Cress (Page 15)

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.

Cinder squeezed an eye shut. “Iko, what does this have to do with the satellite girl?”

“I was getting to that.” The screen scrolled through a menu, landing on hair accessories, and dozens of icons clustered together showing everything from dreadlocked wigs to cat-ear headbands to rhinestone-encrusted barrettes. “Just think how much potential she has with hair like that!”

“You see?” said Thorne, nudging Scarlet in the shoulder. “Iko and the imprisoned, socially awkward satellite girl, best friends forever. Now, what I’m worried about is how we’re going to be dividing the reward money when this is all over. Because this ship is starting to feel awfully crowded and I’m not sure I’m happy with all of you cutting into my profits.”

“What reward money?” asked Scarlet.

“The reward Cinder’s going to pay us out of the Lunar treasury once she’s queen.”

Cinder rolled her eyes. “I should have guessed.”

“And that’s just the beginning. By the end of this escapade, the whole world will see us as heroes. Imagine the fame and fortune, the sponsorship opportunities, the marketing requests, net-dramatization rights. I think we should discuss the profit division sooner rather than later, because I’m considering a 60-10-10-10-10 split right now.”

“Am I the fourth ten percent?” said Iko. “Or is that the satellite girl? Because if it’s the satellite girl, I’m going on strike.”

“Can we discuss this imaginary money later?” said Cinder.

“Like, maybe when there’s actual money to discuss?” suggested Scarlet. “Besides, don’t you still have to prepare the podship?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.” With a salute, Thorne grabbed a handgun off a storage crate and sank it into the holster.

Scarlet cocked her head. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go? It’s going to require some precise manuvering to attach to the docking clamp, and from what Cinder told me about your flying skills…”

“What do you mean? What did Cinder say about my flying skills?”

Scarlet and Cinder shared a look. “Naturally, she told me that you’re a fantastic pilot,” said Scarlet, grabbing her red hoodie off a crate. Though it had been badly torn in Paris, she’d stitched it up as well as she could. “Absolutely top-notch.”

“I think she was practicing her sarcasm,” said Iko.

Thorne glared, but Cinder only shrugged.

“I’m just saying,” continued Scarlet, threading her arms through the sleeves, “it may not be an easy attachment. You have to dock slowly, and don’t leave the pod until you’re sure the satellite’s system is compatible and you have a secure connection.”

“I can handle it,” said Thorne. Winking, he reached out and gave Scarlet’s nose a tweak, ignoring how Wolf bristled behind her. “But you sure are sweet to be so concerned about me.”