If he didn’t, she could always force him to.
Levana felt lighter already, knowing she would never have to see her stepdaughter’s face again.
She dropped her hand and floated back to the windows. Beyond the curved dome she could see the barren landscape of Luna, white craters and cliffs against the black sky. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” said Jacin.
She raised an eyebrow.
“I wish to resign from the royal guard. I ask to be rea.s.signed to the sector where my father was sent years ago. This palace holds too many memories for me.”
Levana’s face softened. “I am sure it does, Jacin. I am sorry that I had to ask this of you. But your request is denied.”
His nostrils flared.
“You have proven yourself to be loyal and trustworthy, traits I would be remiss to lose. You may take leave for the rest of today, with my grat.i.tude, but tomorrow you will report for your new a.s.signment.” She grinned. “Well done, Jacin. You are dismissed.”
Thirty-Two
Cinder was losing her mind. They had been hiding in Maha Kesley’s tiny shack for days. Wolf and his mother, Thorne, Iko, and herself, all crammed into little rooms, tripping over one another every time they tried to move. Though they didn’t move much. There was nowhere to go. They were afraid to be heard through the small, gla.s.sless windows, so they communicated mostly in hand signals and messages tapped out on their one remaining portscreen. The silence was horrendous. The stillness was suffocating. The waiting, agony.
She thought often of Cress and Scarlet and wondered if either of them was alive.
She worried about Kai as the wedding loomed ever closer.
There was guilt too. Not only had they put Maha in danger by being there, they were also eating far too much food, having already burned through the measly packs they’d brought with them. Maha said nothing about it, but Cinder could tell. Food was strictly rationed in the outer sectors, and Maha was barely able to feed herself.
They spent their days trying to rework their plan, but after all the plotting they’d done aboard the Rampion, Cinder was disheartened to be back at square one. The video they’d recorded remained unused—copies of it downloaded not only to the portscreen, but to Cinder’s and Iko’s internal computers too. It didn’t matter how many copies of it they had. Without Cress being there to tap into the broadcasting system, the video was useless.
They discussed starting a gra.s.sroots movement. Maha Kesley could spread the word of Selene’s return to the laborers in the mine and let the news spread from there. Or they could send messengers through the tunnels, scrawling messages on the tunnel walls. But these were slow strategies, with too much risk for miscommunication and little chance the news would spread far.
There was a reason Levana kept her people isolated from one another. There was a reason no one had attempted a cohesive rebellion yet, not because they didn’t want to. It was clear from the government-sanctioned propaganda that Levana and her ancestors had sought to brainwash the Lunar people into a belief that their rule was righteous and fated. It was equally clear from the tunnel graffiti and the people’s downcast eyes that they no longer believed it, if they ever had.
Any spark of defiance may have been starved and threatened out of them, but the more Lunars Cinder saw, the more she believed she could reignite them.
All she needed was a way to talk to them.
Maha had gone to the maglev platform to wait in line for her weekly rations, leaving the rest of them staring at a holographic map of Luna. It had been over an hour, but few suggestions had been posed.
Cinder was beginning to feel hopeless, and all the while, the clock was ticking. To the wedding. To the coronation. To their inevitable discovery.
An unexpected chorus of chimes made Cinder jump. The map faded, the feed overridden by a mandatory message being broadcast from the capital. Cinder knew that the same message would be playing on a dozen embedded screens on the dome outside, making sure that every citizen saw it.
Head Thaumaturge Aimery Park appeared before them, handsome and arrogant. Cinder recoiled. The holograph made it seem as though he were in the room with them.
“Good people of Luna,” he said, “please stop what you are doing and listen to this announcement. I am afraid we have tragic news to impart. Earlier today, Her Royal Highness, Princess Winter Hayle-Blackburn, stepdaughter of Her Majesty the Queen, was found murdered in the royal menagerie.”
Cinder’s brow furrowed and she traded frowns with her companions. She knew little about the princess, only that she was said to be beautiful and the people loved her, which must mean Levana hated her. She had heard of the princess’s scarred face, a punishment inflicted by the queen herself, or so the rumors went.
“We are reviewing security footage in an attempt to bring the murderer to justice, and we will not rest until our beloved princess is avenged. Though our devoted queen is devastated at this loss, she wishes to proceed with her wedding ceremony as scheduled, so we might have joy in this time of sadness. A funeral procession for Her Highness will be scheduled for the coming weeks. Princess Winter Hayle-Blackburn will be missed by us all, but never forgotten.”
Aimery’s face disappeared.
“Do you think Levana killed her?” Iko asked.
“Of course I do,” Cinder said. “I wonder what the princess did to anger her.”
Thorne folded his arms. “I’m not sure you have to do anything to earn Levana’s wrath.”
He looked ragged, unshaven and weary, even more so than the day Cinder had met him in New Beijing Prison. Though no one had dared to talk about abandoning Cress, Cinder knew he was taking her loss harder than any of them. She’d sensed from the moment they were reunited in Farafrah that Thorne felt a responsibility toward Cress, but for the first time she was beginning to wonder if his feelings didn’t go deeper than that.