Текст книги "Cress"

Автор книги: Marissa Meyer

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Thorne waved, bumping the doctor’s tool away from him. “Can you fix them?”

Dr. Erland huffed and set the tool down on the counter that ran the length of the Rampion’s medbay. “Of course I can,” he said, sounding insulted. “The first step will be to collect some bone marrow from the iliac crest portion of your pelvic bone. From that, I can harvest your hematopoietic stem cells, which we can use to create a solution that can be externally applied to your optic system. Over time, the stem cells will replace your damaged retinal ganglion cells and provide cellular bridges among the disconnected—”

“A-la-la-la-la, fine, I get it,” said Thorne, covering his ears. “Please, never say that word again.”

Dr. Erland raised an eyebrow. “Cellular? Hematopoietic? Ganglion?”

“That last one.” Thorne grimaced. “Bleh.”

The doctor scowled. “Are you squeamish, Mr. Thorne?”

“Eye stuff weirds me out. As does any surgery regarding the pelvic bone. You can knock me out for that part, right?” He lay back on the exam table. “Do it fast.”

“A localized numbing agent will suffice,” said Dr. Erland. “I even happen to have something that should work in my kit. However, while we can harvest the bone marrow today, I don’t have the instruments necessary to separate the stem cells or create the injection solution.”

Thorne slowly sat up again. “So … you can’t fix me?”

“Not without a proper lab.”

Thorne scratched his jaw. “All right. What if we skipped the whole stem cells, injection solution thing, and just swapped my eyeballs out for some cyborg prostheses instead? I’ve been thinking how handy X-ray vision could be, and I have to admit, the idea has kind of grown on me.”

“Hmm. You’re right,” said Dr. Erland, eyeing Thorne over the frames of his glasses. “That would be much simpler.”

“Really?”

“No.”

Thorne’s mouth twisted into a frown.

“At least now we know what’s wrong,” said Cress, “and that it can be fixed. We’ll figure something out.”

The doctor glanced at her, then turned away and set about organizing the medbay cabinets with the equipment they’d taken from his hotel. He seemed to be making an attempt to hide any emotions aside from professional curiosity, but Cress got the impression that he didn’t care much for Thorne.

His feelings toward her, on the other hand, were a mystery. She didn’t think he’d met her eye once since they’d left the hotel, and she suspected he was ashamed about the whole purchasing-Lunar-shells-for-their-blood thing. Which he had every reason to be ashamed of. Although they were on the same side now, she hadn’t yet forgiven him for how he’d treated her, and countless others. Like cattle at an auction.

Not that she’d ever seen a cattle auction.

If she were honest with herself, she had uncertain opinions about most of the crew of the Rampion. After seeing Wolf snap in the hotel, Cress had done her best to steer clear of him when she could. His temper, and the knowledge of what his kind were capable of, made the hair prickle on her neck every time his vivid green eyes met hers.

It didn’t help that Wolf hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left Africa. While they’d all discussed the danger of staying in orbit before Cress could reinstate her systems for keeping them unobserved, Wolf had crouched solitary in a corner of the cockpit, staring empty-eyed at the pilot’s seat.

When Cinder had suggested they go somewhere that was in reach of New Beijing while they figured out the next phase of their plan, Wolf had paced back and forth in the galley, cradling a can of tomatoes.

When they had finally descended into the desolate wasteland of the Commonwealth’s northern Siberian regions, Wolf had lain on his side on the lower bunk bed of one of the crew quarters, his face buried in a pillow. Cress had assumed it was his bed, until Thorne informed her it had been Scarlet’s.

She pitied him, of course. Anyone could see that he was devastated at Scarlet’s loss. But she feared him more. Wolf’s presence was like a ticking bomb that could explode at any moment.

Then there was Jacin Clay, Sybil’s one-time guard, who spent most of his time in smug silence. When he did talk, he tended to say something rude or prickly. Plus, while he may have joined their side now, Cress couldn’t help but think of all the times he had brought Mistress Sybil to her satellite, how many years he’d known about her captivity and done nothing to help her.

And then there was the escort-droid, with her Master this, and Master that, and Would you like me to wash your feet and give you a nice foot rub, Master?

“Captain!”

Cress bristled at the girly squeal, followed by a blur of blue that fluttered into the medbay and slammed into Thorne, nearly knocking him off the lab table.

He grunted. “Wha—”

“I love it!” said the escort. “I absolutely love it! It’s the best present anyone has ever given me and you’re the best captain in the whole wide galaxy! Thank you thank you thank you!” The android took to smothering Thorne’s face in kisses, ignoring his struggles to back away on the table.

Cress pressed her fingers into the portscreen until her arms began to shake.

“Iko, let him breathe,” said Cinder, appearing in the doorway.

“Right, sorry!” The android grabbed Thorne’s cheeks and planted one more adamant kiss on his mouth before pulling away.

Cress’s jaw began to ache from grinding her teeth.

“Iko?” said Thorne.

“In the flesh! How do I look?” She struck a pose for Thorne, then immediately started to laugh. “Oops—I mean … well, you’ll just have to take my word for it that I am gorgeous. Plus I checked the manufacturer’s catalogue and I can upgrade to forty different eye colors! I kind of like the metallic gold ones, but we’ll see. Trends are so fleeting, you know.”

Beginning to relax, Thorne smiled. “I’m glad you like her. But if you’re here, who’s running the ship?”

“I just switched out the personality chips,” said Cinder. “Darla didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Something about ‘Whatever would please my master.’” Cinder pretended to gag. “I also undid some of her programming. Hopefully she won’t be feeling too concerned about law-breaking after this.”

“Just how I like my ships,” said Thorne. “Darla, are you up there?”

“Ready to serve, Captain Thorne,” said a new voice in the speakers overhead, strangely robotic compared with Iko’s hyperactive tones. “I am pleased to act as your new auto-control system and will strive to ensure the safety and comfort of my crew.”

Thorne beamed. “Oh. I’m going to like her.”

“When you’re done with your examination,” said Cinder, listing her head toward the door, “come out to the cargo bay. We have a lot we need to discuss.”

*   *   *

Within minutes, the crew of the Rampion had assembled in the cargo bay. Iko sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, mesmerized by the sight of her own bare toes. Dr. Erland had wheeled out the small desk chair from the medbay to sit on—Cress didn’t think his old age and short legs would have allowed him to get up on one of the storage crates unassisted. Wolf leaned against the door to the cockpit, shoulders hunched, hands tucked into his pockets, and dark circles beneath his eyes. Opposite him, Jacin stood against the wall beside the corridor that led to the crew quarters and the galley, turned sideways as if he could only be bothered to give Cinder half his attention.

Cress led Thorne to one of the large storage crates—hoping it wasn’t obvious that she was putting as much distance between herself and Wolf as she could.

Clearing her throat, Cinder came to stand before them, in front of the large netscreen embedded into the cargo bay wall.

“The royal wedding is in four days,” she started. “And I think—I hope—that we’re all in agreement that we cannot allow Levana to become the Commonwealth’s empress. Her coronation would be a legally binding position that couldn’t be easily undone, and giving her that sort of power … well. You know.” She scuffed her boots against the metal floor. “Our plan before had been to interrupt the wedding and attempt to publicly dethrone Levana while she was here, on Earth. But Dr. Erland has convinced me that it won’t make a difference. It might keep her from being empress, for now, but as long as the people of Luna still call her their queen, she will continue to harass Earth however she can. So, I believe the only way for us to truly rid ourselves of Levana is to go to Luna and persuade the people to rebel against her … and crown a new monarch.” She seemed to hesitate, her eyes flashing toward Jacin, before she continued, “And I think … if we can pull it off … I know of a way to get us up there, without being seen.”

Thorne tapped his cane against the plastic crate. “All right, Miss Cryptic. What’s the new plan, then?”

Glancing around the room, Cinder tipped up her chin. “It starts with kidnapping the groom.”

Thorne stopped tapping his cane and the room fell quiet. Pressing her lips, Cress dared to scan the faces of the rest of the crew, but everyone seemed perplexed.

Iko’s hand shot into the air.

“Yes, Iko?”

“That is the best idea ever. Count me in.”

Some of the tension started to dissipate, and Cinder even chuckled. “I hope you all feel that way, because I need your help for this to work. We need supplies still, and wedding invitations, and costumes…” She shook her head, clearing the dazed look that had entered her eyes. “But right now, I think our biggest problem will be locating Kai once we’re inside. I haven’t been able to find out anything about a tracking ID for him. The royal guard seems to have done too good a job at keeping any stalkers or assassins at bay.”

Cress leaned forward. “Why not use the Tan Kaoru number?”

They all swiveled their attentions toward her, and Cress immediately shrank back.

“What’s that?” said Cinder.

“It’s, um, Emperor Kaito’s tracking number. 0089175004. The net profile shows up as a palace guard named Tan Kaoru, but he’s just a foil. It’s really the ID that the royal security team uses to track His Majesty. I’ve been using it to confirm his location for ages.”

“Really? How did you ever figure that out?”

Face burning, Cress opened her mouth, realized it was going to be a really long, tedious explanation, and closed it again.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Cinder, rubbing her temple. “If you’re sure it’s him.”

“I am.”

“So … great. Number 008 … Iko, did you get that?”

“Got it.”

“Thanks, Cress.”

She exhaled.

Cinder rubbed her hands together. “So, here’s what I had in mind. Cress, you’re in charge of disabling the palace security system. Wolf, you’ll cover her.”

Cress’s head flew up, gaze clashing with Wolf’s. She shriveled against Thorne’s side. The last thing she wanted was to be paired with Wolf. Sure, Cinder and Thorne seemed to trust him, but how much could they really know about a man who had nearly strangled Cinder in that hotel, who had howled like a wild animal, who had been created for the purpose of killing humans in the most horrific, senseless way?

But nobody seemed to notice her fear, or if they did, they ignored it.

“Meanwhile,” Cinder continued, “Iko and I will track down Kai and get him to come back with us. We meet on one of the rooftops and Jacin picks us up and flies us out before they realize what’s going on. At least, that’s the idea.” She tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. “It does leave one more major problem though. I won’t be able to sneak in as a guest, or even a member of the staff. I’m too recognizable. So, how do I get into the palace without being noticed?”

“I could go without you?” suggested Iko.

Cinder shook her head. “Kai doesn’t know you. If we’re going to get him to trust us, I think … I think it has to be me.”

Jacin scoffed, the first sound he’d made, but Cinder ignored him.

Cress bit her lip as the others started making suggestions. She could disguise herself as a member of the media? Scale the back walls? Hide in an enormous bouquet of flowers?

Already red with embarrassment, Cress forced her mouth to open. “What about…” She trailed off as everyone turned to her. “Um.”

“What?” said Cinder.

“What about … the escape tunnels?”

“Escape tunnels?”

She pulled on her hair, wishing there was more of it to toy with, to twist and knot and take out her fluttering nerves on. But it was short now. Short and light and freeing, and everyone was still staring at her. Goose bumps raced down her arms.

“The ones that run beneath the palace. When they built it after the war, they had the tunnels put in to connect with fallout shelters and safe houses. In case of another attack.”

Cinder glanced at the netscreen. “None of the blueprints I’ve seen have said anything about escape tunnels.”

“They wouldn’t be very safe if everyone knew about them.”

“But how did you—” Cinder paused. “Never mind. Are you sure they’re still there?”

“Of course they are.”

“I don’t suppose you remember where any of them go?”

“Of course I do.” She wiped her clammy palms on her sides.

“Excellent.” Cinder looked on the verge of relaxing. “So, before we get into the details … are there any questio—”

“How long before we’re on Luna?” said Wolf, his voice gruff from misuse.

Cress gulped. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he could tear them all to pieces without a second thought.

Then she realized that there was a subtext to his question, one that everyone else had probably picked up on immediately. Scarlet. He really wanted to know, how long before he could go after Scarlet?

“A couple weeks, at least,” said Cinder. Her voice had gone quiet, apologetic. “Maybe as many as three…”

Jaw tightening, Wolf turned his head away. Otherwise, he remained motionless, a brooding shadow in the corner.

Thorne raised a finger and Cinder went rigid again. “Yes?”

“Doesn’t New Beijing Palace have its own medical labs? Say, medical labs that might have magical blindness-curing machines in them?”

Cinder narrowed her eyes. “You’re not coming. It’s too risky, and you would just be in the way.”

Thorne grinned, unperturbed. “Think about it, Cinder. When Cress takes out that security system, every guard in that palace is going to run to one of two places. To the security control center to see what’s going on, or to wherever their precious emperor is, to make sure he’s safe and sound. Unless there was another, even more obvious disturbance happening somewhere else in the palace.” He cupped his chin. “A big disturbance. Far, far away from you guys. Like, say, in the medical labs.”

Knotting her hands in her lap, Cress swiveled her attention between Thorne and Cinder, wondering what sort of disturbance he had in mind. For her part, Cinder looked torn. She kept opening her mouth, before slamming it shut again. She did not seem happy to be contemplating Thorne’s idea.

“I have a question too.”

Cress jumped and turned to peer over her shoulder at Jacin. He looked supremely bored, one elbow propped against the wall and his hand buried in his hair, as if he were about to fall asleep standing up. But his blue eyes were sharp as he stared at Cinder.

“Let’s say you manage to pull this off, not that I really think you will.”

Cinder folded her arms.

“You do understand that once Levana realizes what you’ve done, she’s not going to sit around waiting to see what you do next, right? The cease-fire will be over.”

“I do understand that,” said Cinder, her tone heavy as she pulled her gaze away from Jacin, meeting each of the others’ in turn. “If we succeed, we’ll be starting a war.”

Forty-Four

The morning of the wedding arrived. Cinder was a wreck of frazzled thoughts and skittish nerves, but at the center of it was a strange sense of calm. Before the sun set again, she would know the outcome of all their planning and preparations. Either they would succeed today, or they would all become prisoners of Queen Levana.

Or they’d be dead.

She tried not to think of that as she showered and dressed and ate a meager breakfast of stale crackers and almond butter. It was all her churning stomach could handle.

The sun had just showed itself over the frosted Siberian tundra when they piled into the remaining podship—seven people crammed into a space meant for five—to embark on the forty-minute low-elevation flight to New Beijing. No one complained. The Rampion was far too large to hide. At least the podship would be able to blend in with all the other podships in a city suddenly swarming with foreign spacecraft.

The ride was torturous and mostly silent, punctuated only by Iko’s and Thorne’s occasional chatter. Cinder spent the ride switching between newsfeeds covering the royal wedding and the ongoing coverage of the rebellion in Farafrah.

The townspeople had given up their control of the military personnel as soon as reinforcements arrived. Rather than attempt to arrest and transport hundreds of civilians, the Commonwealth military, with permission from the African government, put the entire city into armed lockdown until they could all be thoroughly questioned and charged. The citizens were being treated as traitors to the Earthen Union for helping Linh Cinder, Dmitri Erland, and Carswell Thorne, although the news kept reporting that the government was willing to be lenient with anyone who came forward with information about the fugitives, their allies, and their ship.

So far, not one of the citizens of Farafrah seemed to be cooperating.

Cinder wondered if the Lunar townspeople were being treated the same as the Earthens, or if they were just waiting to be sent back to Luna for their real trial. To date, no journalists had mentioned that many of the rebels were Lunar. Cinder suspected the government was trying to keep that little fact quiet, to avoid mass panic in neighboring towns—or even all over the world—which would surely come once Earthens realized how easy it was for Lunars to blend in with them. Cinder could still remember when she’d believed there weren’t any Lunars on Earth and how horrified she’d been when Dr. Erland had told her she was wrong. Her reaction seemed ridiculously naïve now.

As New Beijing came into view, Cinder sent the newsfeeds away. The buildings at the city’s center were grand and imposing, like willowy sculptures of chrome and glass reaching toward the sky. Cinder was caught off guard by the sudden ache that hit her—homesickness. A homesickness she’d been too busy to recognize until that moment.

The palace stood regally beneath the morning sun, high on its watchful cliff, but they veered away from it. Jacin followed Cinder’s directions toward downtown, eventually mixing with clusters of hovers and, she was glad to see, multiple podships as well. Cinder’s stop was first, two blocks away from the Phoenix Tower Apartments.

She took in a deep breath as she disembarked. Though autumn would be sweeping in fast over the next few weeks, New Beijing was still in summer’s grip, and the day was starting off cloudless and warm. The temperature was just a click above comfortable, but not stifling with humidity as it had been the last time Cinder was in the city.

“If you don’t see me at the checkpoint in ten minutes,” she said, “loop the block a few times and come back.”

Jacin nodded without looking at her.

“If you get the chance,” said Iko, “give Adri a big kick in the rump for me. With the metal foot.”

Cinder laughed, though the sound was awkward. Then they were gone, leaving her alone on a street she’d walked a thousand times.

She’d already called up her glamour, but it was difficult to focus, so she kept her head down anyway as she made her way to the apartments she had once called home.

It was strange to be alone, after weeks of being surrounded by friends and allies, but she was glad that no one else was joining her for this stage of the plan. It seemed weirdly important to distance herself from the girl she’d been when she lived in this apartment, and the idea of her new friends meeting her ex-stepfamily made her cringe.

Her shirt was already sticking to her back as she approached the apartment’s main entrance. She waited until another resident came through, unlocking the doors with their embedded ID chip, and slipped in behind them. A familiar dread settled over her as she crossed the small lobby, a feeling that had once seemed normal. But this time, she also felt a sense of purpose as she entered the elevator. She was no longer the unwanted cyborg orphan who did as she was told and skittered off to her basement workroom to avoid Adri’s bitter glares.

She was free. She was in control. She didn’t belong to Adri anymore.

For perhaps the first time, she stepped out of the elevator with her head high.

The hallway was empty except for a mangy gray cat cleaning himself.

Cinder came to apartment 1820, squared her shoulders, and knocked.

Footsteps padded on the other side of the door, and she focused on her glamour. Cinder had chosen to take on the appearance of one of the officials she’d seen standing behind Kai at the last press conference. Middle-aged, slightly pudgy, with gray-flecked black hair and a too-small-for-her-face nose. She mimicked her exactly, down to the blue-gray business suit and sensible tan shoes.

The door opened and a cloud of stale hot air swept into the hallway.

Adri stood before her, tying the belt around her silk bathrobe. She almost always wore her bathrobe when she was at home, but this was not the same one Cinder was familiar with. Her hair was pulled back, and she wasn’t yet wearing any makeup. There was a fine sheen of sweat on her face.

Cinder expected her body to recoil under her stepmother’s inspection, but it didn’t. Rather, as she looked at Adri, she felt only a detached coldness.

This was just a woman with an invitation to the royal wedding. This was just another task to cross off the list.

“Yes?” said Adri, skeptical gaze swooping over her.

Cinder-the-Palace-Official bowed. “Good morning. Is Linh Adri-jiĕ at home?”

“I am Linh Adri.”

“A pleasure. I apologize for disturbing you at such an early hour,” said Cinder, launching into her practiced speech. “I am a member of the royal wedding planning committee, and I understand you were promised two invitations to the nuptials between His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Kaito, and Her Lunar Majesty, Queen Levana. As you are one of our distinguished civilian guests, I am honored to personally deliver your invitations for tonight’s ceremony.”

She held out two pieces of paper—in reality, disposable napkin scraps, but to Adri’s eye, two finely crafted, hand-pressed paper envelopes.

At least, she hoped that’s what Adri was seeing. The closest Cinder had yet to come to changing the perception of an inanimate object was her own prosthetic hand, and she wasn’t sure if that counted.

Adri frowned at the napkins, but it quickly turned into a patient smile. No doubt because she now believed she was talking to someone from the palace. “There must be some mistake,” she said. “We received our invitations last week.”

Cinder feigned surprise and withdrew the napkins. “How peculiar. Would you mind if I took a look at those invitations? So I can make sure some mishap hasn’t occurred?”

Adri’s grin tightened, but she stepped aside and ushered Cinder into the apartment. “Of course, please come in. Can I offer you some tea?”

“Thank you, no. We’ll just clear up this confusion and I won’t intrude anymore on your time.” She followed Adri into the living room.

“I must apologize for the heat,” said Adri, grabbing a fan off a small side table and flicking it before her face. “The air has been broken for a week now and the maintenance here is completely incompetent. I used to have a servant to assist with these things, a cyborg ward my husband took in, but—well. It doesn’t matter now. Good riddance.”

Cinder bristled. Servant? But she ignored the comment as her gaze traveled over the room. It hadn’t changed much, with the exception of the items displayed on the mantel of the holographic fireplace. Belongings that had held such prominent position before—Linh Garan’s award plaques and alternating digital photos of Pearl and Peony—had been crammed together at the mantel’s far edge. Now, at its center, stood a beautiful porcelain jar, painted with pink and white peonies and set atop a carved mahogany base.

Cinder sucked in a breath.

Not a jar. An urn. A cremation urn.

Her mouth went dry. She heard Adri padding across the living room, but her focus was pinned to that urn, and what—who—would be inside it.

Of their own accord, her feet began to move toward the mantel and Peony’s remains. Her funeral had come and gone and Cinder had not been there. Adri and Pearl had wept. Had no doubt invited every person from Peony’s classes, every person from this apartment building, every distant relative who had barely known her, who had probably griped about having to send the expected sympathy card and flowers.

But Cinder hadn’t been there.

“My daughter,” said Adri.

Cinder gasped and pulled away. She hadn’t realized that her fingers were brushing against a painted flower until Adri had spoken.

“Gone only recently, of letumosis,” Adri continued, as if Cinder had asked. “She was only fourteen.” There was sadness in her voice, true sadness. It was perhaps the one thing they had ever had in common.

“I’m sorry,” Cinder whispered, grateful that in her distraction, some instinct had maintained her glamour. She forced herself to focus before her eyes started trying to make tears. They would fail—she was incapable of crying—but the effort sometimes gave her a headache that wouldn’t go away for hours, and now was not the time for mourning. She had a wedding to stop.

“Do you have children?” Adri asked.

“Er … no. I don’t,” said Cinder, having no idea if the palace official she was impersonating did or not.

“I have one other daughter—seventeen years old. It was not very long ago that all I could think of was finding her a nice, wealthy husband. Daughters are expensive, you know, and a mother wants to give them everything. But now, I can’t stand the thought of her leaving me too.” She sighed and tore her gaze away from the urn. “But listen to me, carrying on, when you must have so many other places to be today. Here are the invitations we received.”

Cinder took them carefully, glad to change the subject. Now that she was seeing a real invitation up close, she changed the glamour she’d made up for the napkins. The paper was a little stiffer, slightly more ivory, with gold, embossed letters in a flourishing script on one side and traditional second-era kanji on the other.

“Interesting,” said Cinder, opening the top invitation. She faked a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as painful as it was. “Ah, these are the invitations for Linh Jung and his wife. Your addresses must have gotten switched in our database. How silly.”

Adri cocked her head. “Are you sure? When they arrived, I was certain—”

“See for yourself.” Cinder angled the paper so Adri could see what wasn’t there. What Cinder told her to see. What Cinder told her to believe.

“Goodness, so it is,” said Adri.

Cinder handed Adri the napkins and watched as her stepmother handled them as though they were the most precious items in the world.

“Well then,” she said, her voice barely warbling. “I’ll see myself out. I hope you’ll enjoy the ceremony.”

Adri dropped the napkins into her robe’s pocket. “Thank you for taking the time to deliver these yourself. His Imperial Majesty certainly is a gracious host.”

“We are lucky to have him.” Cinder meandered into the hallway. As her hand landed on the door, she realized with a jolt that this could be the last time she ever saw her stepmother.

The very last time, if she could dare to hope.

She attempted to smother the temptation that roiled inside her at the thought, but she still found herself turning back to face Adri.

“I—”

 … have nothing to say. I have nothing to say to you.

But all the common sense in the world could not convince her of those words.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she started again, clearing her throat, “but you mentioned a cyborg before. You wouldn’t happen to be the guardian of Linh Cinder?”

Adri’s kindness fell away. “I was, unfortunately. Thank the stars that’s all behind us now.”

Against all her reasoning, Cinder stepped back into the apartment, blocking the doorway. “But she grew up here. Didn’t you ever feel that she could have been a part of your family? Didn’t you ever think of her as a daughter?”

Adri huffed, fanning herself again. “You didn’t know the girl. Always ungrateful, always thinking she was so much better than us because of her … additions. Cyborgs are like that, you know. So self-important. It was awful for us, living with her. A cyborg and a Lunar, although we didn’t know it until her mortifying spectacle at the ball.” She tightened her belt. “And now she’s soiled our family name. I have to ask that you not judge us by her. I did all I could to help the girl, but she was unredeemable from the start.”

Cinder’s fingers twitched, a familiar taste of rebellion. She ached to toss off her glamour, to yell and scream, to force Adri to see her, the real her, just once. Not the ungrateful, self-important little girl that Adri thought she was, but the orphan who had always just wanted a family, who had only wanted to belong somewhere.

But even as she thought this, a darker yearning climbed up her spine. She wanted Adri to be sorry. For how she had treated Cinder like a piece of property. For how she had taken Cinder’s prosthetic foot and forced her to hobble around like a broken doll. For how she had taunted Cinder again and again for her inability to cry, her inability to love, her inability to ever be human.

She found herself reaching out with her mind, detecting the waves of bioelectricity that shimmered off the surface of Adri’s skin. Before she could rein in the anger that roiled through her, Cinder pressed every ounce of guilt and remorse and shame into her stepmother’s thick skull—twisting her emotions so rashly that Adri gasped and stumbled, her side slamming into the wall.

“But didn’t you ever wonder how hard it must have been?” Cinder said through her teeth. A headache was coming on fast, throbbing against her dry eyes. “Didn’t you ever feel guilty over the way she was treated? Didn’t you ever think that maybe you could have loved her, if only you’d taken the time to talk to her, to understand her?”