That had been back when Cress still harbored hopes of one day being welcome here, before her imprisonment aboard the satellite. She should have known better when Sybil refused to ever bring her through this breathtaking main entrance, instead smuggling her in through the underground tunnels as something shameful and secret.
At least this time she was entering the palace beside an ally and a friend. If there was anyone in the galaxy she trusted, it was Thorne.
As if hearing her thoughts, Thorne pressed a hand against her lower back.
“Pretend you belong here,” he murmured against her ear, “and everyone else will believe it.”
Pretend you belong here.
She let out a slow breath and tried to mimic Thorne’s swagger. Pretending. She was good at pretending.
Today, she was Lunar aristocracy. She was a guest of Her Royal Majesty. She was on the arm of the most handsome man she had ever known—a man who didn’t even have to use a glamour. But most important …
“I am a criminal mastermind,” she murmured, “and I’m here to take down this regime.”
Thorne grinned at her. “That’s my line.”
“I know,” she said. “I stole it.”
Thorne chuckled and strategically placed them behind a group of Lunars, close enough that they would appear part of the group, and they glided up the white stone stairs. The doors loomed larger and larger as they stepped into the palace’s shadow. The chatter of the courtyard was replaced with the echo of stone floors and the resounding laughter of people with nothing to fear.
She and Thorne were inside the palace. As far as she could tell, the guards hadn’t even looked at them.
Cress released her breath, but it snagged again as she took in the extravagance.
More aristocrats loitered in droves in the grand entrance, picking at trays of food that floated in the basins of crystal-blue pools. Everywhere were gilded columns and marble statues and flower arrangements that stood twice as tall as she was. Most breathtaking of all was a statue at the center of the hall depicting the ancient moon G.o.ddess, Artemis. It towered three stories tall and showed the G.o.ddess wearing a th.o.r.n.y crown atop her head and holding an arched bow, the arrow pointing toward the sky.
“Good day,” said a man, stepping forward to greet them. Thorne’s fingers dug into Cress’s back.
The man wore the uniform of a high-ranking servant, though his dreadlocked hair was dyed in variegated green—pale foam green at the roots and deep emerald at the tips. Though Cress was on guard, waiting for suspicion or disgust, the man’s face was pure joviality. Perhaps servants, like the guards, were chosen for having little talent with their gift, and he wasn’t able to sense that Cress was nothing but a sh.e.l.l.
She could hope.
“We are glad you have come to enjoy the festivities on this most celebrated day,” the man said. “Please enjoy the comforts our generous queen has laid out for her guests.” He gestured to his left. “In this wing you are free to enjoy our menagerie, full of exotic albino animals, or listen to an a.s.sortment of musical performances that will be taking place in our grand theater throughout the day.” He lifted his right arm. “This way there is an a.s.sortment of game rooms should you care to test the providence of luck, as well as our renowned companionship rooms—not that the gentleman is in need of further companionship. Of course, a variety of refreshments are available throughout the palace. The coronation ceremony will begin at sunrise and we ask that all guests begin to make their way to the great hall at half before. For the safety of all our guests, there will be no continued access to the corridors once the coronation has begun. If you require anything to make your day more pleasurable, please let me or another courtier know.”
With a tilt of his head, he walked off to welcome another guest.
“What do you suppose he meant by ‘companionship rooms’?” Thorne asked.
When Cress shot him a glare, he stood straighter and ran a finger in between his throat and his shirt collar. “Not that I’m tempted to … or … this way, right?”
“You two seem lost,” someone purred.
Thorne spun around, tucking Cress behind him as he did. A man and a woman were standing not far away, eyeing Thorne as if he were on display in a candy shop window. Both of them wore rhinestone-studded suits.
The man dropped a pair of thick-framed gla.s.ses to the end of his nose, letting his gaze swoop over Thorne from head to foot and back up. “Maybe we can help you find your way?”
Thorne was quick to draw on his signature grin. “Flattered, ladies,” he purred right back.
Cress frowned, but then, realizing the man must have glamoured himself as a woman, schooled her face into indifference. She couldn’t let on to anyone that she wasn’t affected by mind control.
“We’re on something of a covert mission right now,” Thorne was saying, “but we’ll keep our eye out for you at the coronation.”
“Ooh, a covert mission,” swooned the woman, chewing on her pinkie nail. “I will want to hear that story later.”
Thorne winked. “I will want to tell it.” Wrapping an arm around Cress’s shoulders, he led her away from the couple. When they had gone far enough that he was sure they wouldn’t be overheard, Thorne let out a low whistle. “Holy spades. The women in this place.”
Cress bristled. “You mean, the glamours in this place. One of them was a man.”
Stumbling, Thorne looked down at her. “You don’t say. Which one?”