“We heard the outbreaks aren’t half as bad as rumored,” said Thorne, lying with an ease that astonished Cress.

“You heard wrong. The plague outbreak is as bad as they think. Worse.”

“Which town were you traveling to?” asked Jina.

“Oh—whichever one you’re going to,” Thorne said, not missing a beat. “We don’t want to burden you. We’ll take our leave in any town with a netscreen. Er … you wouldn’t happen to have any portscreens on hand, would you?”

“We do,” said the oldest woman, perhaps in her fifties. “But net access is fickle here. We won’t have a good connection until we get to Kufra.”

“Kufra?”

“The next trading town,” said Niels. “It will take us another day to get there, but you should be able to find whatever you need.”

“We’ll rest today and tonight and set out tomorrow,” said Jina. “You need to replenish yourself, and we want to avoid the high sun.”

Thorne flashed a most grateful smile. “We can’t thank you enough.”

A bout of dizziness spun through Cress’s head, forcing her to set down the bowl.

“You don’t look well,” someone said, she wasn’t sure who.

“My wife was feeling ill earlier.”

“You should have said. She could have heat sickness.” Jina stood, setting aside her food. “Come, you should not be so near the fire. You can use Kwende’s tent tonight, but you should drink more before you sleep. Jamal, bring me some damp blankets.”

Cress accepted the hand that pulled her to her feet. She turned to Thorne and gathered her courage to give him a small, non-theatrical kiss on the cheek, but as soon as she bent toward him, blood rushed to her head. The world flipped over. White spots pricked at her eyesight, and she collapsed into the sand.

Twenty-Five

Cinder pulled back the drapes and stepped into the shop, holding the curtain for Jacin as she surveyed the shelves around her. Jars were filled with assorted herbs and liquids, many of them labeled in a language she didn’t know, although if she stared at them for too long her netlink would begin searching for a translation. These exotic ingredients were scattered among boxes of drugs and bottles of pills that she recognized from pharmacies in the Commonwealth, along with bundles of gauze and bandages, pasty ointments, portscreen accessories designed for taking various vital stats, massage oils, candles, and anatomical models. Flecks of dust caught on a few streams of light that filtered in from dirty windows, and a fan spun lazily in the corner, doing little to dispel the dry heat. In the corner, a holograph displayed the progression of internal bleeding due to a side injury, occasionally flickering.

Jacin meandered toward the back of the shop, still walking with a slight limp.

“Hello?” Cinder called. Another curtain hung over a doorway on the far wall, alongside an old mirror and a standing sink that was overgrown with a potted plant.

The curtain swished and a woman ducked through, pulling an apron on over plain jeans and a brightly patterned top. “Coming, com—” She spotted Cinder. Her eyes widened, followed by an enormous smile as she yanked the apron strings behind her. “Welcome!” she said in the thick accent that Cinder was becoming familiar with.

“Hi, thank you.” Cinder set a portscreen down on the counter between them, pulling up the list that Dr. Erland had recorded for her. “I’m here for some supplies. I was told you would have these things?”

“Cinder Linh.”

She raised her head. The woman was still beaming. “Yes?”

“You are brave and beautiful.”

She tensed, feeling more like the woman had threatened her than complimented her. In the moments following the unexpected statement, she waited for her lie detector to come on, but it never did. Brave, maybe. At least, she could comprehend why someone would say that after they’d heard the stories about the ball.

But beautiful?

The woman kept smiling.

“Um. Thank you?” She nudged the portscreen toward her. “My friend gave me this list—”

The woman grabbed her hands and squeezed. Cinder gulped, surprised not only by the sudden touch, but at how the woman didn’t flinch when she took her metal hand.

Jacin leaned over the counter and slid the portscreen toward the woman so suddenly that she had to release Cinder’s hand in order to catch it. “We need these things,” he said, pointing at the screen.

The woman’s smile vanished as her gaze swept over Jacin, who was wearing the shirt from his guard uniform, freshly cleaned and patched so that the bloodstains hardly showed on the maroon fabric. “My son was also conscripted to become a guard for Levana.” Her eyes narrowed. “But he was not so rude.”

Jacin shrugged. “Some of us have things to do.”

“Wait,” said Cinder. “You’re Lunar?”

Her expression softened when she focused on Cinder again. “Yes. Like you.”

She buried the discomfort that came with such an open admission. “And your son is a royal guard?”

“No, no. He chose to kill himself, rather than become one of her puppets.” She flashed a glare at Jacin, and stood a little taller.

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” said Cinder.

Jacin rolled his eyes. “I guess he must not have cared about you very much.”

Cinder gasped. “Jacin!”

Shaking his head, he snatched the portscreen back from the woman. “I’ll start looking,” he said, shouldering past Cinder. “Why don’t you ask her what happened next?”

Cinder glared at his back until he had disappeared down one of the rows. “Sorry about that,” she said, searching for some excuse. “He’s … you know. Also Lunar.”

“He is one of hers.”

Cinder turned back to the woman, who looked offended at Jacin’s words. “Not anymore.”

Grunting, the woman turned to reposition the fan so Cinder could catch most of the gentle breeze. “Courage comes in many forms. You know about that.” Pride flickered over the woman’s face.

“I guess so.”

“Perhaps your friend was brave enough to join her guard. My son was brave enough not to.”

Rubbing absently at her wrist, Cinder leaned against the counter. “Did something happen? Afterward?”

“Of course.” There was still pride on her face, but also anger, and also sadness. “Three days after my son died, two men came to our house. They took my husband out into the street and forced him to beg the queen’s forgiveness for raising such a disloyal child. And then they killed him anyway, as punishment. And as a warning to any other conscripts who were thinking of disobeying the crown.” Her eyes were beginning to water, but she held on to a pained smile. “It took me almost four years to find a ship that was coming to Earth and willing to accept me as a stowaway. Four years of pretending that I didn’t hate her. Of pretending to be one more loyal citizen.”

Cinder gulped. “I’m so sorry.”

Reaching forward, the woman cupped Cinder’s cheek. “Thank you for defying her in a way that I never could.” Her voice turned to steel. “I hope you kill her.”

“Do you carry fentanyl-ten?” asked Jacin, returning to the counter and dropping three small boxes onto it.

Pressing her lips, the woman took the portscreen out of his hand. “I will do this,” she said, slipping around the counter and heading toward the front corner of the store.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered.

Cinder propped her chin on her metal fist, eyeing him. “I never realized royal guard was a mandatory position.”

“Not for everyone. A lot of people want to be chosen. It’s a big honor on Luna.”

“Did you?”

He slid his gaze to her. “Naw. I always wanted to be a doctor.”

His tone was thick with sarcasm, and yet Cinder’s optobionics didn’t peg it as a lie. She crossed her arms. “So. Who were you protecting?”

“What do you mean?”

Something scraped against the floor—the shopkeeper shoving around dusty bins.