Authors: Marissa Meyer
* * *
“This is not good,” said the nasally voice Cress had come to think of, somewhat unoriginally, as Sinus, the queen’s moronic computer technician.
Honestly. If Sybil had let her stay on Luna, Cress could have taken over this guy’s job when she was ten.
“This is very, very bad,” he continued, his voice trembling with impending doom.
“Just make it stop,” yelled a deeper masculine voice. Cress was pretty sure it was the same guard who had been stationed outside the hall before.
“I can’t! The video already played. Do you want me to
unplay
it?” Sinus groaned. “She … she’s going to kill me. The queen will have me executed for this.”
Withholding a sigh, Cress tried her best to roll her ankle. A cramp was starting to develop in her left calf and she had a feeling it was going to come on quick if she didn’t have a chance to stretch the muscle soon. She managed to move her ankle a little, but the small movement only reminded her muscles how enclosed they were in this tiny alcove.
The technician knew it was too late. He knew he couldn’t stop the video from playing. Why didn’t he
leave
already?
“Well?” said the guard. “Did she set up any more surprises for us?”
“What more do you need? That video—the queen will be…” He didn’t finish, but Cress sensed the shudder in his voice.
Having seen the video herself at the mansion, Cress knew the vision wouldn’t soon leave them. Levana’s scarred face, her empty eye socket, her nub of an ear. It was not a face one looked away from, no matter how they wanted to. It was not a face one forgot.
And now they’d all seen it. Cress hoped Levana herself had seen it. She suspected it wouldn’t be easy to recover her glamour after a shock like that.
Maybe not, though. Levana had been practicing her deception for a long, long time.
“Have they caught her?” Sinus asked. “The girl who did this? She’s … she really knew what she was doing.”
The comment might have flattered Cress if she hadn’t been so uncomfortable. As it was, she just wanted them to go talk about her elsewhere. She was still gripping the handle of the gun Thorne had given to her, and it had imprinted her palm with painful red grooves.
“That’s not your problem,” the guard growled. “Just get it back to normal. And get rid of that video before—”
He didn’t finish. There was no
before.
They were already in the after.
“I’m trying,” said Sinus, “but the crossfeeds have all been restructured and it could take days to…”
Cress stopped listening, her attention stolen by the cramp in her right calf. She gasped, wrapping her hands around the muscle in an attempt to rub out the tightness.
“What was that?” Sinus asked.
Cress flinched and crawled out of the alcove. The second she was on her feet, she aimed the gun at the technician, then the guard, then back at the technician. For as puny as his voice sounded, she’d been imagining a guy not much older than her, but he looked like he might be in his fifties.
The technician pushed back his chair. The guard reached for his weapon.
“Don’t mo—ah!” Cress grimaced as the muscle in her leg tightened again and she fell into the desk. The corner dug into the hip that was still sore from where the statue had fallen on her in the servants’ halls. Groaning, she reached down to knead the muscles.
Remembering the gun, she started to lift it again, at the same moment the guard snatched it from her hand. Cress cried out and grabbed for it, but the gun was already out of reach. Whimpering, she went back to rubbing the muscle and raised the now-empty hand in exhausted surrender.
The guard kept his own weapon pinned on her.
“I’m unarmed,” she said meekly.
He didn’t seem to care.
“Are you…” Sinus looked from her to the screens. “Did
you
do this?”
“Yes, sir.” She breathed a sigh of relief as the pain began to recede. “And, can I make a suggestion? Because I’ve been listening to you talk and I have to wonder, if you’re sure Levana is going to have you executed for failing to stop the video … have you considered joining the other side?”
They both stared at her.
Fisting her hands, Cress pounded at the sides of her leg. She was going to have to start working on her exercise regimes again after this. Or at least stop hiding in such confined spaces.
“I mean it,” she said. “I happen to know Princess Selene and she’s really nice. She wouldn’t have you executed, especially for something that wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m taking you into custody,” said the guard, grabbing her elbow.
“Wait!” she cried, unable to tug away from his grip. “You’re not even going to think about it? You would choose execution at the hands of Levana over … not execution?”
The guard smirked as he pulled her away from the bank of invisi-screens. “This rebellion is not going to succeed.”
“Yes, it is. Levana will be overthrown and Selene will be our new ruler and—”
She was interrupted by an alarm blaring from a screen on the other side of the control center. The guard swiveled toward the sound, pinning Cress against his chest, as if she were a threat with her cramping leg and puffy orange skirt.
“Now what’s happening?” the guard yelled.
Sinus was already at the warning screen. He stared slack-jawed for a moment, before he muttered, “I think … I think we’re under attack.”
“Obviously we’re under attack!”
Sinus shook his head and enlarged a holograph. Above the glittering domes of Artemisia, a regiment of spaceships had breached neutral space and were moving fast toward the city. “Not from the civilians,” he said. A drop of sweat fell down his temple. “These are militarized Earthen ships.”
They all stared at the ships, watching their blinking lights draw steadily closer. It was Cress who managed to gather her thoughts first. She tried to stand straighter, but the guard had too firm of a grip on her.
“That’s right,” she said, relieved when her voice didn’t tremble. “Princess Selene has allied herself with Earth. If Levana doesn’t surrender, we’re prepared to destroy you all.” She ran her tongue over her parched lips and craned her neck to look at the guard. She hoped she was convincing when she said, “But it’s not too late for you to join the winning side.”
Iko was beginning to comprehend why humans curled into the fetal position when they were afraid. On the ground, on her side, with her nose tucked against her knees and her one good arm flopped over her head, she never wanted to move again. Wolf had bitten her already-damaged arm and she could tell he’d done a fair amount of damage to her abdomen and thighs too, not that they were in great shape to begin with.
What
was
it about her that attracted razor-sharp claws and teeth? Bullets too, for that matter. This was an android injustice that needed to be dealt with as soon as this whole revolution thing was behind them.
A boot stomped inches from her head and she cringed, bundling herself tighter. She didn’t want to get up. She didn’t want to move. She wanted her power cell to wind on down so she could wake fully formed once again, after Cinder had fixed her and—
Cinder.
Cinder didn’t have the option of lying comatose in the middle of her revolution. Cinder was out there, now, in danger.
Whimpering, Iko dared to lower her arm and scan her surroundings. All around, war cries and screams barraged her audio sensor, and the rumble of charging footsteps thundered into her limbs. She peered through the torrent of legs and weapons—first the wolf soldiers, then the men and women from the outer sectors, gripping their spears and knives. All crashing toward the castle as the thaumaturges tried to take control again.
But there were too many, and the wolves were too difficult to control. That’s what Wolf had been telling them from the beginning, hadn’t he? The soldiers were meant to be unleashed on Earth—a scourge of death and terror. They were not meant to be prim, proper, well-organized soldiers.
And there were so many of them. More than Cinder had brought through the tunnels. Iko grimaced as a new regiment of soldiers charged into the fray, teeth gnashing. Grabbing at anyone who moved. All around her, mutants wrestled with one another. Blades slashed across throats. Spears bit into flesh.
“All right, Cinder,” she whispered, forcing herself to sit up. “I’m coming.”
Her internal systems were frayed, her processor a mix of scrambled messages, and she could feel at least two disconnected wires sparking in her stomach. She picked her gun off the ground.
It took forever to find Cinder as Iko weaved in and out of the chaos with her bad arm dangling at her side. She held the gun ready, shooting when she thought she could save someone, ignoring the countless scratches that appeared like magic on her clothes and synthetic skin. What were a few more scratches at this point, anyway? For once she was glad not to have nerve endings. She just hoped her body didn’t shut down on her with all the sustained injuries.
By the time she made it to Cinder, she was out of bullets. Thank the stars, Cinder was staying out of the fight for once. Some of the stone statues lining the courtyard had been knocked over and Cinder was hunkered behind one, watching the battle like she was waiting for the right opportunity to move into it.
Iko slipped down beside her, pressing her back against the statue. “Nice speech earlier.”
Starting, Cinder whipped her head around, nearly taking out Iko’s button nose with an instinctive punch. She froze just in time. Relief clouded her eyes. “You’re all right,” she gasped. “Wolf?”
“May have anger management issues. Scarlet?”
Cinder shook her head. “I lost her.”
An enemy soldier came from nowhere. Cinder pushed Iko aside and shoved the soldier’s head into the statue with her metal fist. The statue cracked, a chunk of stone clattering to the ground, and the soldier collapsed unconscious.
“Cinder, you’re bleeding,” said Iko.
Cinder glanced down at her shoulder, where the wound they’d bandaged up at the mansion had bled through. She looked unbothered by it as she grabbed Iko’s elbow and tugged her into what protective cover the statue could offer. “Levana went back in the palace. I need to get in there.”
“Do you think Kai’s in there too?”
“Probably.”
Iko nodded. “Then I’m going with you.”
A trembling scream drew Iko’s attention back into the skirmish in time to see a woman from the lumber sector turn her own knife on herself and plunge it into her chest. Iko’s eyes widened. She couldn’t look away as the woman dropped to her knees, staring openmouthed at her own traitorous hands.
Beside her, Cinder let out a battle cry and rushed toward a thaumaturge. She grabbed a knife out of a guard’s hand right before he swung and in the same movement—
Iko recoiled. She’d witnessed enough death already, even if this one was an enemy.
“Iko, come on!”
Lifting her head again, she saw Cinder leap over the fallen thaumaturge and keep running, straight for the palace doors. She was still gripping the guard’s knife, but Iko wasn’t sure how much of the blood on it was new.
“Right. We’ll just kill all the bad guys.” Iko looked down at her limp hand, shook it out a little, and watched her fingers wobble uselessly. “Good plan.”
Bracing herself, she rushed into the melee, weaving her way between those fallen and fighting. She caught up with Cinder as she sprinted through the yawning doors of the palace. Iko followed her, then skidded to a stop. Her gaze traveled up and up and up, to the top of the massive goddess sculpture centered in the main hall. “Whoa.”
“
Iko.
”
She found Cinder panting on the other side of the statue, her attention darting one way and then the other. The bloodied knife was still gripped in her whitened knuckles.
“Which way do you think she went?” Cinder asked.
“Down to the spaceship ports so she could run away, never to be seen again?”
Cinder cut her an unamused look.
“Or maybe to call for backup?”
“Maybe. We need to find Kai. Levana will use him against me if she can.”
Iko tugged on a braid, glad that, no matter how bad of a shape her body was in, her hair still looked good. “The coronation was supposed to take place in the great hall. We could start there.”
Cinder nodded. “I don’t have access to the palace blueprints anymore. Can you lead?”
Iko’s internal synapses fired for a few moments before they managed to compute Cinder’s words. She recalled all of their planning and plotting, all the diagrams and maps and strategies they’d drawn up. She raised her good hand and pointed. “The great hall is that way.”
* * *
Scarlet could hear her grandmother’s voice, gentle yet firm, as the battle raged around her. She’d already gone through two magazines and she had seen more claw-torn abdomens and tooth-ripped throats than even her nightmares could have shown her. Still, the soldiers kept coming. She knew they had one regiment on their side, but she couldn’t begin to guess how many of the soldiers were fighting with her and how many against her, and no matter how many fell, more were always there, ready to replace them.
Afraid she might shoot an ally when every blood-soaked civilian looked like an enemy, Scarlet focused on the obvious targets. The thaumaturges in their maroon and black jackets were easy to spot even in the fray. Every time Scarlet felt her conscience creeping up on her—it was a life, a
human life
she was about to take—she would see one of the civilians put a gun to their own head or stab one of their family members to death, and she would pick a thaumaturge whose face was tight with concentration and all her qualms would disappear.
Hold the gun with both hands
, her grandma would tell her.
I know they do it differently in the dramas, but they’re idiots. Line up your target using the front and back sights. Don’t pull the trigger—squeeze it. It will fire when it’s ready.
The thaumaturge in her sight line stumbled back, a dark spot appearing on her red coat.