Winter by Marissa Meyer
“Actually,” said Cress, pulling her wide-eyed gaze away from her portscreen, “one of us has been there.” She input a new command, transferring the feed she was watching up to the holograph.
It was a collection of the queen’s surveillance videos, all labeled LW-12. They were dark and grainy, but as Cinder’s eyes adjusted she could see rows of trees in the outside shots and wood-paneled walls on the interiors. She focused on one of the more crowded feeds, which appeared to be inside a medical building, although it was nothing like the sleek, shiny laboratories of New Beijing.
There were so many people, taking up what few beds there were while others curled against walls or collapsed in corners.
Stepping closer to the image, Jacin enlarged one of the feeds, zooming in on a rash of blue-and-red rings across one patient’s throat, then to the bloodstained pillow beneath another patient’s head.
“It does look like letumosis,” Cinder said, gut spasming with instinctive fear.
“Are those what I think they are?” asked Iko, pointing.
“Lunar soldiers,” Cress confirmed, enlarging one of the outside feeds that showed dozens of mutant men standing among the citizens. Many seemed caught up in a fervent conversation. Cinder had never seen them when they weren’t in attack mode, and if it wasn’t for their deformed faces, they would have looked just like, well, really big, scary men.
Then she spotted someone who was even more shocking than the mutants. A girl with red hair and a hooded sweatshirt and hands settled stubbornly on her hips. “Scarlet!”
Very much alive and very much unafraid of the predators surrounding her. In fact, as she watched, Scarlet seemed to be bossing them around, pointing her finger toward the main doors of the clinic. Half a dozen of the soldiers nodded at her and left.
“I don’t compute,” said Iko.
Thorne laughed, as jovial as Cinder felt. “What’s to compute? They did say they were going to build an army.”
“Yes, but Scarlet wasn’t with us in the desert. How could she be a carrier of the new strain of the disease?”
Cinder started. “You’re right. She could have … picked it up from one of us?”
“None of you are sick.”
She had no answer. She wished Dr. Erland was here, but he had died from the same disease he’d been trying to eradicate.
“What’s that they’re carrying out of the clinic?” asked Thorne.
Jacin crossed his arms. “A suspended-animation tank.”
Four soldiers had the tank hefted between them, while others propped open the main doors of the med-clinic for them to pass through. Outside, hundreds of civilians had gathered—those who weren’t already sick. The soldiers pushed them back to make room for the tank.
Jacin inhaled sharply and stepped up beside the holograph, bringing the feed into focus. He paused. Scrolled back. Zoomed in closer.
“Oh, no,” Cinder whispered. Another familiar face was encapsulated beneath the tank’s glass lid. Princess Winter.
Sixty-Six
There were no mirrors in the lab, not even in the tiled room with the sterilizing shower Wolf had been taken to in order to wash the sticky gel out of his hair. He didn’t need a mirror, though, to know what they’d done. He could see the difference in his bone structure when he looked at his hands and feet. He could feel the difference in his protruding mouth, his enlarged teeth, his malformed jaw. They’d altered his facial bone structure, making way for the row of implanted canine teeth. There was a new curvature to his shoulders and an awkward flex of his feet, which looked more like paws now, made for running and bounding at great speeds. His hands were enormous, now fixed with reinforced, claw-shaped fingernails.
He could even smell it inside himself. New chemicals and hormones pumping through his veins. Testosterone. Adrenaline. Pheromones. He wondered when the new fur would start sprouting over his skin, completing the transformation.
He was miserable. He was everything he had never wanted to be.
He was also starving.
A uniform had been left for him, similar to the uniform he’d worn as a special operative. A formality for his role at the coronation. Most of the bioengineered soldiers received far less distinguished clothing, being more animal than man.
And now he was one of them. He tried to temper his disgust. After all, who was he to pass judgment on his brothers?
Yet his emotions continued to fluctuate. Furious and burning one moment. Devastated and full of self-loathing the next.
This was his fate. This had always been his fate. He couldn’t imagine how he had ever thought differently. Had he honestly believed he could be better? That he deserved more? He was destined to kill and eat and destroy. That was all he was entitled to.
Suddenly, his nose twitched.
Food.
Saliva rolled onto his tongue and he wicked it against his sharp teeth. Something in his stomach roiled, angry at its own hollowness.
He shuddered, remembering this hunger from back when he had first begun training as an operative. He had both craved and hated the slabs of barely cooked meat they were presented, and the way they had to fight for their own piece, confirming the pack’s pecking order in the process. Even then, the hunger had not been this bad.
He swallowed, hard, and finished dressing.
His body had begun to shake when he opened the door and the aroma of the food burst in his nostrils. He was almost panting.
Thaumaturge Bement and the lab technician were still there, though the unconscious man had been removed. The technician shrank back when she saw Wolf’s expression. She situated herself behind another suspension tank, filled with some other victim.
“That look must mean there’s food in the building,” she said.
“Indeed.” The thaumaturge was leaning against a wall, perusing her portscreen. “They are in the elevator with it now.”
“I didn’t realize you were going to have him eat here. Have you ever seen one of them when they’ve first eaten?”
“I will handle him. Go about your business.”
Casting one more hesitant glance at Wolf, the woman returned to checking the diagnostics screens on the tank.
There was a chime down the hallway and the aroma of food wafted a hundred times stronger still. Wolf gripped the door frame. His legs were weak with lust, his knees ready to give out beneath him.
A servant arrived, pushing a wooden cart draped with a white cloth. “Mistress,” he said, bowing to the thaumaturge. He was dismissed.
Wolf’s senses were being pummeled. His ears pricked at the hiss of steam. His stomach spasmed with desire. Lamb.
“Are you hungry?”
He snarled, growling at the thaumaturge. He could lunge at her now, have the woman torn to bits before she even knew what was happening. But something held him back. Some deep-seated fear. Memories of another thaumaturge breaking his will.
“I asked you a question. I know you’re nothing but an animal now, but I still think you’re smart enough to answer with a simple yes or no.”
“Yes,” Wolf grunted.
“Yes, what?”
Rage nearly blinded him, but it was shoved back down. Wolf grimaced against the uprise of hatred. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Good. We do not have time to get to know each other and build the relationship of understanding a thaumaturge would normally form with her pack. But I did want to illustrate for you two main principles, in a way that your little animal brain can understand.” She whisked off the white cloth, revealing a platter overflowing with seared meat and bones, cartilage and marrow.
Wolf shuddered with hunger, but also with disgust. Disgust at the meat, and disgust at his own cravings. An odd memory eclipsed this new urge. Something glossy and red and bursting with juice—tomatoes.
They’re the best part, and they were grown in my own garden …
“The first thing you need to know as a member of Her Majesty’s army is that a good dog will always be rewarded.” The thaumatu
He flapped his head, willing away the unfamiliar voice. It was that girl again. The red-haired girl who was so repulsed by him.
Wolf’s legs moved of their own accord, drawing him toward the cart. His stomach yearned. His tongue lagged.
But as soon as he reached a clawed hand toward the platter, pain lanced through his gut. He doubled over in agony. His legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor, his shoulder smacking the edge of the cart and sending it crashing into the nearby wall. The pain dragged on and on, arcing through every limb, like a thousand daggers burying themselves in his flesh.
The thaumaturge smiled.
The pain relented. Wolf was left trembling on the ground, his cheeks damp from sweat or tears or both.
The torture wasn’t new to him. He remembered it from his training before, with Jael. But he had not felt it since he’d become the alpha. A prized soldier. A good, loyal pup.
“And that,” said the thaumaturge, “is what will happen should you disappoint me. Do we have an understanding?”
He nodded shakily, his muscles still twitching.
“Do we have an understanding?”
He coughed. “Yes. Mistress.”
“Good.” Taking the tray off the cart, the thaumaturge dropped it onto the floor beside him. “Now eat your meal like a good dog. Our queen awaits.”
Sixty-Seven
Kai was beginning to understand why Levana had set the time for the coronations as she had. The ceremony was coming at the end of Artemisia’s long night—two weeks of darkness, broken up only with artificial light. This would be the first real sunrise Kai had seen since he’d been on Luna. A new dawn, a new day, a new empire.
It was all very symbolic.
He simultaneously longed for this day to be over, and wanted it to never come at all.
Standing amid the lapping waves of Artemisia Lake, staring at the blue-black water that spanned as far as he could see, Kai hoped Levana’s new dawn would be very different than she expected, although his hope was spread thin. He didn’t know if Cinder had survived the fall into the lake, or if the people of Luna would heed her call, or if they would succeed even if they tried.
At least he knew with certainty that the video footage of Cinder’s reclaimed body was fake. Even from the distant, blurry footage, Kai could tell it wasn’t her, but some dummy or an actor or some other poor victim dragged from the lake bottom and made to look like Cinder.
If they were faking her death, she hadn’t been found.
She was alive. She had to be alive.
At least, with the coronation drawing closer, the queen had begun to relax some of the restrictions on Kai and the other Earthen guests. He was finally free to roam the palace and even venture down to the lakeshore, though every step was trailed by a pair of matching Lunar guards.
He’d spent his whole life surrounded by guards, though. It had gotten easier to ignore them.
She’d even let him have his portscreen back so he could check on the Earthen newsfeeds and confirm for them that all was well up here on Luna.
Ha.
The sand slipped out from beneath his feet as the surf pulled back into the lake. The world disintegrating beneath him. He was mildly curious whether this was moon rock pulverized to fine sand, or if it had long ago been imported from some white Earthen beach. So many times since coming here he had wished that he’d spent more time researching the history between Earth and Luna. He wanted to know what the relationship had been like when Luna was a peaceful colony, and, later, an allied republic. For years Earth had supplied Luna with building materials and natural resources, and Luna had returned valuable research in the fields of space exploration and astronomy. Knowing it had once been a beneficial relationship suggested it could be again.
But not with Levana.
Scanning the shore on either side of the lake, Kai watched the royal guards still searching, waiting for a bedraggled cyborg to wash ashore. Kai had also seen them patrolling the city streets from his window, and if they thought it was possible Cinder had survived and gone into hiding, then Kai would believe it was possible too.
Meanwhile, the palace was bustling with final preparations for the coronation. The aristocrats—or families—were very good at faking unadulterated merriment. Even the havoc from Cinder’s failed execution had been swept away like a minor mishap, bound to happen from time to time. Everyone seemed happy to leave the manhunt to the guards while they commenced with their drinking and eating and revelries.
If they were at all concerned over Cinder’s calls for revolution, they weren’t showing it. Kai wondered if a single member of the court would take up arms against the people if it came to that, or if they would cower in their fancy mansions and wait for it to be over, happy to claim allegiance to whoever sat on the throne once the chaos had ended.
Thinking it, Kai shut his eyes and bit his tongue against a smirk, knowing the fantasy was petty. But oh, how he would love to see their faces if—when—Cinder became queen and informed the families that their indulgent way of life was coming to an end.
A throat cleared behind Kai, drawing his attention over his shoulder. Torin stood in a formal tuxedo, already dressed for the coronation though it was hours away.
“His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Rikan,” Torin said. It was a code they had devised with the rest of the Earthen guests—to begin each meeting by mentioning some other person who had been present when they had first formally met. It had been Kai’s idea, so they could always make sure they were speaking to the person they believed they were speaking to, rather than a Lunar using a tricky glamour.
Kai smiled at the mention of his father. He didn’t remember meeting Torin, who had been a permanent fixture in the palace since before Kai’s birth.
“My mother,” he said, by way of reply.
Torin’s gaze dropped down to Kai’s bare feet and rolled-up slacks, but didn’t linger. “Any news?”
“Nothing. You?”
“I spoke briefly with President Vargas earlier. He and the other American representatives feel threatened. They feel we’re all being held hostage.”
“Smart man.” A wave crashed into Kai, and he swayed with it, curling his toes into the wet sand. “Levana believes she has us right where she wants us.”
“Is she wrong?”
Kai frowned, and didn’t respond. His silence was followed by a sigh.
Glancing back, Kai saw Torin untying his dress shoes and removing his socks. He rolled up his pant hems before coming to stand beside Kai in the surf.
“I told President Vargas that once Levana has the title of empress, she will feel less defensive and we’ll be able to set rational boundaries around a new Earthen-Lunar alliance.” He hesitated, before adding, “I didn’t say anything about Princess Selene. I felt he would see any hope placed in her as nothing more than a fairy tale.”
Kai bit the inside of his cheek and hoped that wasn’t the case. He had been putting his faith in Princess Selene even before he’d found her. Even before he’d known she was the most capable, resourceful, determined person he’d ever met. Even before he’d started having fantasies of a royal Earthen-Lunar marriage that didn’t involve Levana at all.
“Your Majesty,” said Torin, with a tone that said he was about to broach a subject Kai wasn’t going to like. Kai braced himself accordingly. “Have you given thought to what your next move will be should our hoped-for outcome not come to pass?”
“You mean if Cinder is dead and the people don’t rebel and tomorrow morning I find myself stuck with an empress who wants to kill me and take control of my military and wage war on my allies until they all succumb to her will?”
Torin made a derisive sound in the back of his throat. “I suppose you have been thinking about it.”
“It’s crossed my mind a time or two.” He peered at Torin from the corner of his eye, surprised to find that looking at his adviser felt like looking at an older
He checked that the Lunar guards were out of earshot before asking, “What’s the status of the bombs that could weaken these biodomes?”
“I’m told we have a dozen built and ready for deployment, but it will be weeks before a second batch is complete. The most we could hope for at this point is to weaken them, but I don’t think it would be enough to deter Levana completely.”
“Unless we target the dome that she’s in,” said Kai.
Torin’s lips twitched downward. “That is also the dome that we are in.”
“I know.” With a sigh, Kai curled his toes into the silt. “Prepare the fleet. I want a regiment of armed ships positioned in neutral space, as close to Luna as they can get without warranting concern. After the coronation, if Levana doesn’t allow the other leaders to leave, we might be able to threaten her into consenting. I’d like everyone else off this moon as soon as possible.”
“Everyone else? What about you?”
Kai shook his head. “I have to make sure Levana gives up the letumosis antidote. I don’t know where she’s keeping it, but if it’s here in Artemisia, we can’t risk it being destroyed. I need to make sure we retrieve it and get it to Earth as quickly as possible. I have to succeed at that, if nothing else.”
“And once the antidote is secured,” Torin said, “our priority must be your own safety. If she does mean to have you killed so she can assume control of the Commonwealth, we need to take steps to make sure it doesn’t happen. We will have increased security around you at all times. And physical separation from the queen will be mandatory. I will not have her brainwashing you into committing self-harm.”
Kai smiled, heartened somewhat by the protectiveness in Torin’s voice. “All sound suggestions, Torin, but it won’t be necessary.”