“What is this?” Sybil said, nearing the screen.
“It’s—it’s a game. I’ve been playing it with the computer.” Her voice squeaked. Her face was warming, cooled only where her damp hair clung to her cheeks.
There was a long silence.
Cress tried to feign indifference. “Just a silly game, imagining the computer is a real person … you know how my imagination can be, when I get lonely. Sometimes it’s nice to have someone to talk to, even if they’re not—”
Sybil grabbed Cress’s jaw, shoving her against a window that overlooked the blue planet.
“Is it her?” Sybil hissed. “Have you been lying to me?”
Cress couldn’t speak, her tongue heavy with terror, as if she were pinned by a glamour. But this was not magic. This was only a woman strong enough and angry enough to tear Cress’s arms from their sockets, to break her skull against the corner of the desk.
“You had better not even think to lie to me, Crescent. How long have you been communicating with her?”
Her lips trembled. “S-since yesterday,” she half sobbed. “I was trying to earn her trust. I thought if I could get close enough, I could tell you and—”
A slap sent the world spinning and Cress hit the floor. Her cheek burned and her brain took a moment to stop rattling inside her skull.
“You hoped she was going to rescue you,” said Sybil.
“No. No, Mistress.”
“After all I’ve done for you. Saved your life when your parents meant to have you slaughtered.”
“I know, Mistress. I was going to bring her to you, Mistress. I was trying to help.”
“I even allowed you net access to watch those disgusting Earthen feeds, and this is how you repay me?” Sybil eyed the screen, where the message still lingered. “But at least you’ve finally done something useful.”
Cress shuddered. Her brain began to cloud with the instinctual need to run, to escape. She shoved herself off the floor, but tripped on her hair and landed hard against the closed doors. Her fingers sought out the keypad, punching in the command. The doors zipped open. She did not wait to see Sybil’s reaction. “Close door!”
Cress flew down the corridor, lungs burning. She couldn’t breathe. She was hyperventilating. She had to get out.
Another door loomed before her, an identical switch beside it. She barreled into it. “Open!”
It did.
She stumbled forward and her abdomen smacked into a railing. She grunted from the collision, bracing herself before she could topple over it and straight into the cockpit.
She stood, panting and staring wide-eyed at the interior of a small podship. Lights and flashing panels and screens glowed all around her. The windows formed a wall of glass separating her from a sea of stars.
And there was a man.
His hair was the color of golden straw and his body strong and broad in his royal uniform. He looked like he could be threatening, but at that moment he seemed only astonished.
He raised himself from the pilot seat. They gawked at each other as Cress struggled to find words amid her tumbling thoughts.
Sybil did not come alone. Sybil had a pilot that brought her here.
Another human being knew that Cress existed.
No—another Lunar knew that Cress existed.
“Help me,” she tried to whisper, gulping when the words couldn’t form. “Please. Please help me.”
He shut his mouth. Cress’s hands twitched on the bar. “Please?” Her voice broke.
The man flexed his fingers and she thought—was it only her imagination?—his eyes seemed to soften. To sympathize.
Or to calculate.
His hand shifted toward the controls. The command to shut the door? To disengage from the satellite? To fly her far away from this prison?
“I don’t suppose you killed her?” he said.
The words seemed like they came from a different language altogether. He said them emotionlessly—a simple question. Expecting a simple answer.
Killed her? Killed her?
Before she could form a response, the guard’s eyes sped past her.
Sybil grabbed a fistful of Cress’s hair and yanked her back toward the corridor. Cress screamed and collapsed onto the ground.
“Jacin, we are about to have company,” said Sybil, ignoring Cress’s sobs. “Separate yourself from this satellite, but stay close enough to have good visual without drawing suspicion. When an Earthen ship draws close, they will likely release one podship—wait until the pilot has boarded this satellite and then rejoin us using the opposite entry hatch. I will ensure the clamp is pre-extended.”
Cress trembled, nonsense words falling from her in hopeless pleas.
The man’s sympathy and astonishment were gone, vanished as if they’d never been there. Perhaps they never had.
He jerked his head in a nod. No question. No thought to disobey.
Though Cress screamed and kicked, Sybil managed to drag her all the way back to the satellite’s main room, tossing her like a bag of broken android parts on the floor.
The door shut behind them, dividing her from the exit, from her freedom, and with its familiar clang she knew.
She would never be free. Sybil was going to kill her, as she was going to kill Linh Cinder and Carswell Thorne.
When Cress pushed back her mess of hair, a sob shook her to the bones.
Sybil was smiling.
“I suppose I should thank you. Linh Cinder is going to come to me, and our queen will be so pleased.” Bending down, Sybil grasped Cress’s chin in a claw-like grip. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll survive long enough to receive your reward.”
Nine
Cinder groaned, the impact of her most recent landing still reverberating through her spine. The cargo bay’s ceiling spun and wobbled in her vision. “Was that necessary?”
Wolf and Scarlet appeared above her.
“I’m sorry,” said Wolf. “I thought you had control. Are you all right?”
“Frustrated and sore, but, yes, I’m fine.” She forced herself to take Wolf’s outstretched hand. He and Scarlet both helped her to her feet. “You’re right. I lost focus. I felt your energy snap out of my hold, like a rubber band.” That was moments before Wolf completed the maneuver she’d managed to halt for six whole seconds—grasping her arm and tossing her over his shoulder. She rubbed her hip. “I need a moment.”
“Maybe you should call it quits for the day,” said Scarlet. “We’re almost to the satellite.”
Iko chimed in. “Estimated time of arrival is nine minutes, thirty-four seconds. Which, by my estimation, is enough time for Cinder to be defeated and embarrassed in seven more brawls.”
Cinder glared up at the ceiling. “Also just enough time to disconnect your audio device.”
“Since we have a few minutes,” said Scarlet, “maybe we should talk about how to handle this girl. If she’s been stuck on a satellite for seven years, with no one to talk to but a Lunar thaumaturge, she might be … socially awkward. I think we should all make an effort to be extra welcoming and supportive and … try not to terrify her.”
A laugh came from the cockpit and Thorne appeared in the doorway, strapping a gun holster around his waist. “You’re asking the cyborg fugitive and the wild animal to be the welcoming committee? That’s adorable.”
Scarlet planted her hands on her hips. “I’m saying we should be aware of what she’s been through and try to be sensitive to that. This may not be an easy transition for her.”
Thorne shrugged. “The Rampion is going to be like a five-star hotel after living on that satellite. She’ll adjust.”
“I’ll be nice to her!” said Iko. “I can take her net-shopping and she can help me pick out my future designer wardrobe. Look, I found this custom escort shop that has the best accessories, and some discounted models. What would you think of me with orange hair?” The netscreen on the wall switched to an escort-droid sale listing. The image of a model was slowly rotating, showing off the android’s perfect proportions, peachy skin, and royalty-approved posture. She had purple irises and cropped tangerine hair and a tattoo of an old-fashioned carousel that rotated around her ankle.