Don’t react. Do not react.
Steadying her breath, she forged ahead, Winter trailing beside her. She caught E7 stenciled on a wall to her left, E8 on her right. Almost there.
It took every ounce of willpower not to sprint to Bay 22.
“Can I help you?”
They paused. A worker stepped toward them wearing filthy coveralls. “What are you…” He caught himself, his gaze landing on Winter, or what he could see of her down-turned face. “I … forgive me. Your Highness?”
Winter looked up. Color flooded into the man’s cheeks.
“It is you,” he breathed. “I didn’t … can I help you, Your Highness?”
Scarlet bristled. No one else had noticed them yet. She grabbed the man’s arm before he bowed. “Her Highness does not wish to be gawked at. If you want to help, you can escort us to Bay 22.”
Anxiety flashed across the man’s face and he nodded, as if he were afraid of her. Maybe he thought she was a thaumaturge in training.
“Y-yes, of course. Right this way.”
Scarlet released him and shot Winter a cool glare, gesturing for her to hide her face again. The man’s stride was stiff as he led them past hovering cargo platforms and crates on complicated tracks. Scratching his neck with his free hand, he glanced twice over his shoulder.
“Is something wrong?” said Scarlet, steel in her tone.
“N-no. I’m sorry.”
“Then stop looking at her.”
He opened his mouth and Scarlet thought he wanted to mention the blood or the grime or Winter’s very existence, but then he shut it again and kept his head down.
Some of the alcoves they pa.s.sed had heavy metal doors over them, but most were open, showing docked ships within.
“See?” Winter whispered. “Mushrooms, and the shadows that dance.”
Scarlet followed her gesture. The s.p.a.cecrafts’ shadows on the walls did look something like dancing mushrooms. Sort of. If she tilted her head and squinted just right.
“Bay 22, Your Highness.”
Scarlet glanced at the number over the arched door and the podship enclosed within. It was a two-person carrier, inset with the gold insignia of the royal court.
“Thank you,” said Scarlet. “That will be all.”
The man’s eyebrows st.i.tched together. “Will … will you need an escort back?”
Scarlet shook her head and linked her elbow with Winter’s again, but had only taken two steps when she paused. “Tell no one you saw us,” she told the man. “But if someone asks, tell them we glamoured you into helping us. Understand?”
His round eyes fell on Winter, who smiled warmly. His blush deepened.
“I’m not so sure you didn’t,” he muttered.
Rolling her eyes, Scarlet hauled the princess toward the ship. She checked that the man was gone before she opened the pilot’s side door and nudged Winter inside. “All the way over, unless you plan on flying this thing.”
Winter complied without question. Scarlet removed the knife from her waistband and settled it between them. She shut the door and the noise of the docks silenced in the vacuum-sealed ship.
Scarlet exhaled, willing her hands to stop shaking. Willing the mess of controls in front of her to come into focus. She examined the c.o.c.kpit, noting what was similar to the delivery ship she’d flown since she was fifteen and what was different.
“I can do this,” she whispered, pressing her fingers against the main screen. It brightened. The controls lit up.
SECURITY CLEARANCE UNDETERMINED
She stared at the message. She had to read it four times before the meaning of the words sank in. She half expected their phantom helper to override the ship’s security and start the engines for her too. When nothing happened, she remembered the cylinder Jacin had given her. She fished it from her pocket and popped off its cap, holding her breath as she jammed it into the corresponding security port.
An icon whirled over the message.
And whirled.
And whirled.
Her stomach tightened. A drop of sweat slid down the back of her neck.
CLEARANCE GRANTED. WELCOME, ROYAL GUARD JACIN CLAY.
Scarlet whooped, dizzy with relief. She jogged a few switches. The engine hummed and the ship lifted up on the magnetic force beneath the ports, steady and sure. Outside their alcove, a series of cargo ships were making their way toward the sealed chamber that separated Artemisia’s Port E from the emptiness of s.p.a.ce. They could slip in right behind them and no one would stop a royal ship, no one would even question—
“Wait,” said Winter as Scarlet nudged the podship forward.
Scarlet’s heart dropped. “What?” she said, scanning the port for a thaumaturge, a guard, a threat.
Winter reached over and pulled the pilot’s harness over Scarlet’s head. “Safety first, Scarlet-friend. We are fragile things.”
Thirty-One
Winter was mesmerized by Scarlet’s confident hands as they skimmed over the ship’s controls. Behind the ship, enormous iron doors slammed shut, locking them in a vacuum-sealed chamber with a dozen other ships waiting to be released from Artemisia’s underground port. Tearing her attention away from Scarlet and the twinkling instruments, Winter glanced over her shoulder at the interlocking doors—so ancient they looked almost like they had existed on the moon even before colonization.
Now they divided her from the ports, the city, the palace.
And Jacin.
Scarlet was all nerves, tapping her fingers across the instruments. “How long is this going to take?”