Tears began to work their way out of her lashes. Her jaw was aching where he held her, but she was more afraid of what would happen when he let go. Did he think she worked for the doctor? Could it be that he was just one more victim sold off to the old man? He was Lunar, so they had that much in common. If she could convince him that they were allies, maybe she could get away long enough to run. But could these monsters even be reasoned with?
“Do you understand me?”
Her lashes fluttered, and the door behind him opened.
His moves were fast and fluid and Cress’s head spun as the man turned and pulled her in front of him, plastering her against his chest. He stumbled, as if the sudden movement had made him dizzy, but caught himself as light spilled into the room. A silhouette stood in the doorway—not the old man, but a guard. A Lunar guard.
Cress’s eyes widened with recognition. Sybil’s guard. The pilot in Sybil’s podship, who could have saved her but didn’t.
The wolf operative hissed. Cress would have collapsed if his grip hadn’t been so firm.
Sybil had found her. Sybil was here.
Her tears began to spill over. She was trapped. She was dead.
“Take one step and I’ll snap her neck!”
The guard said nothing. Cress wasn’t sure he’d even heard the threat. His eyebrows were raised as he surveyed the scene, and he seemed to recognize her. But rather than look victorious, he seemed merely stunned.
“What have—Scarlet?” The words were almost incomprehensible beneath a growl. “Where’s Scarlet?”
“Aren’t you that hacker?” said the guard, still staring at Cress.
The operative’s grip tightened. “You have five seconds to tell me where she is, or this girl is dead, and you’re next.”
“I’m not with them,” Cress choked. “He-he doesn’t care about me.”
The guard raised his hands in a placating gesture. Cress wondered where Mistress Sybil was.
When the operative’s hold didn’t loosen, it occurred to her that both of these men worked for the Lunar queen. Why would they be threatening each other?
“Just relax,” said the guard. “Let me get Cinder or the doctor. They can explain.”
The operative flinched. “Cinder?”
“She’s out in the ship.” His gaze dipped again to Cress. “Where did you come from?”
She gulped, her head ringing with the same question the operative had posed.
Cinder?
“What is going on here?”
She shuddered at the doctor’s voice, stronger than it had been during his negotiations with Jina. Then footsteps. The guard stepped aside to let the doctor into the room, still dark but for the corridor light. Cress couldn’t help but feel a sting of pride to see that she’d left a mark on his jaw.
Though lots of good her newfound courage had done her in the end.
The doctor froze and took in the scene. “Oh, stars,” he muttered. “Of all the bad timings…”
Though the sight of him reignited Cress’s hatred, she also remembered that this was not just some cruel old man who traded for Lunar slaves. This was the man who had helped Cinder escape.
Her head spun.
“Let her go,” said the doctor, speaking gently. “We are not your enemies. That girl is not your enemy. Please, allow me to explain.”
Wolf pulled an arm away from her, dragging a hand down his face. He swayed for a moment before recovering his balance. “I’ve been here before,” he muttered. “Cinder … Africa?”
Loud thumping on the distant staircase intruded on his confusion. Then there was yelling and Cress thought she heard her name, and the voice—
“Cress!”
She cried out, forgetting about the vise-like grip around her, except that it kept her from launching herself toward him. “Captain!”
“CRESS!”
The doctor and the guard both spun around as the footsteps barreled down the hall and they all watched as Captain Thorne, blindfolded, ran right past the door.
“Captain! I’m in here!”
The footsteps stopped and reversed and he ran back until his cane smacked the door frame. He froze, panting, one hand braced on the jamb. He had a furious bruise across one side of his face, though it was largely hidden by the bandanna. “Cress? Are you all right?”
Her relief didn’t last. “Captain! To your left there’s a Lunar guard and on your right is a doctor who’s running tests on Lunars and I’m being held by one of Levana’s wolf hybrids and please be careful!”
Thorne took a step back into the hallway and pulled a gun from his waistband. He spent a moment swiveling the barrel of the gun in each direction, but nobody moved to attack him.
With some surprise, Cress realized that the operative’s grip had weakened.
“Er…” Thorne furrowed his brow, aiming the gun somewhere near the window. “Could you describe all those threats again because I feel like I missed something.”
“Thorne?”
He pointed the gun toward Wolf, and Cress between them. “Who said that? Who are you? Have you hurt her? Because I swear if you hurt her—”
The Lunar guard reached forward and plucked the gun out of his hand.
“Hey!” Furious, Thorne raised his cane, but the guard easily blocked the blow with his forearm, then took the cane away too. Thorne raised his fists.
“That’s enough!” yelled the doctor. “No one is hurt and no one is going to get hurt!”
Snarling, Thorne turned to face him. “That’s what you think, wolf man … doctor … wait, Cress, which one is this?”
“I am Dr. Dmitri Erland and I am a friend of Linh Cinder’s. You might know me as the man who helped her escape from New Beijing Prison.”
Thorne snorted. “Nice story, except I’m pretty sure I’m the one who helped Cinder escape from prison.”
“Hardly. The man you just hit is also an ally of Cinder’s, as is the lupine soldier who is still on heavy painkillers and probably delirious and who will no doubt pull out some stitches if he doesn’t lie down right away.”
“Thorne,” the operative said again, ignoring the doctor’s warnings. “What’s going on? Where are we? What happened to your eyes?”
Thorne cocked his head. “Wait … Wolf?”
“Yes.”
There was a long, long pause, before understanding filled Thorne’s expression and he laughed. “Aces, Cress, you nearly gave me a heart attack with that wolf hybrid comment. Why didn’t you tell me it was just him?”
“I … um…”
“Where’s Cinder?” asked Thorne.
“I don’t know,” said Wolf. “And where—I thought Cinder said something about Scarlet? Before?” With one arm still loosely tied around Cress’s neck, he dragged his free hand down his face, moaning. “Just a nightmare…?”
“Cinder is here. She’s safe,” said the doctor.
Thorne grinned, the biggest, most enigmatic grin Cress had seen since the satellite.
Cress gaped around the room, nearly hyperventilating as her worldview flip-flopped before her.
Sybil’s guard, who she had last seen on his way to board the Rampion. Could he have betrayed Sybil and joined them?
The doctor who had helped Cinder escape from prison.
The wolf operative. Only now, with Thorne’s recognition, did she realize this was the man she’d seen on the video feed when they’d first contacted her.
And somewhere … Cinder.
Safe. They were safe.
Thorne held out his hand, and the guard put the cane back into it. “Cress, are you all right?” He crossed the room and bent down as if he could inspect her—or kiss her, though he didn’t. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m … I’m all right.” The words were so foreign, so impossible. So liberating. “How did you find me?”
“One of Jina’s men told me the name of this place, and all I had to do was mention ‘crazy doctor’ to the folks outside and they all knew just who I was talking about.”
Knees suddenly weak, she reached for his forearms to stabilize herself. “You came for me.”
He beamed, looking for all the world like a selfless, daring hero.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” Dropping the cane, he pulled her into a crushing embrace that tore her away from Wolf and lifted her clean off the floor. “It turns out you are worth a lot of money on the black market.”
Forty
Cinder stood with her hair pinched back in both hands and the palace blueprint blurring on the netscreen before her. She’d been staring at it all day, but her brain kept running in circles.
“All right. What if—if the doctor and I could get some invitations and sneak in as guests … and then Jacin could create a diversion … or, no, if you created a diversion and Jacin came as one of the staff … but, the doctor is so well-known. Maybe Jacin and I could enter as guests and the doctor … but then how would we … ugh.” She threw her head back and glowered at the ship’s metal ceiling with its crossed wires and air ducts. “Maybe I’m overcomplicating this. Maybe I should go in alone.”
“Yes, because you aren’t recognizable at all,” said Iko, punctuating her statement by pulling up Cinder’s prison photo in the blueprint’s corner.
Cinder groaned. This was never going to work.
“Oh! Cinder!”
She jolted. “What?”
“This just came across the local newsfeed.” Iko wiped away the blueprint and replaced it with a map of the Sahara Desert. A journalist was speaking in the background, and as they watched, a circle was drawn around some nearby cities, with lines and arrows connecting them. A ticker read: WANTED-CRIMINAL CARSWELL THORNE SPOTTED IN SAHARA TRADING CITY. EVADES CAPTURE. As the journalist jabbered on, Thorne’s prison photo flashed on the screen, followed by the words, bright and bold. ARMED AND DANGEROUS. COMM AUTHORITIES IMMEDIATELY WITH ANY INFORMATION.
Cinder’s stomach twisted, first with remorse, then with panic.
It was a false alarm. Thorne … Thorne was dead. Someone must have seen a look-alike and jumped to conclusions. It wasn’t the first time. According to the media, Cinder had been spotted multiple times in every Earthen country, sometimes in multiple locations at once.
But that didn’t matter. If people believed they’d seen the real thing, then they would come. Law enforcement. The military. Bounty hunters.
The desert was about to be flooded with people searching for them, and the Rampion was still sitting, obvious and enormous, in the middle of a tiny oasis town.
“We can’t stay here,” she said, pulling on her boots. “I’ll go get the others. Iko, run the system diagnostics. Make sure we’re set for space travel again.”
She was down the ramp before Iko could respond, jogging toward the hotel. She hoped it wouldn’t take long for the doctor to pack up his things, and Wolf—
She hoped his wounds had healed enough that it would be all right to move him. The doctor had started reducing his dosages. Would it be safe to wake him?
As she rounded the corner to the hotel, she spotted a girl leaning against an electric vehicle—the car was just old enough to be beat-up and grungy, but not old enough to have gained any vintage appeal. On the other hand, the girl was perhaps in her late teens and gorgeous, with light brown skin and braids dyed in shades of blue.
Cinder slowed, preparing for a fight. She didn’t recognize the girl as one of the townspeople, and something felt wrong about her, though she couldn’t place it. Was she a bounty hunter? An undercover detective?
The girl’s expression stayed blank and bored as Cinder approached.
No outward recognition. That was good.
But then she smiled and twirled one of her silky braids around a finger. “Linh Cinder. Such a pleasure. My master has spoken so highly of you.”
Cinder paused and studied her again. “Who are you?”
“I’m called Darla. I am Captain Thorne’s mistress.”
Cinder blinked. “Excuse me?”
“He asked me to stay and keep watch over the vehicle,” she said. “He’s just gone inside to be heroic. I’m sure he’ll be glad to know you’re here. I believe he’s under the impression that you’re out in space somewhere.”
Cinder glanced from the girl to the hotel. When it seemed that the girl had no intention of reaching for a weapon or handcuffs or leaving her post against the car, Cinder pushed open the door. She rushed up the stairs, her mind spinning with the girl’s words. It was a joke or a trap or a trick. It could not be possible that she was … that Thorne was …
Her foot slammed into the landing so hard she was almost surprised it didn’t crash through the floorboards. As she turned down the corridor she saw Jacin standing outside Wolf’s room, arms crossed.
“Jacin—there’s a girl down there—she said—she—”
He shrugged and gestured toward the room. “See for yourself.”
Using the wall for balance, Cinder joined him in the doorway.
Dr. Erland was there, with a sizable bruise on his jaw.
And Wolf was awake.
And … stars above.
He was filthy. His clothes ripped and covered in dirt and his hair as shaggy as it had been the day she’d met him in his prison cell. His face was bruised, stubble was claiming his jawline, and he wore, of all things, a red bandanna around his eyes.
But he was grinning, with his arm around the waist of a petite blonde girl, and it was undeniably him.