Текст книги "Cress"

Автор книги: Marissa Meyer

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Aimery’s expression remained neutral. “My mistake. Perhaps I should have said that we have many wealthy, crown-sanctioned families who enjoy the occasional holiday.”

They held each other’s gazes for a long moment, while the holographic oceans sparkled beneath the sun, while the white clouds swirled through the atmosphere.

“I don’t know why Queen Levana has chosen to threaten us at this time and in this manner,” Kai finally said, “but it is an unnecessary show of force, and one that trivializes all that we are attempting to accomplish with our peaceful negotiations. I want these ships to return to Luna within the next twenty-four hours.”

“And if Her Majesty refuses?”

Kai’s fingers twitched, but he forced them to relax. “Then I cannot take responsibility for the actions of the rest of the Union. After the Lunar attacks that occurred on the soil of all six Earthen countries, it would be within the jurisdiction of any one of my peers to meet this blatant threat of war with their own show of force.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. You did not say before that these Lunar ships had entered into the territorial boundaries of the Earthen Union. Surely, if Her Majesty was aware that we have intruded into your legal atmospheric space, she would have them removed at once.” He leaned forward, showing a flash of white teeth. “You are insinuating that Luna has trespassed into your legal boundaries, aren’t you?”

This time, Kai couldn’t keep his hands from curling into fists beneath the desk. “At this time, they are outside the territorial boundaries. But that does not—”

“So you’re saying Luna has committed no crime as laid out by the Union’s own laws? Then how, exactly, would a show of force against these ships be warranted?”

“We will not be bullied into accepting any more of your demands,” said Kai. “Her Majesty must know that she is already walking a very narrow tightrope. My patience is wearing thin and the Union is tired of bowing to Levana’s every whim, only to have her gratuitous displays of power thrown into our faces again and again.”

“Queen Levana has no more demands to make of you,” said the thaumaturge. “The Commonwealth has been exceedingly accommodating to our requests, and I find it unfortunate that you see the presence of these thus-far peaceful Lunar ships as threatening.”

“If they aren’t there to send us a message, then why are they there?”

Aimery shrugged. “Perhaps they are waiting for the finalization of the peace alliance between Luna and the Commonwealth. After all, once Her Majesty has signed your Treaty of Bremen, peaceful travel between our two nations will be made possible—even encouraged.” He smirked. “And the Commonwealth really is so beautiful this time of year.”

Kai’s stomach writhed as the thaumaturge uncrossed his legs and stood. “I trust that will be all, Your Majesty,” he said, tucking his hands into his wide red sleeves. “Unless you also wanted to discuss the approved symphony numbers to be played during the wedding feast?”

Flushing, Kai pushed himself off his chair and turned off the holograph. “This is not the end of this discussion.”

Aimery politely listed his head. “If you insist, Your Majesty. I will inform my queen that you wish to discuss this matter with her in due course—though perhaps it would be prudent to wait until after the ceremony? As it is, she is quite distracted.” He bowed, and when he stood tall again, his face had taken on a taunting grin. “I will be sure to give my queen your love next I speak with her.”

Kai was shaking with rage by the time Aimery strode out of his office. How was it that Lunars didn’t even have to use their mind powers, and they still drove him mad every time he talked to them?

He had the sudden urge to throw something, but the portscreen he was holding belonged to Torin, so he kindly passed it back to his adviser instead. “Thanks for all your help,” he muttered.

Torin, who hadn’t said a word during the meeting, loosened his necktie. “You did not need my help, Your Majesty. I could not have argued your points any better than you did.” He sighed and clipped the port to his belt. “Unfortunately, Thaumaturge Park made all very sound points himself. In the eyes of intergalactic law, Luna has not yet committed a crime. At least, not in the case of these ships.”

“Maybe the intergalactic laws need to be revisited.”

“Perhaps, Your Majesty.”

Kai collapsed back into his chair. “Do you think he was just trying to get a rise out of me, or are all those ships really going to invade the Commonwealth once the alliance is forged? Somehow, I’d just assumed Levana would be content to call herself empress. I didn’t think she’d want to bring her whole army here and let them make themselves right at home.” Saying the words out loud made him flinch with how naïve he sounded. Kai cursed beneath his breath. “You know, I’m beginning to think I entered into this marriage thing a bit hastily.”

“You made the best decision you could at the time.”

Kai rubbed his hands together, attempting to dispel the feeling of vulnerability the thaumaturge’s presence had given him. “Torin,” he said, sliding his eyes toward his adviser, “if there was a way to avoid this marriage and keep us from going to war and get that antidote … you would agree that that would be the best course of action, wouldn’t you?”

Torin lowered himself slowly into the chair that the thaumaturge had vacated. “I’m almost afraid to ask, Your Majesty.”

Clearing his throat, Kai called for Nainsi. A second later, her short, glossy-white body appeared in the doorway. “Nainsi, have you found anything new?”

As she approached the desk, her sensor flashed, once at him, and once at Torin. “Permission clearance for Adviser Konn Torin requested.”

Torin’s eyebrow jutted up, but Kai ignored it. “Clearance granted.”

Nainsi came to a stop beside the desk. “I’ve run a full report on Michelle Benoit, including a detailed timeline of her activities, occupations, achievements, and military service, and biographical information on eleven persons who seemed close enough to warrant attention. My data retrieval system is broadening the search to neighbors and potential acquaintances beginning in the year 85 T.E.”

“Who is Michelle Benoit?” Torin asked, in a tone that suggested he didn’t really want to know the answer.

“Michelle Benoit was born in 56 T.E.,” said Nainsi, “and is noted most for her twenty-eight years of service in the European Federation armed forces, twenty of which were served as wing commander. She received a Distinguished Service Medal for piloting the diplomatic mission to Luna in the year 85 T.E. The mission included—”

“We think she might have something to do with Princess Selene,” Kai interrupted, tapping some fast instructions into the built-in netscreen on his desk. A moment later, a satellite photo of farmlands in southern France appeared across the screen. “She owns this farm”—he pointed to a dark spot, where the ground had been recently scorched—“and this field is where Cinder landed the first time she returned to Earth, right before the attack. So, we assume that Cinder believes that Michelle Benoit is attached to the princess as well.”

Torin’s face darkened, but he seemed to be withholding judgment until Kai finished. “I see.”

“Nainsi, have you found anything useful?”

“Useful is a subjective term relative to the actions that are taken prior to receiving information and the resulting—”

“Nainsi. Have you found anything relevant?”

“Relevant to what?” said Torin. “What are you hoping to find?”

“Princess Selene.”

Torin sighed. “Again?”

“Yes. Again,” said Kai. He gestured toward the sky. “Aren’t you the one who told me we had to try to stand up against Levana?”

“I didn’t mean by chasing ghosts.”

“But think about it. She’s the true heir to the Lunar throne. You honestly don’t think finding her would give us an advantage?”

Torin’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but to Kai’s relief, he seemed to be considering the question. “I don’t want you to be distracted from the things that are truly important.”

Kai snorted. “The important things, like jade centerpieces and whether my wedding sash should have flying bats or a pair of cranes embroidered on it?”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“Clearly.”

Rubbing his forehead, Torin eyed Nainsi for a long moment, before casting his gaze toward the ceiling. “Your Majesty. According to Linh Cinder’s own warnings, Queen Levana already means to murder you because you were attempting to find the princess before. What will her retaliation be when she realizes you haven’t stopped?”

“It doesn’t matter—she already intends to kill me, so what else can she do? And Princess Selene would be the true heir. Her existence would negate any claim Levana has to her throne.”

Torin dropped his shoulders. “And you think that by finding a girl who’s, what? Fifteen years old?”

“Sixteen.”

“A sixteen-year-old girl. You believe that finding her is what the Commonwealth needs right now, more than anything else?”

Kai gulped, but his answer was solid. “I do.”

Torin settled back in his seat, resigned. “All right. Fine. I won’t try to dissuade you.” He eyed Nainsi again, this time with distrust, as if this were all the android’s fault. “Please, continue.”

Nainsi launched back into her report. “Michelle Benoit disappeared from her farm on 11 August; her identity chip was left in her home, having been removed from her wrist. Evidence did not indicate whether or not there had been a struggle. Two weeks later, her granddaughter, Scarlet, who had lived with Benoit for eleven years, traveled from their home in Rieux, France, to Paris. Tracking records indicate she was in Paris for two days before her identity chip went off the grid. Presumably, the chip was removed and destroyed. Timeline cross-examination indicates that her ID chip was last seen near an abandoned Paris opera house, at the same time that a nearby scan-bank machine recorded what appears to be the landing and takeoff of a 214 Rampion. Satellite feeds, however, picked up no such spaceship at that location. Deductive reasoning leads me to believe that this was the ship on which Linh Cinder is hiding and that Scarlet Benoit may have boarded the ship at that time.”

Kai frowned and was glad when even Torin looked intrigued by this information.

“Cinder made a special trip to Paris for this girl?”

“My logic aptitude suggests this is a possibility.”

“What else do we know about this … Scarlet?”

“According to her ID records, she came to live with Michelle Benoit in 115 T.E., two years after the recorded death of Princess Selene. Her birth date indicates that she is eighteen years old. However, there is no hospital record of Scarlet Benoit’s birth, and her data was not input until she was four years old, so we cannot confirm the validity of any of her records.”

“You lost me.”

“Scarlet Benoit was not born in a hospital. Neither was her father, Luc Raoul Benoit. Without official records, we must treat any information about their births as circumspect. It is possible that everything we know about Scarlet Benoit is false information.”

Kai pressed his hands onto the desk. “Are you saying there’s a chance this girl, this Scarlet Benoit … is really Princess Selene?”

“It is a possibility that cannot be proved or disproved at this time, but I have found no evidence to warrant a dismissal of this hypothesis.”

Kai filled his lungs, feeling that he hadn’t taken a full breath in weeks. “And Cinder knows it. Cinder figured it out … and now … she has her. Cinder’s found the princess.”

“Your Majesty,” said Torin, “you are jumping to some large conclusions.”

“But it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Torin scowled. “I will withhold my opinion on the matter until we have some information that is based on more than speculation.”

“Android speculation,” Kai said, pointing at Nainsi. “It’s better than regular speculation.”

He pushed himself out of his chair and began to pace in front of the grand picture window. Princess Selene was alive. He just knew it.

And Cinder had found her.

He almost laughed.

“I’m surprised to see you taking this all with such good humor, Your Majesty,” said Torin. “I would think you would be horrified with this turn of events.”

“Why? She’s alive!”

“If this girl is the missing princess, then she is currently being held captive by a dangerous felon, Your Majesty.”

“Wha—Cinder’s not dangerous!”

Torin seemed unexpectedly furious as he, too, launched himself to his feet. “Have you forgotten that she’s Lunar? She is a Lunar who had contacts working within this very palace. She coerced you—the most protected person in the country—into giving her a personal invitation to our annual ball, then infiltrated it with, I can only assume, the intention of provoking Queen Levana. She escaped from a high-security prison and has managed to evade capture by our entire military, which ultimately led to an attack that killed thousands of Earthens. How can you possibly say she isn’t dangerous?”

Kai straightened his spine. “Levana attacked us—not Cinder.”

Groaning, Torin rubbed his fingers over his temples. It had been a long time since Kai had seen that expression on his adviser. The expression that indicated he thought Kai was a moron.

Indignation flared inside him. “And for the record, she declined my invitation to the ball. She only came to warn me. And Dr. Erland…” He hesitated. He still didn’t know what to think about her relationship with Dr. Erland. “Levana wants her killed. I don’t see that we’ve given her much choice other than to run.”

“Your Majesty, I worry that your … your feelings for this girl are causing a bias that could jeopardize your ability to make logical decisions where she’s concerned.”

Kai’s face grew warm. Was he so transparent?

“I’m still trying to find her, aren’t I? I still have half the military out searching for her.”

“But are you trying to find her, or this princess?”

He gestured at Nainsi. “If they’re together, what does it matter? We can find them both!”

“And then you will give Luna a new queen, and Linh Cinder will be pardoned?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Is that such a horrible thing to hope for?”

“She’s still one of them. You’ve said yourself that she lied to you about everything. What do you know about her? She stole an ID chip out of a dead girl’s wrist. She helped a known thief escape from prison. Do I need to go on?”

Cringing, Kai spun back to face the window, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. He hated that every word Torin had said was indisputable—while every hope Nainsi had given him was based on vague observations and hazy guesses.

“I understand that you feel partially responsible for condemning her to execution,” Torin said, his tone growing gentler. “But you have to stop idolizing her.”

“Idolize—” Kai faced him again. “I don’t idolize her.”

Torin gave him a speculative look, until Kai began to grow uncomfortable.

“I might admire her sometimes, but even you have to admit that it’s pretty impressive what she’s done. Plus, she stood up to Levana at the ball. You weren’t impressed by that? Just a little?”

Torin buttoned his suit jacket. “My point, Your Majesty, is that you seem to be putting an awful lot of faith in a girl you know virtually nothing about, and who has caused us all a great deal of trouble.”

Kai scowled. Torin was right, of course. He didn’t know anything about Cinder, no matter how much he felt that he did.

But he was the emperor. He had resources. He may not know much about Cinder, but if she could find out about the lost Lunar princess, then he could find out more about her. And he knew just where to start looking.

Twenty-Three

This time when Cress awoke, it was not sand engulfing her—although there was plenty of that—but arms. Thorne had pulled her against him so close that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest and his breath on the back of her neck. She groggily peeled her eyelids open.

Night had fallen. The moon had returned, larger than the night before and surrounded by a sea of stars that winked and glittered at them.

She was deathly thirsty and couldn’t find any saliva to wet her parched tongue. She started to shiver, despite the layers of sheets and blankets and the parachute and the heat rising off her scorched skin. Despite Thorne’s protective warmth.

Teeth rattling, she nestled against him as much as she could. His embrace tightened around her.

She looked up. The stars were moving, swirling over her head like a whirlpool trying to suck the whole planet into its depths. The stars were taunting her. Laughing.

She shut her eyes tight, and was met with visions of Sybil’s cruel smile. News headlines echoed in her head, spoken in a child’s nasally voice. 14 CITIES ATTACKED … LARGEST MASSACRE IN THIRD ERA … 16,000 DEATHS …

“Cress. Cress, wake up.”

She jolted, still shaking. Thorne was hovering above her, his eyes bright with moonlight.

He found her face, pressed his palm to her forehead, and cursed. “You’re running a fever.”

“I’m cold.”

He rubbed her arms. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not going to like this, but we need to get up. We need to keep moving.”

They were the cruelest words he could have said. She felt impossibly weak. Her whole body seemed to be made of sand that would blow apart with the slightest breeze.

“Cress, are you still with me?” He cupped her cheeks in both hands. His skin was cool, soothing.

“I can’t.” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth when she spoke.

“Yes, you can. It will be better to walk at night when it’s cool than to try and move during the day. You understand that, right?”

“My feet hurt … and I’m so dizzy…”

Thorne grimaced. She thought of stroking her fingers through his hair. In all the pictures she’d seen of him, even his jail pictures, he’d been so polished, so neat. But now he was a wreck, with whiskers on his chin and dirt in his hair. It did not make him any less handsome.

“I know you don’t want to keep going,” he said. “I know you deserve a rest. But if we just lie here, you might never get up.”

She didn’t think that sounded so awful. As the sand began to rock beneath her, she pressed her hand against his chest, seeking out the steadying heartbeat. She sighed happily when she found it. Her body began to dissolve, little grains of sand scattering.…

“Captain,” she murmured. “I think I’m in love with you.”

An eyebrow shot up. She counted six beats of his heart before, suddenly, he laughed. “Don’t tell me it took you two whole days to realize that. I must be losing my touch.”

Her fingertips curled against him. “You knew?”

“That you’re lonely, and I’m irresistible? Yeah. I knew. Come on, Cress, you’re getting up.”

Her head dropped into the sand, sleep threatening to take over. If he would just lie down beside her and take her into his arms, she would never have to get up again.

“Cress—hey, no more sleeping. I need you. Remember the vultures, Cress. Vultures.”

“You don’t need me. You wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for me.”

“Not true. Well … only kind of true. We’ve already been over this.”

She shuddered. “Do you hate me?”

“Of course not. And you should stop wasting your energy talking about stupid things.” Scooping an arm beneath her shoulders, he forced her to sit up.

She gripped his wrist. “Do you think you could ever love me back?”

“Cress, this is sweet, but aren’t I the first guy you’ve ever met? Come on, up you go.”

She turned her head away, dread pressing down on her. He didn’t believe her. He didn’t understand how intensely she felt.

“Oh, spades and aces and stars.” He groaned. “You’re not crying again, are you?”

“N-no.” She bit her lip. It wasn’t a lie. She certainly wanted to cry, but her eyes were all dried up.

Thorne pulled a hand through his hair, knocking away a cloud of sand. “Yes,” he said firmly. “We are obviously soul mates. Now please, stand up.”

“You’ve probably told lots of girls you loved them.”

“Well, yeah, but I would have reconsidered if I’d known you were going to hold it against me.”

Misery washing over her, she crumpled against his side. Her head spun. “I’m dying,” she murmured, struck by the certainty of it. “I’m going to die. And I’ve never even been kissed.”

“Cress. Cress. You’re not going to die.”

“We were going to have such a passionate romance, too, like in the dramas. But, no—I’ll die alone, never kissed, not once.”

He groaned, but it was out of frustration, not heartbreak. “Listen, Cress, I hate to break this to you, but I am sweaty and itchy and haven’t brushed my teeth in two days. This just isn’t a good time for romance.”

She squeaked and tucked her head between her knees, trying to get the world to stop turning so fast. The hopelessness of their situation was crushing her. The desert would never end. They would never get out. Thorne would never love her back.

“Cress. Look at me. Are you looking at me?”

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled.

Thorne hesitated. “I don’t believe you.”

Sighing, she pried her head up so she could peer at him through the curtain of chopped hair. “I’m looking at you.”

He crouched close to her and felt for her face. “I promise, I will not let you die without being kissed.”

“I’m dying now.”

“You are not dying.”

“But—”

“I will be the judge of when you are dying, and when that happens, I guarantee you will get a kiss worth waiting for. But right now, you have to get up.”

She stared at him for a long moment. His eyes were surprisingly clear, almost like he could see her back, and he didn’t flinch before her skeptical silence. He didn’t grin nonchalantly or offer a teasing follow-up. He just waited.

She couldn’t help it when her attention drifted down to his mouth, and she felt something stir inside her. Resolve.

“Do you promise?”

He nodded. “I promise.”

Shuddering at the pain that awaited her, she braced herself and held her hands out to him. The world tilted as he hoisted her up and she stumbled, but Thorne held her until she was steady. Hunger gnawed at her empty stomach. Pain bit into her raw feet, shooting up through her legs and into her spine. Her whole face contorted, but she ignored it the best she could. With Thorne’s help, she retied the sheet around her head.

“Are your feet bleeding?”

She could barely see them in the darkness, and they were still wrapped in the towels. “I don’t know. They hurt. A lot.”

“Your fever might be from an infection.” He handed her the last bottle of water, now half full. “Or you’re dehydrated. Drink all of that.”

She paused with the water bottle already tipped against her mouth, carefully, so as not to lose a single drop. It was a tempting offer. She could drink it all and still be thirsty, but …

“All of it,” said Thorne.

She drank until she could stop without her throat crying for more. “But what about you?”

“I’ve had my fill.”

She knew it wasn’t true, but her tolerance for selflessness lessened with every gulp and soon she’d done as he asked and drank it all. She stood wavering on her feet with the bottle turned up to the sky, hoping to capture another drop, until she was sure there was nothing left.

She swooned, longingly placing the empty bottle into the blanket-sack on Thorne’s shoulder. Peering at the horizon, she spotted the mountainous shadows, still so far away.

Thorne picked up his cane and she forced herself to take in three solid breaths before she started, hoping they would give her courage. She estimated the amount of steps it would take to reach the next sand dune, and then began counting. One foot in front of the other. Warm air in, warm air out. The fantasy of being a brave explorer had long since dissipated, but she still clung to the knowledge that Thorne was relying on her.

She plodded up the dune as her teeth began to chatter again. She stumbled twice. She tried to call up comforting daydreams. A soft bed, a worn blanket. Sleeping in well past the sunrise, in a softly lit room where flowers grew outside the windowsill. Waking up in Thorne’s arms. His fingers stroking the hair off her brow, his lips pressing a good-morning kiss against her temple …

But she couldn’t hold on to them. She had never known a room like that, and the hard-earned visions were too quickly overshadowed by pain.

One dune came and went. She was already panting.

Two dunes. The mountains lingered tauntingly in the distance.

Each time they topped one, she would focus on the next. We’ll just crest that hill, and then I’ll sit for a minute. Just one more …

But instead of letting herself rest when the goal was reached, she chose another and kept going.

Thorne didn’t comment when she slipped and landed on her knees. He just picked her up and set her back on her feet. He said nothing when her pace slowed to a mere crawl, so long as they didn’t stop. His presence was reassuring—never impatient, never harsh.

After ages of delirious, mind-numbing progress through the sand, when she felt as though every limb were about to fall off, the sky to the east began to brighten, and Cress realized that the landscape was changing. The sand dunes were becoming shorter and shallower and, not far in the distance, they seemed to end in a long, flat plain of rocky red soil, dotted with scarce, prickly shrubs. Beyond that began the foothills of the mountains.

She glanced at Thorne and was surprised to catch the evidence of exhaustion etched into his features, though he replaced it with steadfast determination as they came to a stop.

She described the sight as well as she could.

“Can you guess how long it will take to reach those shrubs?”

She estimated, unable to bury the panic that it would turn out to be another illusion and that the respite of sand and swells would flee farther away with every step they took. “No.”

He nodded. “That’s all right. We’ll try to get to them before it gets too hot. We might be able to get some dew off their branches.”

Dew. Water. Even just a lick, just a taste … never again would she snub a single muddy gulp.

She started again, her legs screaming with the first few steps, until they began to numb again to the endless walking.

Then her eye snagged on something big and white, and she froze.

Thorne crashed into her, and Cress would have collapsed if he hadn’t wrapped his arms around her shoulders, steadying her.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s … an animal,” she whispered, afraid to startle the creature that stood at the top of the dune.

It had already seen them and was staring serenely at Cress. She tried to place it with what she knew of Earthen wildlife. A goat of some sort? A gazelle? It had slender white legs atop enormous hoofs and a rounded belly that showed the edges of ribs. Its calm face was tan with swaths of black and white, like a mask around its eyes. Two towering spiral horns twisted up from its head, doubling its height.

It was the first Earthen animal she had ever seen, and it was beautiful and regal and mysterious, watching her with dark, unblinking eyes.

For a moment, she imagined that she could speak to it with her mind, ask it to lead them to safety. It would recognize the goodness inside her and take pity, like an ancient animal goddess sent to guide her to her destiny.

“An animal?” Thorne said, and she realized he’d been waiting for her to further explain what she was seeing.

“It has long legs and horns and … and it’s beautiful.”

“Oh, good, we’re back to this, then.” She could hear the smile in his tone, but she dared not take her gaze from the creature, lest it dissolve into the air like a phantom.

“Could mean there’s a water source nearby,” Thorne mused. “We should keep going.”

Cress took a tentative step forward. She felt the slip of sand more keenly than she had before, and recognized just how clumsy she and Thorne were, stumbling and scrambling over the dunes, while this creature stood so elegant and calm.

The creature tilted its head, not moving as Cress inched closer.

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until the beast’s eyelids flickered and it turned its head toward something on the other side of the dune.

The crack of a gunshot rang out across the desert.

Twenty-Four

The creature balked and tumbled down the dune, blood dribbling from the wound in its side. Cress cried out and fell backward. Thorne pulled her down into the sand. “Cress! Are you all right?”

She was shaking, watching as the animal fell and rolled the rest of the way, gathering clumps of sand on its hide. She wanted to scream, but any noise was paralyzed inside her, and she could think of nothing but that the animal had wanted to say something to her and now the world was tilting and fading and she was going to be sick and there was blood in the sand and she didn’t know what had happened and—

“Cress! Cress!”

Thorne’s hands were on her, searching, and she realized dully that he thought she had been shot. She grabbed his wrists, holding them tight and trying to convey the truth through her grip when words wouldn’t come to her.

“I’m—I’m all—”

She paused. They both heard it. Panting, along with the slip and scramble of footsteps.

Cress cowered, pressing into Thorne’s embrace as terror washed over her. A man appeared at the top of the dune, carrying a shotgun.

He saw the animal first, dying or dead, but then spotted Cress and Thorne from the corner of his eye. He yelped, barely keeping his balance, and gaped at them. His eyebrows disappeared beneath a gauzy headdress. His brown eyes and the bridge of his nose were all she could see of his face, the rest of him covered in a robe that draped nearly to his ankles, protecting him from the harsh desert elements. Beneath the robe peeked a pair of denim pants and boots that had long been sun bleached and caked with sand.

He finished his own inspection of Cress and Thorne and lowered the gun. He began to speak and for a moment Cress thought that the sun and exhaustion had driven her mad after all—she didn’t understand a word he said.

Thorne’s grip tightened on her arms.

For a moment, the man stared at them in silence. Then he shifted, his eyebrows lowering and revealing flecks of gray in them.

“Universal, then?” he said, in a thick accent that still made it a struggle to capture the words. He scanned their ragged clothes and sheets. “You are not from here.”