Winter

Twenty-Seven

Scarlet was working on this new thing she liked to call not reacting.

It was a skill that by no means came to her naturally. But when she was the one locked inside a cage and her enemy was the one on the outside, jabbering and giggling and generally being buffoons, not reacting seemed like a better habit than screaming obscenities and trying to smack them through the bars.

At least it carried a bit more dignity.

“Can’t you get her to do a trick?” asked the Lunar woman, holding an umbrella of owl feathers over one shoulder, though Scarlet couldn’t guess what she was protecting herself from. According to Winter, they had another six days to go before they saw real sunshine again, and there was no rain on Luna at all.

The woman’s companion leaned over, resting his hands on his knees, and peered at Scarlet through the bars. He was wearing orange sunglasses. Again, Scarlet didn’t know why.

Scarlet, cross-legged on the ground, her hands folded and her hood pulled up past her ears, peered back.

I am a vision of tranquility and indifference.

“Do something,” he ordered.

Scarlet blinked.

He glared at her. “Everyone says Earthens are supposed to be cute and amusing. Why don’t you do a dance for us?”

Her insides writhed, wanting more than anything to show this man how cute and amusing she could be. Outside, however, she was statuesque.

“Are you mute, or just stupid? Don’t they teach you how to address your betters down on that rock?”

I am the essence of peace and calm.

“What’s wrong with her hand?” said the woman.

The man glanced down. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

Her fingers didn’t so much as twitch. Not even the half-missing one.

The woman yawned. “I’m bored and Earthens smell bad. Let’s go look at the lions.”

The man straightened, arms akimbo. Scarlet could see him calculating something in his tiny head. She didn’t think he would try to use his gift on her—no one had manipulated her since she’d been brought to the menagerie and she was beginning to suspect her status as one of the princess’s pets was protecting her from that torture, at least.

He took a step forward. Behind him, Ryu growled.

It was a test of willpower for Scarlet to smother a grin. That wolf had really grown on her lately.

Though the woman glanced back at the wolf’s enclosure, the man kept his attention pinned on Scarlet. “You’re here to entertain us,” he said, “so do something. Sing a song. Tell a joke. Something.”

For my next trick, I will win a staring contest with the moron in orange sunglasses.

Snarling, the man grabbed the umbrella from his girlfriend and closed it. Holding on to the curved handle, he pushed the pointy end through the bars and jabbed Scarlet in the shoulder.

Ryu barked.

Scarlet’s hand whipped upward, her fist wrapping around the feathered fabric. She yanked it toward her and the man stumbled against the cage. She shoved the umbrella’s handle up toward his face. He screamed and reeled back, his glasses clattering to the ground. Blood spurted from his nose.

Scarlet smirked long enough to shove the umbrella out onto the path—there was no point keeping it, as the guards would just take it away. She stifled her smug expression and returned her face to neutral.

This not-reacting thing was working out better than she’d expected.

After cursing and screaming and getting blood all over his shirt, the man grabbed his girlfriend and the umbrella and stormed away, back toward the menagerie’s entrance. They were probably going to rat her out to the guards. She would probably miss a meal or two for her misbehavior.

It was totally worth it.

She met Ryu’s yellow gaze across the way and winked. In response, the wolf raised his nose and howled, a short, joyful sound.

“You’ve made a friend.”

She started. A guard was leaning against a large-leafed tree, arms crossed and eyes steely. He wasn’t one of her normal guards, though there was an air of familiarity to him. She wondered how long he’d been standing there.

“We animals have to stick together,” she said, but then resolved that was as much as he would get out of her. She was not here to entertain the spoiled Lunar aristocrats, and she was certainly not going to entertain one of the queen’s brainless minions.

“Guess it makes sense you’d like that one. He’s related to your boyfriend.”

Her heart thumped. A sense of foreboding stirred in her chest.

Pushing himself off the tree, the guard strolled in front of Ryu’s enclosure. One hand was resting at his belt, on the hilt of a large knife. The wolf froze, standing on all fours like he hadn’t decided whether to trust this stranger or not.

“This one’s father was the wolf they first gathered DNA from when they started experimenting with the soldiers. The queen’s prized arctic wolf. Once an alpha male.” He turned to Scarlet. “But you need a pack to be an alpha, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she deadpanned.

“Take my word for it.” He listed his head, inspecting her. “You don’t know who I am.”

He said it at the same moment her memory clicked. The blond hair, the uniform, his creepy knowledge of Wolf.

Her recognition only made her more wary.

“Sure I do. I can’t get the princess to shut up about you.”

She watched him carefully, curious if Winter’s feelings were even half mutual, but he gave nothing away.

He was handsome, sure enough. Broad shouldered and chisel jawed. But he wasn’t what she’d been expecting. His posture spoke of condescension, his expression disinterest. He was all brambles and icicles as he strode toward her cage.

He was about as opposite of warm, spacey, babbling Winter as she could imagine.

Jacin didn’t crouch or bend down and it was a strain on Scarlet’s neck to look up at him. Her dislike increased.

“I trust she told you about your friends.”

Winter had told her they were alive. That they were coming for her. That Wolf missed her very much.

Now, meeting the infamous Jacin, she couldn’t envision him being the one to make that report.

“I got the message.”

Scarlet wondered if he expected a thank-you, which he wasn’t going to get, given that he was here on Luna, wearing that uniform. Whose side was he on?

Scarlet huffed and leaned back on her elbows. It may not have been as dignified, but she wasn’t about to let this guy intimidate her into a permanent neck ache. “Is there something you needed?”

“Winter thinks you’re a friend.”

“That makes one of us.”

After a beat, he revealed a crack in his armor. The tiniest of smiles.

“What?” she asked.

Rocking back on his heels, Jacin rested his hand on the knife again. “I wasn’t sure what kind of girl could make a special op go ballistic over her. I’m glad to see it’s not the stupid kind.”

She curled her hands into fists. “Also not the kind that buys into empty flattery.”

Wrapping a hand around one of the bars, Jacin finally crouched so they were at eye level. “You know why you’re still alive?”

She gritted her teeth and answered, somewhat begrudgingly, “Because of Winter.”

“That’s right, firework. Try not to forget it.”

“It’s hard to forget when I’m locked up in her cage, sunshine.”

The corner of his mouth crinkled with restrained amusement, but it vanished just as fast. Unnerving. He nudged his chin toward her hand. “When was the last time someone checked that for infection?”

“I know what infection looks like.” She resisted the urge to hide her wounded finger, but there was no way she was showing this guy her finger stub. “It’s fine.”

He made a noncommittal sound. “They say you’re a decent pilot.”

She scowled. “What is this, a job interview?”

“Have you ever flown a Lunar ship before?”

For the first time, he had her full attention, but her curiosity was crowded with suspicion.

“Why?”

“They’re not much different from Earthen ships. Little different layout of the flight controls, smoother liftoff generally. I think you could figure it out.”

“And why would it matter if I can fly a Lunar ship?”

His gaze cut through her, saying more than his words. He stood. “Just be ready.”

“Be ready for what? And why do you care about me, anyway?”

“I don’t,” he said, so casual Scarlet had to believe him. “But I do care about the princess, and she could use an ally.” He looked away. “A better ally than me.”