Cress (44 page)

Wolf also had his fierce eyes focused on the approaching palace, but she could sense no amount of awe from him, only impatience. His knee wouldn’t stop bouncing and his fingers kept flexing and tightening. Watching him was making her nervous. He’d been so subdued back at the Rampion, so impossibly motionless. She wondered if this burst of energy was the first sign that the bomb inside him had started to tick.

Or maybe he was just anxious, like she was. Maybe he was tracing over their plan in his mind. Or maybe he was thinking about that girl.
Scarlet.

Cress was sad that she hadn’t met her. It was as if the crew of the Rampion were missing a vital piece, and Cress didn’t understand how she fit. She tried to think of the things she knew about Scarlet Benoit. She’d researched her a little when Cinder and Thorne had landed the ship on her grandmother’s farm, but not very much. At the time, she’d had no idea that Scarlet had joined them.

And Cress had only spoken with her once, when the whole crew had contacted her and asked for her help. She’d seemed nice enough, but Cress had been so focused on Thorne she could hardly remember anything other than curly red hair.

Fidgeting with the straps of her dress, she glanced at Wolf again, catching him in an attempt to loosen his bow tie.

“Can I ask you a question?”

His eyes swept over to her. “It’s not about hacking security systems, is it?”

She blinked. “Of course not.”

“Then fine.”

She smoothed her skirt around her knees. “This Scarlet … you’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

He froze, becoming stone still. As the hover climbed the hill to the palace, his shoulders sank, and he returned his gaze to the window. “She’s my alpha,” he murmured, with a haunting sadness in his voice.

Alpha.

Cress leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “Like the star?”

“What star?”

She stiffened, instantly embarrassed, and scooted back from him again. “Oh. Um. In a constellation, the brightest star is called the alpha. I thought maybe you meant that she’s … like … your brightest star.” Looking away, she knotted her hands in her lap, aware that she was blushing furiously now and this beast of a man was about to realize what an over-romantic sap she was.

But instead of sneering or laughing, Wolf sighed. “Yes,” he said, his gaze climbing up to the full moon that had emerged over the city. “Exactly like that.”

With a quick twist to her heart, Cress’s fear of him began to subside. She’d been right back at the boutique. He
was
like the hero of a romance story, and he was trying to rescue his beloved. His alpha.

Cress had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her imagination from skittering away with her. This wasn’t some silly story. Scarlet Benoit was a prisoner on Luna. It was very likely that she was already dead.

It was a thought that settled heavy in Cress’s gut as the hover pulled in front of the palace gates.

A greeter opened the door, and thousands of voices crowded in around them. With a shudder, Cress gave the greeter her hand as she’d seen girls do on the net dramas. Her heel hit the tiled drive and she was suddenly surrounded. Crowds of journalists and onlookers—both peaceful and angry—flocked around the courtyard, snapping photos, calling out questions, holding up signs that urged the emperor not to go through with this.

Cress ducked her head, wanting to crawl back into the hover and hide from the piercing lights and throbbing chatter. The world began to spin.

Oh, spades. She was going to faint.

“Miss? Miss, are you well?”

Her throat went dry. Blood rushed through her ears and she was drowning. Suffocating.

Then a firm grip was on her elbow, drawing her away from the courtier. She stumbled, but Wolf put his iron-solid arm around her waist and squeezed her against him, forcing her to match his strides. Beside him, she felt as small and frail as a bird, but there was also a sense of protection. She focused on that, and within moments, a comforting dream slipped around her.

She was a famous net-drama actress making a big debut, and Wolf was her bodyguard. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She simply had to hold her head high and be brave and be graceful and be confident. Her fine ball gown became a costume. The media became her adoring fans. Her spine straightened, millimeter by trembling millimeter, as the tingling darkness began to recede from her vision.

“All right?” Wolf murmured.

“I am a famous actress,” she whispered back.

She dared not look up at him, afraid it would ruin the spell her imagination had cast.

After a moment, his grip loosened.

The noise of the crowd behind them faded away, replaced with the calm serenity of bubbling streams and the whisper of bamboo in the palace gardens. Cress stared straight ahead at the looming entrance, flanked by crimson pergolas. Two more courtiers waited at the top of the steps.

Wolf produced the two embossed invitations. Cress was perfectly still as the scanner light flickered over the tiny chip that was embedded in the paper. She and Wolf wouldn’t have fit the roles of Linh Adri and her daughter, but it had been child’s play to change the ID profiles coded on each chip. According to the portscreen, Wolf was now Mr. Samhain Bristol, parliament representative from Toronto, East Canada Province, UK, and she was his young wife. The actual Mr. Bristol was, to Cress’s knowledge, still safe at home and unaware that he had a body double negating the political point he was trying to make by
not
attending the royal wedding. Cress hoped it would stay that way.

She released a breath as the courtier returned the invitations to Wolf without a hint of hesitation. “We are so pleased you could join us after all, Bristol-dàren,” he said. “Please proceed to the ballroom, where you will be escorted to your seats.” By the time he finished, he was already reaching for the invitations of the couple behind them.

Wolf guided her forward, and if he was sharing any of her anxiety, he didn’t show it.

The main corridor was lined with palace guards in fine red coats and tasseled epaulets. Cress recognized a painted screen on one wall—mountains standing over misty clouds and a crane-filled lake. Her gaze instinctively flitted up to one of the ornate chandeliers that lined the corridor, and though it was too small for her to see, she knew that one of the queen’s cameras was there, watching them even now.

Though she doubted the queen or Sybil or anyone who could possibly have recognized Cress was bothering to watch the surveillance feeds at that moment, she nevertheless turned her head away and started laughing as if Wolf had made a joke.

He frowned at her.

“These chandeliers are
extraordinary,
aren’t they?” she said, putting as much lightness into her tone as she could.

Wolf’s expression remained unfazed, and after a blank moment, he shook his head and resumed his steady pace toward the ballroom.

They found themselves on a landing that swooped down a grand staircase and opened up into an enormous, beautiful room. The mere size of it reminded her of the desert’s expansiveness and she was overwhelmed by the same awe and dizziness she’d had before. She was glad they weren’t the only ones lingering at the top of the stairs and watching as the crowd drifted in and filled up rows of plush seats beneath them. There was at least an hour before the ceremony would officially begin, and many of the guests were using the time to mingle and take in the beauty of it all.

Many pillars throughout the room were carved with gold-tinted dragons, and the walls were filled with so many bouquets of flowers, some as tall as Cress, that it was like the gardens had begun to grow wild inside. Half a dozen birdcages stood beside the floor-to-ceiling windows, displaying doves and mockingbirds and sparrows, which sang a chaotic melody that rivaled the beauty of the orchestra.

Cress turned to face Wolf so that, should anyone look at them, it would seem as though they were in deep conversation. He bent his head toward her to complete the masquerade, though his focus was on the nearest guard.

“You don’t suppose we should … mingle, do you?”

He screwed up his nose. “I think we’d better not.” Glancing around, he held his elbow toward her. “But perhaps we could go sympathize with some caged birds.”

Forty-Eight

After passing through the dank cellar, Cinder was glad to discover that the escape tunnel was, well, fit for an emperor. The floor was tiled and the walls were smooth concrete with dim lightbulbs set every twenty steps. They could walk without fear of Thorne tripping on jagged rocks.

Nevertheless, they were making painfully slow progress, and more than once Cinder considered leaving them behind. Thorne did a decent job of keeping up, but Dr. Erland’s age combined with his short legs made his pace feel like an agonizing crawl. If she didn’t think it would offend him, she would have offered him a piggyback ride.

She kept reminding herself that they had planned for this. They were right on schedule.

It would all be fine.

She told herself again and again.

Eventually she began to notice signs that they were approaching the palace. Stockrooms filled with nonperishable goods and jugs of water and rice wine. Power generators that sat silent and unused. Large rooms, empty but for enormous round tables and uncomfortable-looking chairs, black netscreens and switch panels and processors—not state of the art, but new enough that it was clear these escape tunnels would be ready for use if they were ever needed. Should the royal family ever need to go into hiding, they would be able to stay down here for a long time.

And not just the royal family, Cinder realized as they trudged on, passing more stockrooms and hallways that branched in every direction. This was a labyrinth. It seemed that there was enough space for the entire government to come live down here, or at least everyone who worked in the palace.

“We’re almost there,” she said, tracking their position through satellite navigation and the map on her retina display.

“Wait, where are we going again? It’s been so long since we left the ship, I can’t remember.”

“Very funny, Thorne.” She glanced back. Thorne was walking with one palm on the wall, and Dr. Erland was using his cane. She wondered how long it had been since Thorne had given it to him, and how long it had been since the doctor’s breathless wheezing had begun in earnest. She’d hardly noticed it, too preoccupied with the plan that filled up her head.

Now, seeing beads of sweat on the doctor’s brow, dripping down from the brim of his hat, she paused. “Are you all right?”

“Dreamy,” he breathed, his head lowered. “Just holding on … to a comet’s tail. Stardust and sand dunes and … why is it so … blasted hot in here?”

Cinder rubbed the back of her neck. “Right. Um. We made good time,” she lied. “Maybe we should rest for a minute?”

The doctor shook his head. “No—my Crescent Moon is up there. We stick to the plan.”

Thorne inched toward them, looking equally perplexed. “Isn’t it a full moon tonight?”

“Doctor, you’re not having hallucinations, are you?”

Dr. Erland narrowed his blue eyes at her. “
Go.
I’m right behind. I’m … I’m better already.”

Part of her wanted to argue, but she couldn’t deny that there wasn’t a whole lot of time to waste even if he wanted to. “Fine. Thorne?”

He shrugged and swung his hand toward her. “Lead the way.”

Cinder double-checked the map and moved forward, waiting for one of the corridor offshoots to line up with the instructions Cress had given her. When she spotted a stairwell curling up out of view, she slowed down, and checked their location with the palace blueprint. “I think this is it. Thorne, watch your step. Doctor?”

“Hearty good, thank you,” he said, gripping his side.

Bracing herself, Cinder started to climb. The stairs wrapped upward, the lights from below fading into shadows and, eventually, so much darkness that she turned on her flashlight again. The wall was smooth and undecorated but for a metal handrail. Cinder estimated that she’d trekked up three stories’ worth of steps before she came to a door. It was big enough for four people to walk through side by side, made of thick, reinforced steel. As expected, there were no hinges and no handle on this side—a fail-safe in case anyone discovered the entrance into the safety tunnel and tried to sneak into the palace.

This door was only meant to be opened from the inside.

Gripping the handrail, Cinder raised her other fist and tapped out a melody.

Then she waited, wondering if she’d been loud enough, wondering if they were too soon, wondering if they were too late and the plan had already fallen apart.

But then she heard a noise. A thunking deadbolt, a grinding lock mechanism, the squeak of unused hinges.

Iko stood before her, beaming and holding a pile of neatly folded clothes. “Welcome to New Beijing Palace.”

*   *   *

Though he didn’t want to admit it out loud, Thorne was sad to be splitting up from Cinder and going forth with only the grumpy, wheezing doctor to act as his guide. So far, he hadn’t sensed a whole lot of warmth coming off the old man, who didn’t seem to think that fixing Thorne’s blindness was a big priority, not to mention the crazy babble he’d been spouting down in the tunnels. Nevertheless, here they were. In the palace. Heading toward the labs where they would find the equipment necessary to do all that weird pseudo-science optical-repair stuff the doctor had talked about.

Alone.

Just the two of them.

“This way,” said the doctor, and Thorne adjusted his direction, keeping one hand on the wall. He missed the cane, but he could hear it clacking up ahead of him, and the doctor seemed to need it more.

Thorne really, really hoped the doctor wasn’t about to keel over. That would ruin oh so many things about this day.

“See anybody?” Thorne asked.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Thorne scowled, but kept his mouth shut. It was as they’d hoped. No one would expect a palace break-in from the top-secret escape tunnels, so while all the guard power was being kept at the palace gates and around the ballroom, he and the doctor should have the lab wing all to themselves.