Winter

Thirty-Three

Wolf helped Scarlet clean and bandage her wounded finger without asking her to tell him what, exactly, had happened. Though his expression had said he was ready to tear out Queen Levana’s jugular, his hands had been breathlessly gentle. Afterward, Scarlet insisted she be given time to bathe, and though Wolf had looked borderline devastated, the time apart was worthwhile. The tiny washroom in his childhood home was by no means luxurious, but it was a far cry from the trough she’d had in the menagerie, and she felt brand-new when she emerged. She and Winter were given new clothes out of Maha Kesley’s meager stash while theirs were washed, though Scarlet was already anxious to have her hoodie back. It had become her own personal armor.

“I can’t believe you kidnapped Prince Kai,” she said, untacking the curtain on the front window to peek outside. Blue daisies in a window box were a solitary spot of color.

“Emperor Kai,” Wolf corrected. He was leaning against the wall, holding the hem of her shirt in his fingers. Winter was taking her turn in the washroom while the others had crowded into the kitchen, trying to cobble together enough food for everyone. Scarlet had heard someone mention rations, and it occurred to her that this tiny household wasn’t meant to support guests, especially so many. Wolf’s mom would be back soon from collecting that week’s supply of food, but of course, that was meant for only one woman.

Scarlet tried to imagine what this must be like for Wolf. To return home more than a decade after being taken away, a grown man with scars and fangs and the blood of countless victims on his hands.

And now … with a girl.

Scarlet was trying not to think about meeting his mother—it all felt too strange.

“Emperor, right.” She retacked the curtain. “That’s weird to say, after eighteen years of listening to celebrity gossip feeds go on and on about ‘Earth’s favorite prince.’” She claimed one of the lumpy sofa cushions, curling her legs beneath her. “I had a picture of him taped to my wall when I was fifteen. Grand-mère cut it off a cereal box.”

Wolf scowled.

“Of course, half the girls in the world probably had that same picture from that same cereal box.”

Wolf scrunched his shoulders against his neck, and Scarlet grinned, teasing. “Oh, no. You’re not going to have to fight him for pack dominance now, are you? Come here.” She beckoned him with a wave of her hand and he was at her side in half a second, the glower softening as he pulled her against his chest.

His brazenness was new—so different from the shyness she’d grown accustomed to. On the Rampion, Wolf was always pattering around his feelings, like he didn’t want to risk the tentative trust they’d started to rebuild since Paris.

Now, when he kissed her or put his arms around her, Scarlet felt like he was staking a claim. Which normally would have sent her on a tirade about relationship independence, except she felt like she’d claimed him a long time ago. The moment she’d expected him to choose her over his pack, the moment she’d dragged him aboard that ship and taken him away from everything he’d ever known, she’d made the decision for them both. He was hers now, just like she was his.

Except she wondered if everything had changed between them, once again. She’d figured he would come back to the farm with her when all this was over, but now he’d been reunited with his mom, the only family he had left. Scarlet could no longer assume she was the most important thing to him, and she knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to choose between her and the family he’d been taken away from. Not now, and maybe not ever.

In the kitchen, a cupboard slammed, saving her from thoughts she wasn’t ready for. Not when she’d just found him again. She heard Thorne say something about freeze-dried cardboard and Iko accuse him of being insensitive to those without any taste buds at all.

Scarlet nestled her head against Wolf’s shoulder. “I was so worried about you.”

“You were worried?” Wolf angled her away from him. “Scarlet—they took you, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I didn’t know if you were dead, or if they were…” He shuddered. “I would have killed every one of them to get to you. I would have done anything to get you back. Knowing that we were coming here was the only thing that kept me sane.” His brow creased. “Though there were a couple times when I went a little insane anyway.”

Scarlet nudged him with her elbow. “That shouldn’t sound as romantic as it does.”

“Dinner is served,” said Thorne, coming out of the kitchen with a plate in each hand. “And by dinner, I mean soggy brown rice and oversalted meat on stale crackers. You Lunars sure know how to live it up.”

“We were trying to only take things from the pantry,” said Cinder, as she and Iko filed into the front room, though there was hardly enough space for everyone. “There isn’t much in the way of fresh food, and Maha’s already given us enough.”

Scarlet glanced at Wolf. “I assumed you’d never had tomatoes or carrots before because those things couldn’t be grown here on Luna, but that’s not the case, is it? They just don’t ship them to the outer sectors.”

He shrugged, without a hint of self-pity. “I don’t know what they can and can’t grow in the agriculture sectors. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can’t compete with Benoit Farms and Gardens.” His eyes twinkled, and Scarlet—to her own surprise—started to blush again.

“You two are giving me a stomachache,” Thorne griped.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the meat,” said Cinder, ripping a piece of dried mystery meat with her teeth.

The food wasn’t appetizing, but it was no worse than what she’d gotten in the menagerie, and Scarlet ate her small share with relish. Winter emerged from the washroom, her dark ringlets still dripping and the too-short pants and ill-fitted blouse doing nothing to lessen her beauty. A hush fell over the group as she joined them, kneeling on the floor around the small table and scanning the food with sad, distant eyes.

Scarlet spoke first, pushing a couple of crackers across the table. “I know it’s not what you’re used to,” she said, “but you have to eat something.”

Offense flashed across Winter’s face. “I’m not particular.” Her expression softened as she stared at the crackers. “I just hadn’t realized how much I’d been given. I knew conditions were bad in the outer sectors, but not as bad as this. Others have gone hungry so my stomach might be full each night.” Sighing, she sat back on her heels and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m not hungry, anyway. Someone else can have mine.”

“Winter—”

“I’m not hungry.” Her voice was sterner than Scarlet had ever heard it. “I couldn’t eat it if I tried.”

Scarlet frowned, but let it go. Wolf eventually ate the crackers, looking guilty about it.

“You said Jacin told you where to find us?” said Cinder. Her shoulders were tense, and it had been clear from the moment Scarlet had explained what she could about their escape that Jacin wasn’t popular with her friends. “How did he know?”

“I would imagine,” said Winter, “that your miniature friend told him.”

“Our miniature friend?” asked Cinder.

Winter nodded. “Cress, isn’t it?”

Silence expanded over them, drawing all the oxygen from the room.

Thorne leaned forward first. “Cress? You’ve seen Cress?”

“I haven’t seen her in days, but Jacin was keeping her safe.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Scarlet dug out the small cylinder. “Jacin gave this to me and said it had a message from a friend in it. Maybe he meant her—Cress?”

Thorne snatched it away before she’d finished talking and flipped the cylinder over in his palm. “What is it? How do we work it?”

Cinder grabbed it away from him and inserted it into the holograph node on the wall. A holograph flickered to life in the center of the room.

Scarlet wouldn’t have recognized the queen’s hacker, having only seen her once through a comm link. The girl’s long, unruly hair had been chopped short and her skin, though still pale, had at least seen the sun in the recent past.

Thorne launched himself from his seat, circling the room to put himself in front of the holograph as she began to speak.

“Hello, everyone. If you’re seeing this, our good friends from the palace must have found you. I wish I could have joined them. My current guardian gave me the option of leaving, but I had to stay behind to assist with their travels. I know you’ll understand. I wanted you to know I’m all right, though. I’m safe and unhurt, and I know you’ll come for me. When you do, I’ll be ready. Until then, I promise to be careful and stay hidden.” She paused. A fleeting smile crossed her lips, like proof of her courage, though her eyes stayed anxious. After a deep breath, she continued, “My absence has probably changed some things for you, and I know you were relying on me for help with some of your plans. I’ve built a program into this file. Insert this cylinder into the universal port in the dome’s broadcast receiver and follow the prompts I’ve set up for you. On the chance this could fall into the wrong hands, I have locked the program with the same passcode we used on the ship.” Her lashes dipped, and there was that weak smile again. “I hope this message reaches you safely. I … I miss you.” She opened her mouth to say more, but hesitated and shut it again. A second later, the message ended.

They stared at the empty air where Cress had been. Scarlet fidgeted with her hoodie’s zipper, knowing for sure now that the girl had been the one watching over her and Winter during their escape. She had saved them, and sacrificed her own safety to do it.

“Brave, stupid girl,” Thorne muttered. He sank back down to the floor, his expression torn between relief and increased distress.

“She’s still with Jacin, then,” said Cinder. “I guess … I’m grateful for what he’s done, but … I don’t like him knowing where we are, or being responsible for Cress. I don’t trust him.”

Winter stared at her, aghast. “Jacin is a good person. He would never betray you, or Cress.”

“Too late,” said Thorne. “He already did once.”

Winter laced her fingers together. “He regrets betraying you. It was never his intention. He only … he had to come back to Luna. For me.”

Iko made a noise that was probably meant to be a snort. Scarlet cocked her head to inspect the android. What had been endearing tics when she had been the Rampion’s control system were a little disconcerting in her humanoid body.

“It’s true,” Winter insisted, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I understand why you don’t trust him, but he’s trying to make amends. He wants to see you back on your throne as much as anyone.”

“He did save my life,” added Scarlet. Then, after a pause, she shrugged. “Probably just because he needed me to save her life, but still, it has to count for something.”

Thorne crossed his arms and said grudgingly, “I wish he would have tried a little harder to send Cress with you.”

“At least we know she’s alive,” said Cinder.

Thorne grunted. “All we know is she’s still in Artemisia and under the protection of a guy who betrayed us once. The princess thinks he’s on our side? Fine. But that doesn’t change the fact he sold us out in New Beijing, and I don’t doubt he’ll do it again if it means saving his own skin.”

“On the contrary, he cares very little for his own skin.” Winter’s voice was sharp, her shoulders trembling. “It is my safety alone that he cares about, and I will never be safe again so long as my stepmother is the queen.” She turned to Cinder. “I believe he will do anything he can to help your revolution succeed. We both will.”

A long silence was followed by Thorne grumbling, “I still plan on punching him if I ever see him again.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes.

Cinder tapped her fingers against the table. “I don’t understand why Levana tried to have you killed now. She has Kai. She’s getting what she wants.”

“I believe she’s afraid of losing her grip on Luna,” said Winter, “especially with the rumors that our true queen is still alive. She’s become paranoid, afraid of every potential threat.”

Cinder shook her head. “But you’re not her real daughter. Isn’t there some superstition about bloodlines?”

“Yes. Only a person of royal blood can sit on Luna’s throne. It is believed that should a person of nonroyal blood ascend to the throne, the gift bestowed upon our people will cease to exist. There have been countless studies proving this.”

Scarlet laughed. “Let me guess—the studies were paid for by the royal family.”

“Does it matter?” said Winter. “Whether the people believe it or not, my stepmother is frightened. She’s desperate to maintain her power. That is why she tried to kill me.”

“Good,” said Cinder. “People make mistakes when they’re desperate, and trying to kill you could be a big one.” She leaned back on her hands. “From what I can tell, the people adore you. If they knew Levana tried to have you murdered, it could be just the thing to persuade them to choose me over her. Listen, Your Highness—we have a video. If Cress’s program works, we’ll be able to play it across all outer sectors. It will tell the people who I am and ask them to join me in ending Levana’s reign.” She inhaled. “I’d like to include a message from you, to show the people you’re alive and tell them Levana was the one who tried to have you killed. Having your support would mean a lot. To them, and to me.”

Winter held her gaze for a long time, considering, before she sighed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Levana would find out, and she can’t know I’m alive.”

“Why not?” said Scarlet. “The people care about you. They deserve to know the truth.”

“Jacin was ordered to kill me,” said Winter, her voice growing weak, “and he went through a lot of trouble to make it look like he succeeded. I won’t endanger him by announcing the truth. The longer she goes on believing that Jacin is loyal to her, the safer he’ll be.” She looked up again. “The safer your Cress will be too.”

Thorne looked away.

“I’m sorry that I can’t help you with this. For what it’s worth, you do have my support, even if it must be a secret.” Winter slumped. Scarlet could see her withdrawing into herself and her worries over Jacin’s safety. She wished she could offer some comfort, but she had spent enough time under Levana’s thumb to know there was nothing she could say that would make Winter feel any better.

“All right,” Cinder conceded. “I understand. We’ll just have to hope the video succeeds without you.”

The front door opened and they all started. Scarlet spun around as a woman shut the door behind her. She wore coveralls dusted with regolith particles and was carrying a worn wooden box full of food. She had Wolf’s dark hair and olive-toned skin, but she also had the bone structure of a bird. Wolf could have crushed her with his fingertips.

Scarlet felt weird for having such a thought.

Everyone relaxed. Everyone but Scarlet and Wolf, whose arm turned to iron around her.

Leaning against the door, Maha surveyed the room with a fluttery smile. “They were giving out sugar,” she chirped, “in celebration of the queen’s upcoming…” She trailed off, noticing Scarlet with Wolf’s arm across her shoulders.

Winter stood up, drawing Maha’s surprise to her. Scarlet scrambled to her feet, but Maha’s attention was caught on the princess now. Her jaw had fallen.

Winter curtsied. “You must be Mother Kesley. I am Princess Winter Hayle-Blackburn, and I’m frightfully sorry about the crackers.”

Maha stared, speechless.

“I hope you don’t mind our intrusion into your hospitality. Your wolf cub welcomed us. He’s surprisingly tender, given the teeth. And the muscles.” Winter raised her eyes to the chipping plaster around the door. “He rather reminds me of another wolf I once knew.”

Scarlet grimaced.

“Your … Your Highness,” stammered Maha, looking like she wasn’t sure if she should be afraid or honored.

“Mom,” said Wolf, “this is Scarlet. She’s the one we told you about—that was taken off our ship by the thaumaturge. She’d been held prisoner in the palace, but she’s … she escaped. This is her. This is Scarlet.”

Maha had not yet managed to pull up her jaw. “The Earthen.”

Scarlet nodded. “Mostly. My grandfather was Lunar, but I never met him. And I have no … um, gift.”

With that statement, it occurred to Scarlet that Maha probably did have the gift. They all did to some degree, didn’t they? Even Wolf had had it, before the scientific tampering took it away.

But it was impossible to imagine this petite woman abusing it like it was abused in the capital. Was that naïve? How hard it must be to navigate society here, never knowing who was controlling and who was being controlled.

“Hello, Scarlet,” said Maha, composing herself enough to smile. “Ze’ev failed to mention he was in love with you.”

Scarlet could feel her cheeks turning as red as her hair.

Thorne muttered, “How could you not tell?”

Cinder kicked him.

Wolf gripped Scarlet’s hand. “We didn’t know if she was alive. I didn’t want to tell you about her if … if you never met her…”

Scarlet squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

In the back of her head, she heard her grandma’s voice, reminding her of her manners. “I’m so pleased to meet you. I … um. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Maha set the box of rations by the door and crossed the tiny room, wrapping Scarlet up in a hug. “I look forward to getting to know you.” Releasing Scarlet, she turned back to Wolf and settled her hands on his shoulders. “When they took you away, I feared you would never know love at all.” She embraced him, and her smile was as bright as a bouquet of blue daisies. “This has all been so much. So very much.”

“Are we almost done with the gushing and the weeping?” said Thorne, massaging his temple. “When do we start planning a revolution again?”

This time, it was Iko that kicked him.

“I knew you were in love with him.” Winter tapped her fingers against her elbow. “I can’t understand why no one ever listens to me.”

Scarlet glared, but there was no ire behind it. “You’re right, Winter. It’s a complete mystery.”