Authors: Marissa Meyer
“What?”
“Nothing.” Cinder shook her head. There were too many problems to fix, too many puzzles to solve. The mystery of Garan’s device would have to wait. “I just can’t imagine how Levana would have even known about the device in the first place, that’s all.”
“I told her.”
Cinder snapped her head toward the door, where Jacin was standing as still and quiet as the door frame itself, sporting a decent-size bruise on his jaw, compliments of Thorne. “
You
told her?”
“Information has value. I traded that piece for my life.”
It was always difficult to read Jacin’s emotions, but if Cinder had to guess, she would have thought he was incensed over making such a trade. She remembered telling Jacin about the device, ages ago, in the little oasis town of Farafrah. His face had taken on a curiosity that bordered on hunger when he learned there was an invention that could prevent a Lunar from using their gift and prevent their gift from driving them mad.
She stifled a gasp.
Winter.
Of course.
Jacin jerked his chin toward the hallway. “I hate to rush you, but the crown just released a new video that you might be interested in seeing. Evidently you’re dead.”
He and Iko led her to the mansion’s home theater, with enormous lounging chairs that each had a built-in beverage dispenser on its side. Thorne and Cress were standing beside a larger-than-life holograph depicting Levana. She was wearing her veil, but the sound was muted. The enormity of it made Cinder recoil.
“Jacin says they found my body?”
Thorne gave her a passing glance. “That’s the word, corpse girl. You were dredged up from the lake last night. They even have this mannequin thing with a painted metal hand and they keep showing a grainy photo of it. Stay around a while—you’ll see. It keeps looping with this speech from Levana. They have the most boring entertainment on this rock.”
“What is she saying?”
Thorne’s voice pitched high in imitation of the queen. “The impostor of my beloved niece is vanquished … Let us put this messiness behind us while we go forward with the coronations … I am a psychotic, power-hungry nut basket and my breath smells really bad under this veil.”
Cinder snickered. She tried to check the time with her internal clock before remembering it no longer worked. “How long until the coronation?”
“Nine hours,” said Iko.
Nine hours.
They’d been in this mansion for an entire day and night and Cinder had been asleep for most of it.
“There’s also the ticker…” Cress pointed to the holograph, where a list of sectors was trekking across the bottom, making a constant floating ring around Levana.
“That’s the interesting part,” said Thorne. “She’s passed an edict that any sector found in violation of curfew or suspected of assisting ‘the impostor’ will be barricaded, to be dealt with on a case-by-case basis after the coronation. Then she goes on some spiel about repentance and begging their queen for mercy.”
“It seems a lot of people were motivated by your stunt at the wedding feast,” said Jacin. “The number of barricaded sectors keeps growing.”
“How many?”
“Eighty-seven at last count,” said Cress.
“Including RM-9,” added Thorne, “and every sector in its immediate surroundings. Rather than discouraging the rebellion, the raid there seems to have angered people even more.”
Eighty-seven at last count.
“And you think they’ve all … that all these sectors…” Cinder swallowed. Her head still felt foggy. “What do we think this means?”
“It means the queen is having a bad day,” said Jacin.
Thorne nodded. “Some of it could be her own paranoia, but even when Iko and I were trying to get into Artemisia there were rumors of some sectors blockading their own tunnels to keep supplies out of the city, or looting their factories for weapons, that sort of thing. And that was before your trial. Of course, we don’t know if the people believe you’re really dead, but I’m not sure it matters at this point. If you’re alive, then you’re one hell of a revolutionary. If you’re dead, then you’re one hell of a martyr.”
“It sort of matters to me,” Cinder said, watching the ticker scroll by.
Eighty-seven sectors had been ready to fight for her—for themselves. From what she’d seen, each sector housed at least a thousand civilians, and sometimes many times that. That should be more than enough to overwhelm the capital and overthrow Levana …
Except all those people were trapped.
“Don’t faint,” said Thorne.
She looked at him. “What?”
“You look stressed out.”
Glowering, Cinder started to pace. “Can we do something about these barricades? The people can’t come to our aid if they’re confined to their own sectors.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” said Thorne, “we are so far ahead of you. Cress?”
Cress pulled up the holograph of Luna they’d spent a lot of time studying aboard the Rampion—all the domes and subway tunnels laid out on the moon’s rocky, cratered surface. She had been tagging the barricaded sectors as they were listed on Levana’s broadcast. It was still only a fraction of all the sectors on Luna, but then, it was possible there were plenty more sectors in uprising that Levana didn’t know about yet.
Levana was focusing on those sectors closest to Artemisia, which made sense. No wonder she was nervous—the revolution had already crept up to her doorstep.
Cress adjusted the holograph, zooming in on Artemisia, then the palace.
“The barricade controls are a part of the main security network that operates out of the palace’s security center,” said Cress. “I could hack them remotely, but not without raising alarms. At least, not with the amount of time I have to do it. So…”
“We thought we’d break in,” said Thorne. He had claimed one of the lounge chairs and kicked up his feet.
“Of course you did,” said Cinder.
“We got into New Beijing Palace, we can get into this one. From there, Cress undoes the barricades on the outer sectors and schedules the security barriers around the central dome to open at the end of the coronation.” He filled an expensive-looking goblet with a blue drink from the chair’s dispenser and took a big gulp. “It’s the best way to coordinate a surprise attack and make sure everyone is entering Artemisia at the same time, even if we have no way of communicating with one another.”
Cress pulled back the holograph’s focus, highlighting the eight maglev tunnels that were the only passages in and out of the city—excepting the spaceship ports.
Cinder massaged her wrist. “It’s too risky to send you in. I’d rather Cress remove the barricades remotely, even if it does raise alarms.”
“That makes two of us,” said Thorne, “but that’s not the only reason we need to get into the palace. We also need access to the queen’s broadcast room if we want to do anything with that video of yours. Levana disabled all outside access to the system after your last stunt, so if we want to project it over the whole system, we have to do it from inside.”
Cinder inhaled sharply. “Is the video … is it worth it?”
“Oh!” Iko clapped her hands to her face. “It’s
horrifying
!”
Thorne grinned. “It’s a jackpot.”
“I’ll load it on the projector,” said Cress, turning toward the holograph node.
“Please, no,” said Iko, “we don’t need to see it that big again.”
Cinder tapped her foot. “How are you proposing we get into the palace? I can glamour all four of us as coronation guests if we wanted to sneak in—”
“Cool those engines, jet plane,” said Thorne. “You already have a job. While Cress and I are clearing the passages into the city, you, Iko, and Jacin are going to be stationed in these three sectors”—he indicated them on the holograph, three of the domes adjacent to Artemisia Central—“or at least in the tunnels underneath them, welcoming all those rebels you’ve stirred up and organizing what last-minute battle plan we can. In approximately nine hours, with any luck, this city is going to be under siege by a whole lot of angry Lunars. They’re going to need someone to lead them.”
“That’s you,” Iko clarified.
“But I thought this dome was cordoned off? How are we supposed to get out to those sectors if we’re stuck in here?”
“There are storage units not far from here,” said Jacin, “where some of the families keep recreational vehicles, including terrain speeders.”
“Terrain speeders?”
“Vehicles made for going outside the domes. They can adjust to the unmodified gravity and atmospheric conditions and handle difficult terrain. Dunes. Craters. Rich people use them for sport. They’re not as fast as ships, but we can bypass the shuttles and cut a direct route to the nearest sectors, anywhere that has external dock access. Levana won’t care about a couple nobles out for a joyride.”
“We’re splitting up,” said Cinder.
Iko wrapped an arm around Cinder’s waist. “Only temporarily.”
“It’s our best hope for coordinating an attack,” said Thorne, “and getting as many people in front of that palace as possible, which is the whole point, isn’t it? Strength in numbers?”
Cinder’s heart was galloping again, but she managed a nod. She was studying the holograph again when an anomaly caught her eye. “What’s wrong with that sector?” she asked, pointing to one that was tinged red on the map.
Cress spun the holograph and brought the sector into focus. “LW-12, lumber and wood manufacturing. Quarantined?”
“Like a disease quarantine?” Cinder asked.
“That’s all we need,” Thorne muttered.
But Jacin was shaking his head. “It’s been a long time since we had an outbreak of any sort of disease on Luna. There aren’t many environmental influences that we can’t control.” He crossed his arms. “We do have measures in place in case something happens, though. With the domes confined like they are, it wouldn’t take much to take down a whole community if a disease was bad enough.”
“Could it be letumosis?” Iko asked, a tinge of fear vibrating in her voice.
“That’s an Earthen disease,” said Jacin. “We’ve never had any cases here.”
“It’s not just an Earthen disease,” said Cinder. “Not anymore. Dr. Erland discovered a mutated strain in Africa, remember? Lunars may not be immune anymore, and…” She gulped. “And a whole lot of Earthens just arrived on Luna. Anyone could be a carrier. One of the diplomats, or even one of us. We might not even know it.”
Jacin gestured to the holograph. “Have any of you gone into a lumber sector lately?”
Cinder pressed her lips.
“That’s what I thought. I doubt any of your political friends have, either. It’s probably a coincidence.”
“Actually,” said Cress, pulling her wide-eyed gaze away from her portscreen, “one of us has been there.” She input a new command, transferring the feed she was watching up to the holograph.
It was a collection of the queen’s surveillance videos, all labeled LW-12. They were dark and grainy, but as Cinder’s eyes adjusted she could see rows of trees in the outside shots and wood-paneled walls on the interiors. She focused on one of the more crowded feeds, which appeared to be inside a medical building, although it was nothing like the sleek, shiny laboratories of New Beijing.
There were so many people, taking up what few beds there were while others curled against walls or collapsed in corners.
Stepping closer to the image, Jacin enlarged one of the feeds, zooming in on a rash of blue-and-red rings across one patient’s throat, then to the bloodstained pillow beneath another patient’s head.
“It does look like letumosis,” Cinder said, gut spasming with instinctive fear.
“Are those what I think they are?” asked Iko, pointing.
“Lunar soldiers,” Cress confirmed, enlarging one of the outside feeds that showed dozens of mutant men standing among the citizens. Many seemed caught up in a fervent conversation. Cinder had never seen them when they weren’t in attack mode, and if it wasn’t for their deformed faces, they would have looked just like, well, really big, scary men.
Then she spotted someone who was even more shocking than the mutants. A girl with red hair and a hooded sweatshirt and hands settled stubbornly on her hips. “Scarlet!”
Very much alive and very much unafraid of the predators surrounding her. In fact, as she watched, Scarlet seemed to be bossing them around, pointing her finger toward the main doors of the clinic. Half a dozen of the soldiers nodded at her and left.
“I don’t compute,” said Iko.
Thorne laughed, as jovial as Cinder felt. “What’s to compute? They did say they were going to build an army.”
“Yes, but Scarlet wasn’t with us in the desert. How could
she
be a carrier of the new strain of the disease?”
Cinder started. “You’re right. She could have … picked it up from one of us?”
“None of you are sick.”
She had no answer. She wished Dr. Erland was here, but he had died from the same disease he’d been trying to eradicate.
“What’s that they’re carrying out of the clinic?” asked Thorne.
Jacin crossed his arms. “A suspended-animation tank.”
Four soldiers had the tank hefted between them, while others propped open the main doors of the med-clinic for them to pass through. Outside, hundreds of civilians had gathered—those who weren’t already sick. The soldiers pushed them back to make room for the tank.
Jacin inhaled sharply and stepped up beside the holograph, bringing the feed into focus. He paused. Scrolled back. Zoomed in closer.
“Oh, no,” Cinder whispered. Another familiar face was encapsulated beneath the tank’s glass lid. Princess Winter.
There were no mirrors in the lab, not even in the tiled room with the sterilizing shower Wolf had been taken to in order to wash the sticky gel out of his hair. He didn’t need a mirror, though, to know what they’d done. He could see the difference in his bone structure when he looked at his hands and feet. He could feel the difference in his protruding mouth, his enlarged teeth, his malformed jaw. They’d altered his facial bone structure, making way for the row of implanted canine teeth. There was a new curvature to his shoulders and an awkward flex of his feet, which looked more like paws now, made for running and bounding at great speeds. His hands were enormous, now fixed with reinforced, claw-shaped fingernails.