Winter

by Marissa Meyer

  “You won’t mind seeing them on me, will you?” asked Iko, pulling a slinky orange piece off its hanger and holding it against her chest.

  “Not if they make you that happy.”

  “Where will I wear them?” Before Cinder could answer, she waved her hand. “Never mind. Where wouldn’t I wear them?” Hanging the slinky dress back up, Iko scanned the wardrobe again. Her eyes darkened—more buttercup now, with a tinge of lime around the edges. “I think I feel guilty.”

  “Guilty?”

  Huffing, Iko planted her hands on her hips. Her concern lasted for a few moments before she beamed again. “I know. I’ll choose my ten favorites and sell the rest on escort-droid costuming feeds. We can use the proceeds to build schools in the outer sectors, or something charitable like that.” Fingering a fine lace sleeve, she glanced at Cinder. “What do you think?”

  If Cinder’s eyes reflected her moods, they would have been sapphire-blue proud. “I think that’s a great idea.”

  Iko beamed and started working her way through the racks again, narrowing down her favorites, while Cinder turned to face her reflection in the mirror that had been loaned to her from one of the Earthen spaceships. She was still getting used to seeing herself looking so … queenly.

  Her own gown was brand-new. Although she had intended to wear one of Winter’s dresses again, a few Artemisian seamstresses had pleaded to be allowed to design her coronation dress, proclaiming what an honor it would be. Cinder hadn’t even known she had expectations until the dress surpassed them.

  Done up in Luna’s official colors of white, red, and black, the gown was made of more material than she’d ever seen in her life. The heavy white skirt draped around her like a bell, with a massive train that would follow her down the long, long aisle. Red and black gems were beaded along the skirt’s hem and woven through the bodice. A modest neckline with capped sleeves fit her perfectly.

  She had expected the seamstresses to also make gloves to cover her cyborg hand, but they didn’t. “No gloves,” one of the seamstresses said when she asked. “And no veil.”

  A knock drew her attention to the door and the guard, Kinney, entered. “Your Majesty,” he greeted. His respectful expression turned sour as he addressed Iko, “Madame Counselor.”

  Iko’s eyes went coppery with pride at her new title, even though she met the guard with a sour glare of her own.

  “Yes, Kinney?” said Cinder.

  “The captain and his crew are requesting an audience.”

  “Ha!” Thorne’s voice carried from the corridor. “I told you I could get him to call me the captain.”

  Cinder rolled her eyes. “Let them in.”

  They poured in before Kinney could admit them, all grinning and dressed formally for the occasion. Even Wolf was wearing a suit, though Cinder couldn’t imagine it had been easy to find one to fit his altered body on such short notice. His red shirt matched Scarlet’s stunning red dress, the fabric clashing spectacularly with her hair. Thorne was in a tuxedo and bow tie. He came in pushing Cress along on her floating contraption—Cinder had heard that her wounds were healing well and she was expected to be walking in short bursts by the end of the week. She was wearing one of Winter’s gauzy yellow dresses, hemmed to fit her. Jacin was in his guard uniform, but had replaced the normal shoulder armor with dashing epaulets, making him almost prince-like beside Winter, who was even more breathtaking than usual in a white gown that would have looked plain on anyone else. Kai followed the group in a black dress shirt with a mandarin collar.

  He was carrying a silver platter topped with a round, single-tiered cake covered in swirls of pale yellow frosting. Cinder knew immediately that it wasn’t from the royal pastry chefs, whose creations were almost too immaculate to touch. This cake, with its messy frosting and lack of decoration, was remarkably unpretentious.

  With a bow, the guard slipped out the door. Iko stuck her tongue out at his retreating back.

  “What’s going on?” said Cinder. “The coronation starts in twenty minutes. You should all be seated by now.”

  “It was my idea,” said Iko, bouncing on her toes. “I knew you’d be nervous, so I thought we’d have a celebration first.”

  “And you made a cake?”

  “Scarlet did,” said Thorne.

  Scarlet brushed her hair off her shoulder. “It’s a lemon cake. My grandmother’s special recipe. But”—her gaze swooped down Cinder’s dress—“you might want to wait until after the coronation so you don’t get frosting all over yourself.”

  Winter snorted and grabbed the tray away from Kai. “Let’s not be cruel. One should never save cake for later when it can be eaten now.” She slid the cake onto a priceless silk divan.

  “I’ve never had cake before,” said Cress, drawing plenty of surprised looks. She was holding Thorne’s hand, but for once she didn’t shrink closer to him, even being the center of attention.

  Iko crossed her arms. “Can we please not start listing all the wonderful, marvelous food we’ve never had?”

  “That settles it, then,” said Thorne. “Who brought the silverware?”

  No one had, so Jacin offered his dagger instead. They took turns cutting off bite-size chunks of cake and frosting and eating it with their fingers until the cake resembled little more than the crater-pocked surface of the moon.

  Naturally, Cinder got some on her gown—a smear of yellow frosting on the enormous skirt. She was mortified until Iko adjusted the skirt so the folds would hide it.

  “It was inevitable,” Iko said with a wink. “It’s part of your charm.”

  Cinder started to laugh, but was startled into silence by a sudden hiccup in her chest.

  She looked around, at the smiles and the arms draped over shoulders and Winter daintily licking buttercream from her fingers. At the homemade cake. A gathering of friends. A celebration, for her. They were silly things to be floored by, but she couldn’t help it. She’d never had these things before.

  Gratitude swelled behind her sternum, and though she was still nervous—still terrified—she realized that she felt lighter than she had in days.

  “Your Majesty?”

  She looked up. Kinney had returned.

  “It’s time.”

  Cinder gulped and stood, her heart thumping. The festive mood turned serious.

  Wolf, who had been holding the knife last, gobbled down a few extra bites before passing the knife back to Jacin. Jacin took one look at the frosting- and crumb-covered blade and stuck it back in the cake for safekeeping.

  “I’m ready,” said Cinder. Breathing became difficult as the dress constricted against her stomach. “I am ready, aren’t I?”

  “Hold on.” Iko turned Cinder to face her. “Smile.”

  Cinder gave her a nervous smile, and Iko nodded proudly. “Nothing in your teeth. I’d say you’re ready.”

  Her friends gathered around her, pulling her into embrace after embrace.

  Until she reached Kai, who wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her. He tasted like lemon frosting.

  Thorne whistled. Iko swooned. The kiss ended too quickly.

  “What was that for?” Cinder whispered against him.

  Kai scooped his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the queen’s chambers. “I was just thinking about the good future,” he said. “The one with you in it.”

  * * *

  The official coronation of Queen Selene Channary Jannali Blackburn was in some ways an intimate affair, and in others an intergalactic sensation. Cinder had held a lottery for tickets so all of Luna’s sectors would be represented, and all the guests combined made for a crowd a few hundred strong, which barely filled up half the seats that had been set out for Levana and Kai’s ceremony a few weeks prior.

  The footage was broadcast, not only to every sector on Luna but also to all Earthen newsfeeds that chose to run it. It became the most viewed netfeed of the third era.

  While Cinder walked down the endless black-carpeted aisle, she
tried not to think of all the people in the universe who were watching her. She tried not to wonder whether they were judging her or admiring her, afraid of her or impressed by her. She tried not to guess how many saw her as a lost princess or a pathetic cyborg, a vigilante or a criminal, a revolutionary or a lowly mechanic that had gotten lucky.

  She tried not to think about the smear of yellow frosting on her priceless gown.

  Kai and Winter stood at the altar encased in the light of glowing orbs, Winter holding the queen’s crown and Kai a ceremonial scepter. Together, they represented how both Earth and Luna would accept her right to rule. The rest of her friends were in their reserved seats in the front row. Thorne, on the aisle, held out his hand as Cinder passed. She snorted and accepted the high five before floating up the stairs.

  Winter winked at her. “Well done, Cinder-friend. You didn’t trip. The hard part is over.”

  Kai gave a smile meant for only Cinder, even though the entire universe was watching. “She’s right, that really is the hard part.”

  “Thank the stars,” Cinder whispered back. “Now let’s get this over with.”

  Taking in a long, shaky breath, she turned to face her kingdom.

  * * *

  The blood had been scrubbed from the throne room floor, but the room was still a disaster. Toppled chairs and broken rails, cracked tiles and wall panels where bullets had hit them. Even the throne itself had a fracture in the stone from when Cinder had tried to shoot Levana. It smelled of chemicals and bleach from the cleaning.

  The horrors of the rebellion were starting to fade. Not, perhaps, for those who had lost friends and family, and Cinder knew there was still so much to be done in order for Luna to pick up the pieces of Levana’s rule. But they were eager to start picking up those pieces right away.

  She’d begun compiling councils made up of both members from the Artemisian court and nominated citizens from the outer sectors to begin bridging the gap between the classes and figuring out how best to reallocate funds and labor. Already the “families” and the thaumaturges were starting to fight against her, but that was all right. It would take time, but they would adjust.

  She’d been sitting on her throne in the silent, chemical-filled air for what could have been hours, watching the city of Artemisia shimmering before her and Earth turning above the horizon.

  The doors opened. Kai poked his head in and Cinder tensed, feeling guilty to be caught on the throne—even if it was her throne—all alone in the darkness.

  “There you are,” he said.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m kind of hiding. Would you believe that when you’re royalty, it is really difficult to find a moment of privacy?”

  Smirking, Kai shut the door behind him. He kept a hand behind his back as he came toward her. “Might I suggest getting yourself a hooded sweatshirt? It makes a surprisingly adequate disguise.” He paused when he spotted Earth over the balcony, all beautiful and enormous in the dark sky. “That’s quite a view.”

  Cinder nodded. “Not to justify what Levana did, but I can kind of understand why she wanted it so much.”

  When Kai said nothing, she slid her gaze back to him and she knew what he’d come there to say. Her heart sank. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  He turned away from the view. “In two days. Two Earthen days.” He frowned apologetically. “I’ve been gone for too long already.”

  She tried to smother the despair that knocked into her. Kai would be gone. Thorne, Cress, Wolf, and Scarlet had already left, and Winter and Jacin would be leaving on their first ambassadorial trip in the next few days, and then she would be alone.

  Well, she and Iko would be alone.

  She’d been expecting it. She had known he couldn’t stay forever. He had his own country to rule.

  “Right,” she said, feigning confidence. “I understand. You’ve been a huge help, you and Konn-dàren. Is … is he leaving too?”

  Kai grimaced. “He is. I’m sorry.”

  “No. You … you have to go home. Of course you do.”

  “You should come visit,” he said, speaking fast. “Soon. It would be symbolic, I think, of the new alliance…” He trailed off and scratched behind his neck, one hand still hidden. “Or I could make up a political dilemma we need to work through if that would help.”

  Cinder forced a smile. “I’d like to come visit. I’m … Iko and I are going to miss you.”

  “I think you’ll find that being a queen doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for being lonely.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Suddenly, it felt awkward to be sitting on her throne while Kai stood below her. She stood and crossed her arms over her chest, drifting toward the balcony ledge. Anxiety was already growing inside her. Two days. Two more days and he’ll be gone.

  There was so much she wanted to say to him, and two days wasn’t enough time to get it all out—especially when all the words remained locked up in her throat.

  “It’s strange,” Kai said, joining her on the glass overhang, his gaze fixed on Earth again. “I spent all that time trying to avoid a marriage alliance with Luna. And now that the treaty is signed and the war is over … somehow, a marriage alliance doesn’t sound so bad.”

  Her heart flipped. Kai’s gaze danced back to her and then he was smiling in a way that was both bashful and confident. The same smile he’d given her the day they’d met in the marketplace. After a long, awkward moment, he laughed. “You really can’t blush, can you?”

  A mix of relief and disappointment rolled through her and she tucked her hands under her arms to hide their shaking. “That wasn’t nice.”

  “Only if you think I didn’t mean it.”

  Her brow twitched.

  “Here, I have something for you.”

  “It had better not be an engagement ring.”

  He paused, his lips puckering as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him and he was regretting it.

  “Or gloves,” added Cinder. “That didn’t work out too well last time.”

  Grinning, Kai took a step closer to her and dropped to one knee.

  Her eyes widened.

  “Cinder…”

  Her heart thumped. “Wait.”

  “I’ve been waiting a long time to give this to you.”

  “Kai—”

  With an expression as serious as politics, he pulled his hand from behind his back. In it was cupped a small metal foot, frayed wires sticking up from the cavity and the joints packed with grease.

  Cinder released her breath, then started to laugh. “You—ugh.”

  “Are you terribly disappointed, because I’m sure Luna has some great jewelry stores if you wanted me to—”

  “Shut up,” she said, taking the foot. She turned it over in her palms, shaking her head. “I keep trying to get rid of this thing, but somehow it keeps finding its way back to me. What made you keep it?”

  “It occurred to me that if I could find the cyborg that fit this foot, it must be a sign we were meant to be together.” He twisted his lips to one side. “But then I realized it would probably fit an eight-year-old.”

  “Eleven, actually.”

  “Close enough.” He hesitated. “Honestly, I guess it was the only thing I had to connect me to you when I thought I’d never see you again.”

  She slid her gaze off the foot. “Why are you still kneeling?”

  Kai reached for her prosthetic hand and brushed his lips against her newly polished knuckles. “You’ll have to get used to people kneeling to you. It kind of comes with the territory.”

  “I’m going to make it a law that the correct way to address your sovereign is by giving a high five.”

  Kai’s smile brightened. “That’s genius. Me too.”

  Cinder pulled her hand away from him and sat down, letting her legs hang over the edge. Her thoughts grew serious again as she stared at the metal foot. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to get your opinion on.”

  Kai settled beside her. His expressi
on turned curious, and she looked away, bracing herself. “I think—” She stopped. Gulped. Started again. “I’ve decided to dissolve the Lunar monarchy.”

  Pressing her lips together, she waited. The silence became solid in the space between them. But Kai didn’t ask “Why?” or “How?” or “Are you insane?”

  Instead, he said, “When?”

  “I don’t know. When things have calmed down. When I think they can handle it.” She took in a deep breath. “It will happen again. Some king or queen is going to brainwash the people, use their power to enslave them … There has to be some division of power, some checks and balances … so I’ve decided to change Luna into a republic, elected officials and all.” She bit her lip. She still felt silly talking politics like she had a clue, and it wasn’t until Kai nodded, thoughtful, that she realized how important his approval had been to her. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “You think it’s a good idea?”

  “I think it will be difficult. People don’t like change, and even the citizens who were oppressed under Levana immediately accepted you as their new queen. Plus, they have that whole superstition thing about the royal bloodline. But … I think you’re right. I think it’s what Luna needs.”

  She felt as though an entire moon had been lifted off her shoulders.

  “What will you do then? After you abdicate?”

  “I don’t know. I hear Thorne is looking for a full-time mechanic.” She shrugged, but Kai went on looking pensive. “What?”

  “I think you should come back to the Commonwealth. You could stay in the palace, as a Lunar ambassador. It would be a show of good faith. Proof that Earth and Luna can work together, coincide together.”

  Cinder chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I thought the people of the Commonwealth hated me,” she said. “For the kidnapping. And all that other stuff that happened.”

  “Please. You’re the lost princess that saved them from the reign of Empress Levana. I heard there’s a toy company that wants to make action figures of you. And they want to put up a statue where your booth used to be at the market.”