Winter (27 page)

The princess did as she was told. The act was clumsy, which was at odds with every movement Scarlet had ever seen her make. As Winter collapsed into the wolf’s enclosure, the reality of the situation crashed down around Scarlet.

That guard had given them a chance to escape. They were making a run for it.

Adrenaline rushed through her veins. Scarlet checked the knife one more time, then grasped the rail and hauled herself over.

She landed with a grunt and sprang back up, running for the door. It swung open, and to her relief, no alarms sounded. She glanced back to see the princess stooped over Ryu’s body, but before Scarlet could yell for her, the princess lifted her chin, swiped her bloodied palms on her skirt, and followed.

Thirty

The feeding halls were pitch-black. Scarlet paused to listen for footsteps or voices, but there was nothing but the muffled chatter of birds they’d left behind. The smell reminded her of the farm, a heady combination of feed and hay and manure. She oriented herself. Going right would lead her farther into the menagerie, but left might land them back in the palace—hopefully in some sort of servants’ quarters. With one hand on the wall, she grabbed Winter’s wrist and took off. Her fingers skimmed over closed doors and she used what she knew of the menagerie to count them.
This must be the stag. This could be the snow leopard. Is this is the arctic fox?

They turned a corner and a blinking light caught her eye—hazy and distant. She headed toward it and found a control panel embedded in the wall, where one could control the menagerie’s lights and temperature and automatic feeders.

Beside the panel, barely seen in its faint light, was a door.

She pressed the unlock mechanism, hoping beyond hope that this door didn’t lead to the lion. Nothing happened.

Cursing, Scarlet pressed the unlock mechanism again. Nothing.

Then the control panel pinged, startling her, and a message scrolled across the top.

BE CAREFUL, SCARLET.

Her jaw fell. “What—?”

Before she could question it, she heard the door unlock. Trembling, she reached for the handle. The door slid open.

She flinched at the onslaught of light and pulled Winter against the wall, but a glance told her this well-lit hallway was equally desolate. Narrow and plain. If Scarlet had to guess what a servants’ hall looked like, this would be it.

She listened and heard nothing.

She looked up and her heart jumped.

A camera was rotating on the ceiling, scanning the hallway, back and forth. But no sooner had Scarlet spotted it than it froze. Its power light dimmed and went out. Startled, Scarlet leaned farther into the hallway and saw a second camera some fifty paces away just as it, too, shut off.

What had Jacin said? Something about handling the security?

But …
how
?

Fumbling for Winter’s elbow, Scarlet dragged her into the hallway. “Do you know where we are?”

“Near the guest wing.”

Well, that was something. At least Scarlet didn’t have to worry about them
starting out
hopelessly lost.

“We’re trying to get to Artemisia Port E. You know where that is, right?”

“
E…,
” murmured Winter. “
E
for
execution. Earth. Evret. Emperor
.” She pondered a moment longer. “
E
for
escape
.”

Scarlet groaned. “
E
for
unhelpful.
”

“No, that does not work.”

Scarlet spun on her and the princess came to a hasty stop. The back of her skirt was dark with blood, and smears of it covered her arms, her legs, even her face. In fact …

Looking down, Scarlet saw that she had a fair amount of it on herself, as well. This would not help to make them inconspicuous.

“The docks, Winter,” she said, glowering at the princess. “Do you know where they are or not?”

The princess scrunched up her face and pressed her bloodied palms against her cheeks and for a moment Scarlet thought she was going to cry.

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Her breaths shortened, her shoulders beginning to quake.

“
Princess
,” warned Scarlet.

“I think so. The docks … yes, the docks. With the mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms?”

“And the shadows that dance. Port E.
E
for
escape
.”

“Yeah,
E
for
escape
.” Scarlet could feel her hope slipping through her fingers. There was no way this was going to work. “How do we get there?”

“We take the rail. To the edge of the city.”

“The rail. All right. How do we get there?”

“Down, down, down we go.”

Scarlet could feel her patience unraveling. “And how do we go down?”

Winter shook her head, apology swimming in her amber eyes. Scarlet would have wanted to hug her if she hadn’t simultaneously wanted to strangle her.

“Fine. I’ll figure it out. Come on.” She took off down the hallway, hoping they would stumble across a flight of stairs or an elevator. Servants had to get around quickly, didn’t they? Surely they would find—

She rounded a corner and screeched, nearly colliding with a girl, a maid who couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old. Winter crashed into Scarlet and she grasped the princess’s arm, adrenaline thundering in her ears. The maid stared at Scarlet for a heartbeat, then at the princess, covered in blood, then dropped into a nervous curtsy, clutching the linens in her arms.

“Y-your Highness,” she stammered.

Clenching her teeth, Scarlet grabbed the knife out of the scabbard and lunged for the girl, pinning her against the wall with the blade against her throat.

The girl squeaked. The linens tumbled around their feet.

“We need to get to the rail that will take us to the docks. Quickest way there. Now.”

The girl started to shake, her eyes round.

“Do not be afraid,” said Winter, her voice singsong and delicate. “She will not hurt you.”

“Like hell I won’t. How do we get to the docks?”

The girl raised a finger. “D-down this hallway, to the right. The stairs go down to the sh-shuttle platform.”

Pulling away, Scarlet grabbed a white tablecloth from the fallen stack and ushered Winter down the hall without looking back.

The corridor ended in a T. Scarlet turned right and found an alcove that dropped into a bright stairwell. Once the door had shut behind them, Scarlet shook out the tablecloth and draped it around Winter, doing her best to knot it into something that resembled a cloak, hiding the blood and the princess’s recognizable beauty. Deeming her work passable, she grabbed Winter’s hand and headed down the steps. As they reached the second landing, the walls changed to rough gray-brown stone. They were underground, in the sublevels of the palace.

Three floors down they emerged onto a platform lit by glowing sconces. Before them were silent magnetic rails. Scarlet approached the ledge, peering each way down the tunnel.

She spotted a second doorway, arched and trimmed with phosphorescent tiles. The entry into the palace corridors, as opposed to the dull servants’ entrance.

Something clicked. The magnets started to hum. Heart launching into her throat, Scarlet held out her arm and backed Winter against the wall. A bullet-shaped shuttle emerged from the tunnel and glided to a stop on the tracks. Scarlet held still, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t see them, wouldn’t even glance their way.

The shuttle door lifted with a hiss of hydraulics and a giggling noblewoman stepped out, wearing a flamboyant emerald-green gown that glittered with jeweled peacock feathers. A man followed in a tunic stitched with runes similar to those worn by the thaumaturges. He reached over and squeezed the woman’s backside. She squealed and swished him away.

Scarlet didn’t breathe until they’d stumbled to the door and their laughter faded in the stairwell.

“That was not her husband,” Winter whispered.

“I really don’t care.” Scarlet lunged toward the shuttle. “Open!”

The shuttle didn’t move. The door didn’t open.

“Open, you stupid piece of junk!” Digging her fingers into the crack of the door, Scarlet tried to pry it open. Her injured finger throbbed for the first time in days. “Come on. What’s wrong with this thing? How do we—”

The door opened, nearly knocking Scarlet off balance. A robotic voice said, “Transport to Artemisia Port E.”

Goose bumps rushed along her skin, but she urged Winter inside, silently thanking whatever invisible ally was helping them. Climbing in after Winter, Scarlet collapsed onto a bench. The door breezed shut, sealing them inside. As the shuttle lifted and began to glide down the tracks, Winter added, “For escape.”

Scarlet swiped her damp forehead with a dirty sleeve. When she felt her panic settle down enough to speak, she asked, “What happened back there? In the menagerie?”

The strength that had entered Winter’s eyes just as quickly extinguished. “The queen sent him to kill me,” she said, “but he killed Ryu instead.”

Scarlet unzipped her hoodie, trying to cool her burning skin. “Why does the queen want to kill you?”

“She believes I am a threat to her crown.”

Scarlet snorted, an exhausted sound that didn’t carry half as much derision as it should have. “Really? Has she ever heard you talk?”

Winter turned questioning eyes on her.

“Because you’re
crazy
,” explained Scarlet. “Not exactly queen material. No offense.”

“I cannot be queen because I am not of royal descent. Her Majesty is only my stepmother. I have none of her blood.”

“Right, because that’s what’s important in a ruler.”

Though there were two monarchies in the Earthen Union—the United Kingdom and the Eastern Commonwealth—Scarlet had grown up in Europe, a democracy made up of checks and balances, voter ballots, and province representatives. She generally figured, to each his own, and clearly the countries of the Union were doing something right to have gotten through 126 years of world peace.

But that wasn’t the case with Luna. Something was broken with their system.

The shuttle began to slow. Scarlet glanced toward the window as the rocky black cave opened up to an enormous spaceship port bustling with activity. The tiled floor glowed, casting the shadows of countless ships against the dark walls. But this dock was crowded and huge, with several more sets of maglev tracks bringing in more shuttles every second. Cargo was being unloaded on another set of tracks, food and goods coming in from the outer sectors, by men who yelled at one another in abbreviated orders that sounded like another language.

“Bay 22,” Scarlet reminded herself as their shuttle door opened. “Try to fit in.”

Winter glanced at her, a moment of perfect clarity and even humor in the look.

She was right. They were filthy. They were bloody. Winter was a well-loved princess who was prettier than a bouquet of roses and crazier than a headless chicken.

Fitting in would be a miracle.

“You could use your glamour,” Scarlet suggested.

The connection severed and Winter turned away. “No. I couldn’t.” She stepped out onto the platform.

Scarlet followed, relieved that she didn’t see anyone wearing rich finery and donning ridiculous headpieces. This was a place for trade and cargo, not aristocrats, but that didn’t mean they were safe. Already she could sense the workers pausing, looking again, staring.

“You mean you won’t,” said Scarlet.

“I mean I won’t,” agreed the princess.

“Then at least keep your head down.” Scarlet adjusted the tablecloth material over Winter’s hair as they moved away from the rails.

The port was enormous, stretching far into the distance. Hundreds of dark alcoves lined either side, numbers carved above them. Scarlet scanned the cargo as they passed, her eye catching on words of war.

SMALL ARMS AMMUNITION

DELIVER: LUNAR REGIMENT 51, PACK 437

THAUM LAIGHT, ALPHA GANUS

STATIONED: ROME, ITALY, EF, EARTH

Ammunition. These were weapons destined for Earth to aid in Luna’s war efforts.

Don’t react
, she told herself, fists clenching. Every fiber in her body yearned to find a weapon and set fire to every crate in this port.

Don’t react. Do not react.

Steadying her breath, she forged ahead, Winter trailing beside her. She caught E7 stenciled on a wall to her left, E8 on her right. Almost there.

It took every ounce of willpower not to sprint to Bay 22.

“Can I help you?”

They paused. A worker stepped toward them wearing filthy coveralls. “What are you…” He caught himself, his gaze landing on Winter, or what he could see of her down-turned face. “I … forgive me. Your Highness?”

Winter looked up. Color flooded into the man’s cheeks.

“It is you,” he breathed. “I didn’t … can I help you, Your Highness?”

Scarlet bristled. No one else had noticed them yet. She grabbed the man’s arm before he bowed. “Her Highness does not wish to be gawked at. If you want to help, you can escort us to Bay 22.”

Anxiety flashed across the man’s face and he nodded, as if he were afraid of her. Maybe he thought she was a thaumaturge in training.

“Y-yes, of course. Right this way.”

Scarlet released him and shot Winter a cool glare, gesturing for her to hide her face again. The man’s stride was stiff as he led them past hovering cargo platforms and crates on complicated tracks. Scratching his neck with his free hand, he glanced twice over his shoulder.

“Is something wrong?” said Scarlet, steel in her tone.

“N-no. I’m sorry.”

“Then stop looking at her.”

He opened his mouth and Scarlet thought he wanted to mention the blood or the grime or Winter’s very existence, but then he shut it again and kept his head down.

Some of the alcoves they passed had heavy metal doors over them, but most were open, showing docked ships within.

“See?” Winter whispered. “Mushrooms, and the shadows that dance.”