Iko squealed and made to collapse onto Cinder, but reconsidered. Instead, she scurried around Jacin so she could lift Cinder’s shoulders and cradle her head in her lap. Smiling wearily, Cinder reached up to pet Iko’s braids. Her cyborg hand was missing one of its fingers.
“We can’t stay here,” said Jacin, rubbing water droplets from his cropped hair. “They’ll start the search closer to the palace, but it won’t be long before they barricade the whole lake. We need to find someplace for her to recover.”
“Any ideas?” asked Thorne. “We’re not exactly in friendly territory.”
“I need medical supplies,” said Cinder, her eyes shut. “A soldier bit me. Should clean the wound before it’s infected.” She sighed, too exhausted to go on.
“I wouldn’t mind a warm meal and a clothes dryer so long as we’re making demands,” said Thorne. Leaning forward, he stripped off his soaking wet shirt.
Cress’s eyes widened, glued to him as he wrung the lake out of the shirt, water splattering on the concrete.
Jacin said something, but she didn’t catch what.
Thorne pulled his shirt on again, a little more dry and wrinkled now, and Cress was able to breathe again.
“That might work,” said Thorne, nodding at Cinder. “Think you can make it?”
“No,” said Cinder. “I can’t walk.”
“It’s not far,” said Jacin. “I thought you were supposed to be tough.”
Cinder scowled up at him. “I can’t walk. The water did something to my interface.” She paused. Wheezed. “My leg and hand aren’t functioning. Lost net access too.”
Four pairs of eyes shifted to the glistening metal foot. Cress was not in the habit of thinking of Cinder as cyborg—as something other. As someone who could just … stop functioning.
“Fine,” said Jacin, turning to Thorne. “You want to carry her first, or shall I?”
Thorne raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how heavy she is?”
Cinder kicked him.
He huffed. “Fine. You first.”
* * *
“Are we sure about this?” Cress whispered. She was crouched behind a trellis covered in ivy, along with Cinder, Thorne, and Jacin, watching as Iko lifted the shining gold door knocker for the third time.
“I told you, they aren’t home,” said Jacin, annoyed at the precaution of having Iko scout out the pillared mansion before they went in. “This family is popular at court. They’ll be staying at the palace all week.”
After a fourth knock bore no result, Iko turned to them and shrugged.
Cress wrapped an arm around Cinder’s waist—she was a good height to act as a crutch for her as they hobbled through the garden. Cinder’s dead metal foot dragged a groove into the pathway of tumbled blue gla.s.s.
“What if it’s locked?” asked Cress, glancing down the street, although they hadn’t seen a single person. Perhaps this entire neighborhood was made up of popular members of the court. Perhaps this whole city was off having a raucous celebration at the palace.
“Then I’ll pick it,” said Thorne.
The door wasn’t locked. They found themselves in a grandiose entryway with a curved staircase and a sea of gold and white tiles.
Thorne let out a low whistle. “This place is ripe for plundering.”
Iko responded, “Can I go plunder the master closet?”
Jacin found an enormous vase full of flowers and set it on the floor inside the front door, so anyone who opened it would knock it over and shatter the vase into a hundred tiny pieces. Fair warning that it was time for them to leave.
It didn’t take them long to find a kitchen that was bigger than Cress’s satellite. Cress and Iko maneuvered Cinder onto a stool and helped her prop up her leg while Jacin rummaged through the pantry, emerging with an a.s.sortment of nuts and fruits.
“What do you think is wrong with you?” Iko asked.
Cinder smacked her palm against the side of her head, like she hoped to jog something back into place. “It’s not a power issue,” she said. “My eyes are working, at least. It’s something in the connection between the brain-machine interface and my prostheses. It affected both my hand and leg at the same time, so it must be a primary connection. My control panel could have gotten waterlogged or something. Could be a few dead wires.” She sighed. “I guess I should feel lucky. If my power cell had died, I’d be dead with it.”
They mulled over this for a moment, picking at the food.
Thorne glanced back at the pantry. “Did you see any rice in there? Maybe we could fill Cinder’s head with it.”
Everyone stared at him.
“You know, to … absorb the moisture, or something. Isn’t that a thing?”
“We’re not pouring rice in my head.”
“But I’m pretty sure I remember someone putting a portscreen in a bag of rice once after they’d put it through a clothes washer and—”
“Thorne.”
“Just trying to be helpful.”
“What do you need to fix it?” asked Cress, then hunched down between her shoulders as all eyes turned toward her.
Cinder frowned, and Cress could see her working through different possibilities. Then she started to laugh, dragging her good hand through her tangled, still-damp hair. “A mechanic,” she said. “A really good one.”