Winter

Sixty-Two

Winter sat on a rough-hewn bench, watching the last chips of ice thaw around her feet. She plunked her toes against the shallow puddle that had formed, amazed at how everything about it could be so real—the crackling, the cold—even when she knew it wasn’t.

Sighing, she raised her head, weary as she was, to watch the haphazard training sessions happening all down the dusty street. Maneuvers and tactics, a hundred trained soldiers doing their best to build an army. She scanned the crowd for Scarlet’s flaming hair, not sure where her friend had gone off to.

Instead of seeing Scarlet, her gaze caught on something else entirely. A head of pale hair near the back of the crowd.

Her heart lurched.

Inhaling a shaky breath, she pulled herself from the bench, but he was already gone.

Her gaze darted over all the faces, searching. Hoping.

She clenched her fists at her sides, willing away the sudden rush of euphoria. It was her desperation causing her to see phantoms. She missed him so much. She still didn’t know if he was even alive. She supposed it was to be expected that she would see his face in every crowd, around every corner.

There—she saw it again. Sunshine-bright hair tucked back behind his ears. Broad shoulders disguised in the clothes of the sector laborers. Blue eyes that pinned her to the ground even as her entire body tingled. Air flooded her lungs. He was alive. He was alive.

But Jacin raised a finger to his lips, halting her before she could run to him. Ducking his head in an effort to minimize his height, he skirted around a group of laborers and slinked toward the forest. He glanced back once and, with a subtle jerk of his head, disappeared into the shadows.

Palms damp, Winter looked around for Scarlet, but she was nowhere to be seen. No one was watching her. She slipped away, newly energized, and traipsed in between the slender tree trunks.

She would circle around through the woods and meet Jacin halfway. She would throw herself into his arms and she didn’t care if he thought it was appropriate or not.

Up ahead she could hear the bubble of the central fountain.

“Princess.”

Winter startled. In her haste, she’d walked right past the old woman without even seeing her. Though she was an ancient creature with a crooked back, she had a liveliness to her expression. She was holding a basket filled with twigs and bark gathered from the forest floor.

“Yes, hello,” Winter said in a rush, dipping into a quick curtsy. Her gaze was already traveling on, searching for blond hair and a teasing smile. She saw nothing. The trees were hiding him from her.

“You’re looking for a handsome young man, I believe.” The woman’s wrinkles tightened into something like a smile.

Winter started to nod, but stopped herself. “Did someone come through here just now?”

“Just your prince, my dear. No need to be shy. He’s very handsome, isn’t he?” She herself stood no taller than Winter’s collarbone, though that was partly due to the crook in her spine. Winter wondered how many years of hard work weighed upon those shoulders.

“He asked me to give you a message.”

“He did? Jacin?” Winter glanced around again. “But where did he go?”

“He said not to follow him. That it’s too dangerous, and he’ll find you when it’s safe again.” She tilted her head, gazing down the row of orderly trees, to where the alphas were yelling their orders.

Winter tried to stifle her disappointment. He could not have waited for a smile, a kind word, a quick embrace? “Why aren’t you with the others?”

The woman shrugged her shoulders, with some effort. “Someone said we could use wood scraps. I cannot do much, but I can assist in that way.”

“Of course,” said Winter. “We all must do what we can. Allow me to help you.” She took the basket from the woman.

The woman held up a finger, her arm no longer burdened. “I almost forgot. Your prince left you a gift.” Digging through the basket, she found a plain box buried beneath the twigs. “He said these are your favorites.”

Winter’s heart leaped as she took the box in her palm. She knew what it was without opening it and her heart expanded. She couldn’t imagine the trouble Jacin had gone through to get these for her. All so she would know he was thinking about her?

Unless there was more to it than that.

Unless there was a message.

Chewing the corner of her lips, she lifted the lid. There, inside, were two pristine sour apple petites, fresh from the confectioner’s window.

“My, but those look tasty,” said the old woman, craning her head to peer inside. “I haven’t had one of those since I was a little girl. Apple, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” Winter held the box toward her. “Please, take one. With my gratitude for delivering them.”

The woman pondered the offer. “If you insist … I suppose one little bite won’t kill me. I’ll take this one, if you’re sure you don’t mind. See, it has a crack in the shell, not fit for a princess.” Her eyes were daring as she took the candy between her fingertips. “But only if you eat the other. It would be the greatest honor to share this bounty with Your Highness—the beautiful Princess Winter herself.”

“You are too kind.” Winter lifted the second candy from the box. She scanned the inner lining, hoping for some clue Jacin may have left for her, but she saw nothing.

Still. It was a gift. Not only the candies, but to have seen him from afar. To know he was all right.

She placed the candy between her teeth. The woman was watching her, mimicking her movements, and together they bit down. Winter felt the crack of the brittle shell before it melted against her tongue.

The old woman smiled, bits of crimson-colored filling stuck in her teeth. “This has been more satisfying than I could have imagined.”

Winter swallowed. “I’m glad. It’s been my pleasure to … to…”

She blinked, catching a tinge of familiarity in the way the woman watched her. At the particular curve of her grin—something haughty and brimming with contempt.

“Is something wrong, my dear child?”

“No. No. For a moment you reminded me of someone. But my eyes play tricks on me sometimes. They’re not very reliable.”

“Oh, sweet, stupid child.” The kink in the woman’s back began to straighten. “We are Lunars. Our eyes are never reliable.”

Winter shriveled back. The basket slipped from her hold, crashing to the ground.

Before her, Levana shed the guise of the old woman, a snake shedding its skin.

“My researchers assured me the disease would act quickly,” said the queen, her cold eyes roving over Winter’s skin. Curious. Delighted.

Winter’s thoughts spun, puzzling out the truth from the illusion. Her whole life had been spent puzzling out truths from illusions.

Where was Jacin? Why was Levana here? Was this another nightmare, a hallucination, a trick?

Her stomach kicked. She felt ill.

“The infected microbes are being absorbed into your bloodstream even at this very moment.”

Winter placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the devoured candy roiling inside her. She pictured her heart, her arteries, her platelet-manufacturing plant. Little red soldiers marching down their conveyor belts. “Microbes?”

“Oh, don’t worry. Young and able-bodied thing that you are, it should be an hour or two still before you begin to show symptoms. A rash of blood-filled blisters will erupt on your perfect skin. The tips of your delicate fingers will shrivel and turn blue…” Levana grinned. “I do wish I could be here to witness it.”

Winter peered through the forest, toward her allies. Levana would stop her if she tried to run. She wondered if she could get out a scream before Levana sewed shut her lips.

“Thinking of warning your friends? Don’t worry. I’m going to let you go, little princess. I will let you return to them and infect them yourself. They made a mistake when they chose you over me, and that will be their undoing.”

She faced her stepmother again. “Why do you hate me?”

“Hate you? Oh, child. Is that what you think?” Levana placed her cool fingers on Winter’s cheek, over the scars she’d given her years before. “I don’t hate you. I am merely annoyed at your existence.” Her thumb caressed Winter’s cheek. “From the day you were born, you had everything I ever wanted. Your beauty. Your father’s love. And now, the adoration of the people. My people.” She drew her hand away. “But not for long. Your father is dead. Your beauty will soon be tarnished. And now that you are a carrier of the blue fever, any citizen who comes close to you will soon come to regret it.”

Winter’s stomach dropped. She imagined she could feel the disease being absorbed through the lining of her stomach. Seeping into her veins. Each beat of her heart pushed it further through her system. It was a detached sort of knowledge. Of all the tortures she had seen her stepmother devise for others, there was something merciful about this death. A slow, calm acceptance.

“You could have their adoration too, you know,” she said, watching as Levana’s condescending smile hardened to her face. “If you were kind to them, and fair. If you didn’t trick them into being your slaves. If you didn’t threaten them and their loved ones for every minor crime. If you shared the riches and the comforts we have in Artemisia—”

Her tongue stilled.

“I am queen,” Levana whispered. “I am the queen of Luna and I will decide the best way to rule my people. No one—not you, and not that hideous cyborg—will take this from me.” She lifted her chin, nostrils flaring. “I must go tend to my kingdom. Good-bye, Winter.”

Stumbling back, Winter turned toward the people. If she could see just one person, get off one warning …

But then the forest closed in around her and she collapsed, unconscious, to the ground.