Winter (82 page)

After another long silence, Queen Camilla cleared her throat. “The UK agrees as well. We will begin the reexamination of the laws in earnest upon my return.”

Prime Minister Bromstad bashfully admitted that he would need to set up a parliamentary vote before any changes could be made into law, as did the other republics, but there was general agreement around the table. It was by no means a hearty agreement, Cinder could tell, and she tried to disguise how much this irked her. She knew that just because one cyborg had saved the world didn’t mean they were ready to give up generations of prejudices, but Cinder hoped it was a start.

“Second. I ask that all restrictions on Lunar emigration be removed. Lunars should be free to come and go between Luna and Earth as they please—I don’t want Luna to feel like a prison to its citizens anymore. Likewise, once we’re prepared for it, I will open Luna’s ports to Earthen travel and emigration. Like it used to be, when Luna first became a country and trade and travel were encouraged. I feel like it’s the only way our two societies will begin to start trusting each other.”

As she spoke, she noticed many glances being passed between the other leaders.

It was the Australian governor-general who dared to speak. “While I understand your motives, how can we trust that the Lunars who come into our countries won’t…” He hesitated.

“Manipulate you?” said Cinder. “Brainwash your people? Commit unspeakable crimes against humanity, knowing how easy it will be for them to get away with it?”

He flashed a wry smile. “Exactly.”

“I believe that Earthens and Lunars can coexist peacefully,” said Cinder. “We’ve seen it in Farafrah and other north African towns over the past decade, where close to fifteen percent of the population is made up of Lunar immigrants. They work together. They trust each other.”

“Fifteen percent?” said Africa’s Prime Minister Kamin. “I’ve never heard this statistic.”

“They don’t publicize it, but it didn’t seem to be a secret, even to the Earthen locals. They had formed a mutually beneficial relationship.”

“As lovely as that thought is,” said Kamin, “with all due respect, you are very young, Your Majesty. You may not be aware that there was a time when travel was encouraged between Earth and Luna, and in that time, we experienced episodes of mass brainwashing put upon our people, forced suicides, rapes … Not only is it difficult to prove when a Lunar has manipulated an Earthen, but half the time, we can’t even tell a crime was committed.” She stopped herself as her voice started to rise. “I of course mean no disrespect to you, Your Majesty.”

“No disrespect taken,” said Cinder. “I am, in fact, quite familiar with the Massacre at New Haven, 41
T.E.
, the Mindless Marches of 18
T.E.
, the highly publicized case of Roget v. Caprice in the second era, and, oh, about a thousand other notable examples of Lunars exerting their gift on the people of Earth.”

Kamin looked taken aback. In fact, the whole table seemed more than a little surprised.

Leaning forward, Cinder spoke very clearly. “I have a computer in my
brain
,” she said. “So while I’m not going to tell you that I am the smartest or, by any means, the most experienced person in this room, I would suggest that no one use my youth to believe that I am also
ignorant.
”

“Of course,” said Kamin, newly tense. “Forgive me. I meant no offense.”

“Your concerns are legitimate,” said Cinder. “If I could offer you a solution—a promise that no Earthen would ever be manipulated again, or would at least be given an opportunity to protect themselves against that manipulation—would you agree to my request?”

“It would be worth considering,” said President Vargas. “And I, for one, am dying to know what this solution might be.”

“Right.” Cinder flicked her hand toward her stepmother. “This is Linh Adri, a citizen of the Eastern Commonwealth.”

Adri started, whipping her gaze around the table of very important people.

“Adri’s husband, a man named Linh Garan, was an inventor who specialized in android systems and cybernetics. He’s deceased now, but when he was alive, he invented a … device. It attaches to a person’s nervous system and can protect them from being manipulated by the Lunar gift. Levana learned of this device recently and did her best to have all patents and blueprints concerning the device destroyed, even going so far as to have Adri, the rightful owner of the technology, imprisoned here on Luna.”

Adri had gone pale. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything about it. This device, if it ever existed, is long gone—”

“Well, it’s sort of long gone,” interrupted Cinder. “As far as I know, there were only two working prototypes. One was in an Earthen woman named Michelle Benoit, who was killed during the attacks in Paris. The other is inside me.” She turned to Dr. Nandez, whose interest seemed piqued for the first time since the meeting had started.

Leaning forward, the doctor cupped her chin in one hand. “On your axis vertebra?” she said. “I saw it on your holograph, but I didn’t know what it was.”

Cinder nodded. “I hope you’ll tell me the device can be safely removed, and the hardware reproduced. If we can copy it, there could come a time when everyone who wants to avoid bioelectrical manipulation would have the power to do so.”

A rustle of disbelief.

“Is that possible?” said President Vargas.

“Absolutely,” said Cinder. “It worked on me, and it worked on Michelle Benoit.”

“I hate to be pessimistic,” said Dr. Nandez, “but your installed device appeared to have severe damage. Though it’s possible we could use it to create a blueprint for the hardware, I have to assume that any programming has been damaged beyond repair. If Queen Levana really did have the data destroyed, I don’t know how easily it can be reproduced.”

“You’re right. Mine was destroyed.” Cinder risked a glance at Adri and Pearl, who were frowning as they tried to follow the conversation. “Luckily, Linh Garan created a backup for the device’s internal software. He was clever enough to hide it in an obscure place where no one would think to look for it. Do
you
know, Linh-jiĕ?”

Startled at the formal greeting, Adri shook her head.

“He hid it inside the personality chip of a lowly Serv9.2.”

Iko squeaked.

Redness crept into Adri’s cheeks. Dawning comprehension, and horror. “Oh—but I … but the android … I didn’t know she was—”

“Valuable?” Cinder smiled wryly. “I know. Adri had the android in question dismantled and sold off as spare parts.”

There was more than one gasp around the table, and a lot of furious glances passed toward Adri and Pearl.

“Everything,” Cinder added, “except the faulty personality chip that no one else wanted. No one except Linh Garan … and me.” She nodded at Iko. “The chip is inside my escort-droid friend here, and I have no doubt we’ll be able to extract the information stored there.”

“Huh,” said Iko, pressing her finger into her temple. “I remember when he uploaded those files. I thought they were for malware protection.”

“Of course,” said Cinder, “Linh Adri is the owner of the patent and the technology, so it’s fair she be compensated. I expect you can work out some sort of royalty from the manufacturing of the device.”

A round of agreement rumbled through the table—all but Adri. “Royalty?” Her gaze darted to Pearl, then back to Cinder. “How … how much of a royalty?”

Iko lowered her hand, grumbling, “Too much.”

Cinder bit back a smile. “That’s between you and the government entities you’re selling it to.” Leaning across the table, she fixed a glare on her stepmother. “I suggest you
don’t
get greedy.”

Scolded, Adri sank back in her chair. But there was a brightness in her eye, as someone across the table mentioned the potential market for such a device. Millions, possibly billions could be reproduced over the next decade …

Adri reached for her daughter’s hand. Pearl glanced at her mother, and she, too, seemed to finally understand.

Linh Garan’s device had the potential to make them very, very wealthy.

Cinder realized, with some surprise, that she didn’t feel as bitter about it as she’d thought she would. Let Adri have her riches and royalties, her daughter and her life. After this day, Cinder intended never to think of either of them again.

Her only regret was that Peony wasn’t here to see it. She would never play dress-up with Iko in the royal closets. Her eyes wouldn’t sparkle as Cinder put on her crown for the first time. She had never met Kai, who had become so much more to Cinder than her prince or her emperor or an impossible dream.

“That brings me to my final request,” Cinder said, determined to get through this meeting before any emotions, good or bad, overwhelmed her. “This one relates to only two of you. President Vargas and Governor-General Williams.” Cinder adjusted herself in her chair. “It involves a man named Carswell Thorne.”

Ninety-Five

The nurse kept apologizing as she escorted Cress from the med-clinic to the palace. Far from being fully healed, Cress had to be transported on a maglev chair, which was the oddest floating contraption she’d ever seen. Not quite a gurney, but not a wheelchair, either. For the moment in which Cress let her imagination carry her away, she’d been an exotic first-era princess being carried around on a lavish throne on the shoulders of very strong men.

Then the nurse had launched into her apologies again, destroying the daydream. The clinic was so overcrowded, she explained, the doctors spread so thin, and now that Cress was out of critical status …

Cress didn’t mind the change. She was glad to be out of the sterile clinic.

Though Cress had only been brought out of suspended animation four hours ago, she’d already seen Iko, Scarlet, Wolf, and even a weary Jacin, who told her of their victory and how Cinder had signed the Treaty of Bremen and how the shells had been awakened and how researchers were figuring out the best way to get them adjusted to life on Luna while also meeting Earth’s antidote needs. It left Cress’s head spinning.

At the top of her thoughts, however—always, always—was Thorne.

He hadn’t been there.

No one had even mentioned his name, and Cress had felt like they were all holding their breath. Wanting to say something, but waiting, uncertain.

She’d shot off two of his fingers. It may have been a minor injury compared with what she and Cinder had suffered, but still—
she
had done it. Of her own will and volition.

The nurse guided her into a familiar guest wing. This was where she had run into Kai.

“Here we are,” said the nurse, opening a door. “If you need anything at all—”

“I’m fine.” Cress used the controls on the chair’s arm to guide it into the room. A canopied bed was covered in shining silks, the stone floors were polished to a glossy finish. The window looked out on some of the palace’s flowering gardens, full of gazebos and statues. “Thank you.”

“We’ve taken care to make sure you’re close to your friends,” said the woman. “Mr. Kesley and Miss Benoit are two doors down on the left, and Emperor Kaito is around the corner. Mr. Thorne is staying across the hall.”

Cress spun her chair around. Her door was still open and she could see Thorne’s closed door from where she sat. “He is?”

“Would you like me to see if he’s in?”

Cress flushed. “Oh. No, that’s all right. Thank you.”

“Then I should be getting back to the clinic. Would you like to be helped into bed before I go?”

“No, I think I’m going to sit and enjoy the view for a while. Thank you.”

The nurse left, shutting the door behind her.

Cress took in a deep breath. The fine guest quarters smelled of lemon cleaner and a bouquet of white lilacs that sat on a desk. They were already wilting, though, and Cress wondered how long they’d been there. Perhaps this room had been set up for someone else, perhaps one of the Earthen diplomats who had already gone home.

Mr. Thorne is staying across the hall.

She stared at the door, willing him to appear.

Her stomach was throbbing where Thorne had stabbed her, when he’d been under Levana’s control. She pressed her fingers against the bandages over her stitches, trying to ease the ache. She wondered if she should have asked the nurse to leave her some pain medicine.

She took in a deep breath, feeling the sting in her ribs as her lungs pressed against them. She would be brave. She would be heroic. She would make her own destiny.

She urged her floating chair to the door and yanked it open.

Thorne stood in the hallway.

He jumped, clasping his hands behind his back, a rigidly formal stance. He was clean-shaven with his hair neatly combed, and he was wearing brand-new clothes: a blue collared shirt rolled to the elbows and khaki pants tucked into brown boots.

Cress squeezed herself against the back of the chair, feeling inadequate. Though she’d showered away the suspension tank’s goop, she still wore the paper-thin gown from the clinic and hadn’t even had a chance to comb her hair.

“Captain,” she breathed.

“Sorry,” he said, clicking his heels. “Were you leaving?”

“No. I … I thought I’d come see you.”

Thorne looked caught off guard, but then an edge of relief turned up one side of his mouth. He leaned down and placed his hands on her armrests. His right hand was cocooned in a cast. “You’re supposed to be
resting
,” he said, pushing her backward and shutting the door with his foot. He took her back to the window, then glanced around. “What can I get you? A portscreen? A masseuse? Whiskey on the rocks?”

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Even knowing he was alive, she hadn’t completely believed it until then. “You look…” She couldn’t finish. Her eyes started to water.

A grin in expectation of a compliment quickly turned to panic. “Oh, hey, what are you doing that for?” He crouched in front of her. “I don’t think crying will feel very good in your condition.”

She bit her lip, hard. He was right. Already her warbling breaths were making her abdomen throb. She forced the tears to subside.