Gasping, Cress wrapped her hands around Thorne’s and aimed. He fired again, this time hitting the guard in the chest. He stumbled backward and fell.
Cress swiveled, pulling Thorne’s hand toward the next guard. Another shot to the chest. A third shot hit the next guard’s shoulder. She aimed for the fourth—
Click. Click.
Thorne cursed. “Well, that was fun while it lasted.”
The guard laughed. He was tall and made of muscle, with orange-red hair that swept nearly straight up, and he was the only guard that Cress recognized. She’d seen him on the surveillance footage before, usually along with the rest of the queen’s entourage, which meant he was probably the highest-ranking guard among them.
“If it’s all right with you,” he said, “I’ll be killing you now.”
“Aren’t you a gentleman?” Thorne said, pulling Cress behind him and raising his fists.
A scream split through the wind.
Not just a scream, but a scream made up of pain and delirium, torture and agony.
Cress and Thorne both ducked and covered their ears, and at first Cress was terrified that it was Cinder. But when she looked, Mistress Sybil had fallen on the ground and was twitching and digging her nails into her scalp. The scream went on and on as she twisted and flailed, craning her head so fast it smacked against the asphalt, then curling up on herself like a fetus, searching for relief that wasn’t coming.
Cinder still appeared unconscious, with Wolf hovering over her. But then he whipped his head like a bedraggled dog and sprang away from Cinder with wild, remorseful eyes.
Cinder stayed corpse-like on the ground.
“Stop!” the red-haired guard yelled. He grabbed Cress, yanking her away from Thorne and wrapping one hand around her throat. She screamed and clawed at his wrists, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I said stop, or I’ll crush her throat!” Though he was yelling, he could hardly be heard over Sybil, and either Cinder didn’t hear him or she didn’t care … or she couldn’t stop. Cress tried to kick behind her, but her legs were too short and already darkness was encroaching on her vision.…
Crack.
The guard’s fist loosened and he toppled over, unconscious. Cress stumbled away from him, rubbing her neck. Spinning around, she saw Thorne holding his cane like a club.
“I found my cane,” he said, tossing it once with a twirl and trying to catch the other end, but missing. The cane clattered to the floor. Thorne flinched. “Are you all right?”
She gulped, ignoring how it burned in her throat. “Y-yes.”
“Good.” Thorne picked up the cane again. “Now what in the name of spades is all the screaming about?”
“I don’t know. Cinder’s doing something to Mistress Sybil … something with her gift.”
“Well, it’s annoying and we’re running out of time. Come on.”
One of the guards they’d shot reached out for Cress’s ankle as she passed, but she kicked at him as they ran for Cinder. Wolf was shaking her, but she wasn’t responding. Behind them, Sybil’s screams tapered into uncontrollable blubbering as she convulsed on the ground.
“Maybe Cinder has to be rebooted,” said Thorne, after Cress had described the situation as well as she could. “That happened once before. Here.” He reached beneath Cinder’s head and Cress heard a click.
Cinder’s eyes popped open and her hand snapped around Thorne’s wrist. Crying out, he fell over onto the ground.
Sybil’s sobs dwindled to whimpering.
“Don’t. Open. My control panel,” she said. Releasing Thorne, she shut the plate in her head.
“Then stop going comatose on me!” He stood up. “Can we go now, before the entire Commonwealth military shows up?”
Cinder sat up, blinking. “Iko…”
“Right. Wolf, could you get the android, please? And the emperor, I trust he’s still around here somewhere?”
The emperor. In the chaos, Cress had forgotten all about him.
“Sirens.”
Cress looked at Wolf. His head was cocked to one side.
“Heading this direction.”
“Which means the military won’t be far behind,” said Cinder. “I take it there’s no sign of Jacin?”
No one responded. There had been no sign of their getaway pilot since the fight had started. Cress licked her lips. Had he betrayed them? Had he told Sybil about their plan?
“Figures,” said Cinder. “Thorne, you’re with me in the cockpit. Jacin and I practiced takeoffs … once. You can help jog my memory.”
Together, they hurried to carry Iko’s broken body and Kai, still unconscious, into the cargo bay.
Then they heard laughter. High, strained laughter that dropped ice down Cress’s spine.
Sybil was struggling to stand. She made it to her feet and took a couple wobbling steps, before falling back down to one knee. She laughed again and bunched her fists into her long, unruly hair.
Cress was suddenly pushed aside as Wolf trudged down the ramp and grasped Sybil by the front of her white coat, yanking her toward him. Her eyes rolled back into her head. “Where is she?” he yelled. “Is she still alive?”
Even from the top of the ramp, Cress could see the hatred burning in his eyes, overshadowed only by his need to know. To be given any sliver of hope that Scarlet was still out there. That he still had a chance to save her.
But Sybil’s head only collapsed to one side. “What—what pretty birds!” she said, before she was overcome with a fit of incoherent giggles.
Wolf snarled, baring his teeth. For a moment, his entire body was shaking and Cress thought he was going to tear her throat out. But then he dropped Sybil to the ground. She fell hard, whimpered from the impact, and rolled onto her back. Then she started to laugh again, staring up at the sky. The sun was just setting, but the full moon had already risen high over the city’s skyline.
Turning away from her, Wolf marched up the ramp. He did not meet Cress’s gaze as he passed her.
Cress stared, bewildered, as Sybil raised both arms up toward the sky. Cackling. Cackling.
The ramp started to rise, slowly blocking the sight of Sybil and the bleeding guards who were scattered around the rooftop. The roar of the engines soon drowned out both the mad laughter and the sirens blaring beyond the palace walls.
Fifty-Six
To anyone who would have seen her, Levana was a vision of serenity in her ethereal red wedding gown and the sheer gold veil that fell to her wrists. She sat on the settee in her guest quarters, posture perfect, her hands folded in her lap.
Except they were not folded at all, but rather balled into angry fists.
Each one held a wedding band. One that she had worn for far too many years, that she had once believed would bring her love and happiness, but had only ever brought her pain.
The other was supposed to bring her, not the love of a blind, selfish husband, but the love of an entire planet. She should have been wearing it now.
Everything had been going so well. She had been moments away from walking down that aisle. Moments away.
She should have been married. She should have been reciting the vows that would make her empress.
When she found out who was responsible for this delay, she would torment their fragile mind until they were a drooling, pathetic idiot, terrified of the sight of their own hands.
A knock cut through the fantasy. Levana shifted her eyes toward the door.
“Enter.”
One of her guards entered first, escorting Konn Torin, the young emperor’s annoying, perpetually present adviser. She glared at him through her gold veil, though she knew he couldn’t see it.
“Your Illustrious Majesty,” he said, bowing deeply. The addition of a new adjective combined with the bow slightly lower than usual made the hair prickle on the back of her neck. “I must apologize most severely for the delay, and for the news I have to impart to you. We have been forced, I’m afraid, to postpone the marriage ceremony.”