Cinder turned away.

“Oh, come on. Please don’t tell me you’re obsessing over this wedding because you actually think you’re in love with him?”

“I am,” said Iko. “Madly.”

Cinder massaged her temple.

After an awkward silence, Iko said, “We are still talking about Kai, right?”

“Where did you even find her?” said Jacin, gesturing at the ceiling speakers.

“I’m not just doing this for Kai.” Cinder dropped her hand to her side. “I’m doing this because I’m the only one who can. I’m going to overthrow Levana. I’m going to make sure she can’t hurt anyone else.”

Jacin gaped at her like she’d just sprouted an android arm from the top of her head. “You think that you are capable of overthrowing Levana?”

Screaming, Cinder threw her arms into the air. “That’s kind of the whole idea! Don’t you? Isn’t that the entire reason you’re helping us?”

“Stars, no. I’m not crazy. I’m here because I saw an opportunity to get away from that thaumaturge without getting killed, and—” He cut himself off.

“And what?”

His jaw flexed.

“And what?”

“And it’s what Her Highness would have wanted me to do, although now she’s probably going to die for it.”

Cinder furrowed her brow. “What?”

“And now I’m stuck with you and some backward plan you have that’s going to get us all back to square one—right in the hands of Queen Levana.”

“Wha—but—Her Highness? What are you even talking about?”

“Princess Winter. Who do you think?”

“Princess…” Cinder drew a step away from him. “You mean, the queen’s stepdaughter?”

“Ooooooooooohhh,” said Iko.

“Yeah, the only princess we’ve got, if you haven’t noticed. Who did you think I was talking about?”

Cinder gulped. Her gaze flickered to the netscreen, where their original plan had long since been hidden beneath newsfeeds and that blasted clock. Jacin had never been told about their intentions of interrupting the wedding and announcing her identity to the world.

“Um. Nobody,” she stammered, scratching her wrist. “So, um … when you say you’re loyal to ‘your princess’ … you’re talking about her. Right?”

Jacin peered at her like he couldn’t figure out why he was wasting his time with such an idiot.

Cinder cleared her throat. “Right.”

“I should have let Sybil have you,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I thought maybe the princess would be proud if she heard about me turning against Sybil. That she would approve of my decision. But who am I kidding? She’ll never even know.”

“Do you … do you love her?”

He glared at her, disgusted. “Don’t try to push your swoony psychodrama on me. I’m sworn to protect her. Can’t very well do that from down here, can I?”

“Protect her from what? Levana?”

“Among other things.”

Cinder collapsed onto one of the storage crates, feeling like she’d just sprinted halfway across the desert. Her body was drained, her brain frazzled. Jacin didn’t care about her at all—he was loyal to the queen’s stepdaughter. She hadn’t even known the queen’s stepdaughter had people who were loyal to her.

“Help me,” she said, not hiding the pleading in her tone as she met Jacin’s gaze again. “I swear to you, I can stop Levana. I can get you back to Luna, where you can protect your princess, or do whatever you need to do. But I need help.”

“That much is pretty obvious. Are you going to let me in on this miracle plan of yours?”

She gulped. “Maybe. Eventually.”

He shook his head, looking like he wanted to laugh as he gestured out toward the streets of Farafrah. “You’re just desperate because the strongest ally you have right now is lying in a drug-induced coma.”

“Wolf is going to be fine,” Cinder said, with more conviction than she expected. Then she sighed. “I’m desperate because I need as many allies as I can get.”

Thirty-Six

They stopped again that night and Cress was given some bread, dried fruit, and water. She listened to the sounds of camp outside the van and tried to sleep, but it came only in fits.

They started early again the next morning.

She became less and less sure that Thorne would come for her. She kept seeing him embracing that other woman, and imagined that he was glad he no longer had to bother himself with the weak, naïve Lunar shell.

Even the fantasies that had consoled and comforted her for so many years aboard the satellite were growing feeble. She was not a warrior, brave and strong and ready to defend justice. She was not the most beautiful girl in the land, able to evoke empathy and respect from even the most hard-hearted villain. She was not even a damsel knowing that a hero would someday rescue her.

Instead, she spent the agonizing hours wondering whether she was to become a slave, a servant, a feast for cannibals, a human sacrifice, or whether she would be returned to Queen Levana and tortured for her betrayal.

Eventually, late in the second day of her entrapment, the vans stopped and the doors were thrown open. Cress cringed at the brightness and tried to scuffle away, but she was grabbed and hauled outside. She landed on her knees. Pain shot up her spine, but her captor ignored her whimpering as he tugged her to her feet and bound her wrists.

The pain soon faded, trounced by adrenaline and curiosity. They’d arrived at a new town, but even she could tell this one had never been as wealthy or populated as Kufra. Modest buildings the color of the desert stretched down a sand-spotted road. Walls of red clay, painted indigo and pink, had long been bleached in the sun, their roofs covered with broken tiles. A fenced area not far away held half a dozen camels and there were a few more wheeled, dirty vehicles stationed along the street, and—

She blinked the sun and sand from her eyes.

A spaceship sat in the center of town. A Rampion.

Her heart skipped with frenzied hope, but it was quickly smothered. Even from this distance she could see that the Rampion’s main hatch was painted black, not adorned with a lounging lady as had been reported when Thorne’s ship landed in France.

She whimpered, tearing her eyes away as her captors herded her into the nearest building. They entered a dark hallway. Only a small window in the front let in any light, and it had been caked with windblown sand over the years. There was a tiny desk set into a corner with a board of old-fashioned keys hanging on the wall. Cress was shuffled past it and taken to the end of the corridor.

The walls reeked with something pungent—not a bad scent, but too overpowering to be pleasant. Cress’s nose tickled.

She was pushed up a staircase, so thin that she had to follow behind Jina, with Niels behind her. An eerie silence haunted the sand-colored walls. The stench was stronger up here and a shiver raced down her spine, making goose bumps bloom across her arms. Her fear had bundled itself up in a cluster of nerves at the base of her spine.

By the time they reached the last door in the hallway and Jina raised her fist to knock, Cress was shaking so hard she almost couldn’t stand. She was surprised to find herself longing for the security of the van.

Jina had to knock twice before they heard footsteps and the creak of the door. Niels kept Cress tucked securely behind Jina, and all she could see were the cuffs of a man’s brown trousers and worn white shoes with fraying laces.

“Jina,” said a man—sounding like he’d just woken from a nap. “I heard a rumor out of Kufra that you were on your way.”

“I’ve brought you another subject. Found her wandering in the desert.”

A hesitation. Then the man said, without question, “A shell.”

His certainty made Cress squirm. If he had not had to ask, that meant he could sense her. Or, rather, couldn’t sense her. She remembered Sybil complaining that she could not sense Cress’s thoughts—how much more difficult it was to train and command a person like her, as if it were all Cress’s doing.