A headache began to throb against her temples, a reminder that she would be crying right now. If she were normal.
Arms wrapped around her.
Cinder pressed her face against his silk shirt. There was some sort of cologne or maybe soap there—so faint she hadn’t picked up on it before.
“I know exactly how you feel,” Kai said.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Not exactly.”
“I think pretty close.”
She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. More than anything, I’m afraid that … the more I fight her and the stronger I become, the more I’m turning into her.”
Sitting back on his heels, Kai pulled away just enough to look into her face without releasing her. “You’re not turning into Levana.”
“Are you sure about that? Because I manipulated your adviser today, and countless guards. I manipulated Wolf. I … I killed a police officer, in France, and I would have killed more people if I’d had to, people in your own military, and I don’t even know if I would feel bad about it, because there are always ways to justify it. It’s for the good of everyone, isn’t it? Sacrifices have to be made. And then there are the mirrors, such a stupid, stupid thing, but they—I’m beginning to get it. Why she hates them so much. And then—” She shuddered. “Today, I tortured her thaumaturge. I didn’t just manipulate her. I tortured her. And I almost enjoyed it.”
“Cinder, look at me.” He cupped her face. “I know you’re scared, and you have every right to be. But you are not turning into Queen Levana.”
“You can’t know that.”
“But I do.”
“She’s my aunt, you know.”
He smoothed back her hair. “Yeah, well, my great-grandfather signed the Cyborg Protection Act. And yet, here we are.”
She bit her lip. Here they were.
“Now, let’s never talk about you being related to her again. Because I’m technically still engaged to her, and that’s really weird.”
Cinder couldn’t help laughing, even exhaustedly, even just to cover up the screaming inside, as he bound her up in his arms again. Her headache began to fade, replaced with the strength of his heartbeat and the way she felt almost delicate when she was pressed up against him like this.
Almost fragile.
Almost safe.
Almost like a princess.
“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” she murmured.
“I won’t.”
“And if it turns out I make a terrible princess?”
He shrugged against her. “The people of Luna don’t need a princess. They need a revolutionary.”
Cinder furrowed her brow. “A revolutionary,” she repeated. She liked that a lot better than princess.
The door zipped open.
Cinder and Kai jumped apart, Kai scrambling to his feet.
Cress, breathless and flushed, paused in the doorway.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But the newsfeeds—Levana—”
“I know,” said Cinder, forcing herself to stand. “I know about Farafrah.”
Cress shook her head, wild-eyed. “It isn’t just Farafrah. Their ships are swarming Earth, every continent. Thousands of soldiers are invading the cities. Her other soldiers.” She shuddered so hard she had to grasp the door frame. “They’re like animals, like predators.”
“What is Earth doing?” asked Kai, and Cinder recognized his leader voice. “Are we defending ourselves?”
“They’re trying. All six countries have declared a state of war. Evacuations are being ordered, military is assembling—”
“All six?”
Cress pushed her hair off her brow. “Konn Torin has temporarily assumed the role of leader of the Commonwealth … until your return.”
A heavy silence pressed against Cinder’s chest. Then Kai turned to face her, and she could feel the gravity of his emotions without looking at him.
“I think it’s about time you told me about this plan,” he said.
Cinder curled her hands into tight fists. The possibility of their success had seemed so faint that she’d hardly considered what would come next. She’d hoped they would have some time, at least a day or two, but she saw now that there would be no such respite.
War had begun.
“You said yourself that the people of Luna need a revolutionary.” She lifted her chin, holding his gaze. “So I’m going to Luna, and I’m going to start a revolution.”
Acknowledgments
Where, oh where, to begin.
The marvelous team at the Macmillan Children’s Publishing Group continues to amaze me with their brilliance, creativity, and enthusiasm. My editor, Liz Szabla, my publisher, Jean Feiwel, along with Lauren Burniac, Rich Deas, Lucy Del Priore, Elizabeth Fithian, Courtney Griffin, Anna Roberto, Allison Verost, Emily Waters-Curley, Ksenia Winnicki, and no doubt countless others who work tirelessly behind the scenes to bring these books out into the world—you are all awesome. Thank you.
My agency team—Jill Grinberg, Cheryl Pientka, and Katelyn Detweiler—is a constant source of comfort and encouragement. I am so grateful for everything you do.
I’m lucky to have amazing beta readers who have given me priceless feedback on this series since day one. Tamara Felsinger, Jennifer Johnson, and Meghan Stone-Burgess, I really couldn’t do it without you. And thanks to the rest of the UM Girls, who are so clever and hilarious and supportive, and to Tuxedo Mask, for bringing us together.
Thanks to blog readers Melissa Anne and Mark Murata, along with Kasey Andrews, Brittney, Chantalle, Elisabeth, Megan, and Miniwriter12 from Goodreads, who helped me develop the discussion questions for Scarlet, a task no author should have to conquer alone.
Last, but never, ever least, a thousand thank-yous to my husband, my parents, my family, and my friends who have helped me plan launch parties (thanks, Mom!), designed swag (thanks, Leilani!), styled my hair for a book tour (thanks, Chelsea!), kept me from going crazy on said tour (thanks, honey!), and who smile knowingly when I space out during a conversation because I just had a really great idea for The Book. I love you guys.
