you without feeling like I was supposed to toss bread crumbs to earn your favor.”

  “Bread crumbs? Do I look like a goose?”

  He tilted his head to the side. “You don’t look like an arctic wolf, either, but that’s what the plaque tells me I’m looking at.”

  Winter leaned back on her hands. “I will not play fetch,” she said, “but I might howl if you ask nicely.”

  He grinned. “I’ve heard your howl. It’s not very wolf-like, either.”

  “I’ve been practicing.”

  “You won’t bite me if I come in there, will you?”

  “I make no guarantees.”

  Jacin hopped over the rail and came to sit beside her. She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look like an arctic wolf, either.”

  “I also don’t howl.” He considered. “Though I might play fetch, depending on the prize.”

  “The prize is another game of fetch.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.”

  Her lips curled upward, but when it seemed like Jacin was going to return the smile, he looked away. “You and I have had a request from Cin—Selene. Now that the treaty’s signed, she wants to start discussing trade agreements between Luna and Earth. Along with open communication, travel, access to Earthen media, stuff like that.”

  Ryu bumped his head between Winter’s shoulder blades. Pulling back her arm, she tried to scratch under his ear, but as soon as she touched him, he faded away.

  Jacin was watching her. “The wolf again?”

  “Don’t worry. He’s forgiven you.”

  He frowned.

  “What can we do to help Selene with her politics?”

  “Well, given that you’re so regrettably charming, and you did such a great job getting the wolf soldiers to join us, and everyone likes you so much…”

  “So many compliments in a row? I feel like I must be walking into a trap.”

  “Exactly. Cinder thinks you might make a good ambassador. Her first ambassador.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “What would I have to do?”

  “I’m not sure. Go to Earth. Have dinner with fancy people. Show them we Lunars aren’t all monsters.”

  She grinned, feeling wolfish.

  “I told her I would ask,” Jacin added, “but you’re not obligated to say yes. You need to take care of yourself first.”

  “Would you be with me?”

  “Of course.” He crossed one ankle over the other. “But you could say no, and I’ll be with you then too. I’m done serving everyone else.” He leaned back onto his elbows. “Who knows. Maybe someday I’ll take up studying to be a doctor again. But until then, I’m your guard, to do with as you will.”

  “So it will be like playing the Princess and the Guard,” she said—a game they’d played when they were kids. She’d act out a much bossier version of herself, while Jacin would model himself after their fathers, all stoic and serious and scrambling to do her bidding. When Winter ran out of commands to give him, they would pretend there were murderers and kidnappers coming for the princess and he would protect her from them.

  Jacin grinned. “Hopefully with fewer kidnappings.”

  She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “If Cinder wishes it, I would be honored to charm the people of Earth.”

  “I had a feeling you’d say that.” Lying all the way back, he rubbed a hand over his forehead.

  Ryu howled, crying his soul up to the menagerie’s vine-covered glass ceiling. He was not usually so restless. Maybe it was Jacin’s presence. Maybe Ryu was trying to speak to her.

  Maybe this was her own insanity, signifying nothing.

  Winter started to speak, but hesitated. She looked down at Jacin, but he had his hand covering his eyes. She wondered if he’d been sleeping much lately.

  “Dr. Nandez says she may have a prototype of Cinder’s device ready within the next week.”

  Jacin’s hand lifted. “Already?”

  “She doesn’t know yet if it will work. She needs a test subject first.”

  “Princess—”

  “I’ve already volunteered. You can try to talk me out of it, but I’m fully prepared to ignore you.”

  Jaw tensing, Jacin sat up again. “The test subject? We don’t know what the side effects will be. We don’t know if it will even work. Let someone else try it first.”

  “I want to do it. I am one of the most severe cases of Lunar sickness to date.” She lost her fingers in the wolf’s fur. “But it’s occurred to me that, if it works, I won’t see Ryu again.” She smiled sadly. “And what if … what if people don’t like me anymore?”

  Jacin shook his head. “They don’t like you because you’re crazy. They like you because…”

  She waited.

  “Because you were good to them when no one else was. Because you care. This device won’t change who you are.”

  “You want me to be fixed, don’t you?”

  Jacin drew back, as if she’d thrown something at him. “You’re not broken.”

  Her vision began to blur. “Yes, Jacin. I am.”

  “No, you’re—” He growled, a throaty, frustrated sound that made her feel giddy. “Look, I would love to not have to worry about you anymore. That you’ll hurt yourself or that someone will take advantage of you. But you’re not—you’re—”

  “I’m delusional, and crazy, and damaged. I’ve known it a long time, we both have. Scarlet tells me all the time.”

  “You’re perfect,” he said, finishing his thought as if she hadn’t interrupted. “I don’t care if you see dead
wolves and turn into a living ice sculpture when you’re having a bad day. I don’t care if I have an imprint of your teeth on my shoulder. I don’t care if you’re … fixed.” He spat the word like it tasted bad. “I want you to be safe and happy. That’s all.”

  Winter fluttered her lashes at him, and he turned away. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “I want to be the test subject.” She reached for his hand. “I’ll be safe and happy when I’m no longer afraid of my own mind.”

  Pressing his lips into a thin line, Jacin nodded. Slowly. “I just don’t like the idea of you going first,” he grumbled.

  “Jacin?”

  He met her gaze again.

  Winter scooted closer and linked her arm with his. “You think I’m perfect?”

  He didn’t look away. Didn’t look bashful or even nervous. Just stared at her, like she’d asked him if Luna orbited the Earth.

  Then he leaned over and brushed a kiss against her forehead. “Just sort of,” he said. “You know. On a good day.”

  Ninety-Seven

  “All of them?”

  Cinder smiled at Iko’s exuberance. She had already gotten more joy out of the way Iko was beaming at the rows and rows and rows of dresses than she ever would have gotten from the dresses themselves.

  “Every last one,” said Cinder. “I never want to look at them again.”

  She had already spent more time surrounded by Levana than she’d intended. Her perfume, her gowns, her jewelry. She had no interest in her aunt’s wardrobe—but Iko did, so Iko could have them all.

  She had never seen Iko so pleased. Not even when Thorne had brought her that escort-droid body he’d found in the desert. Not even when the shipment from Earth had finally arrived with the spare parts to fix her near-destroyed body. Cinder had told her that with so much damage it would be more cost effective to install her personality chip into a brand-new body. She could have had her pick of any model she wanted. But Iko had refused. She had grown attached to this one, she’d said, and besides—none of her friends’ bodies were disposable, so why should hers be?

  Cinder had no argument for that.

  The only upgrade Iko had requested was a pair of brand-new eyes that changed colors based on her moods. Today her eyes were sunburst yellow. Happy, happy, happy.