Cress

by Marissa Meyer

  “You lost me.”

  “Scarlet Benoit was not born in a hospital. Neither was her father, Luc Raoul Benoit. Without official records, we must treat any information about their births as circumspect. It is possible that everything we know about Scarlet Benoit is false information.”

  Kai pressed his hands onto the desk. “Are you saying there’s a chance this girl, this Scarlet Benoit … is really Princess Selene?”

  “It is a possibility that cannot be proved or disproved at this time, but I have found no evidence to warrant a dismissal of this hypothesis.”

  Kai filled his lungs, feeling that he hadn’t taken a full breath in weeks. “And Cinder knows it. Cinder figured it out … and now … she has her. Cinder’s found the princess.”

  “Your Majesty,” said Torin, “you are jumping to some large conclusions.”

  “But it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  Torin scowled. “I will withhold my opinion on the matter until we have some information that is based on more than speculation.”

  “Android speculation,” Kai said, pointing at Nainsi. “It’s better than regular speculation.”

  He pushed himself out of his chair and began to pace in front of the grand picture window. Princess Selene was alive. He just knew it.

  And Cinder had found her.

  He almost laughed.

  “I’m surprised to see you taking this all with such good humor, Your Majesty,” said Torin. “I would think you would be horrified with this turn of events.”

  “Why? She’s alive!”

  “If this girl is the missing princess, then she is currently being held captive by a dangerous felon, Your Majesty.”

  “Wha—Cinder’s not dangerous!”

  Torin seemed unexpectedly furious as he, too, launched himself to his feet. “Have you forgotten that she’s Lunar? She is a Lunar who had contacts working within this very palace. She coerced you—the most protected person in the country—into giving her a personal invitation to our annual ball, then infiltrated it with, I can only assume, the intention of provoking Queen Levana. She escaped from a high-security prison and has managed to evade capture by our entire military, which ultimately led to an attack that killed thousands of Earthens. How can you possibly say she isn’t dangerous?”

  Kai straightened his spine. “Levana attacked us—not Cinder.”

  Groaning, Torin rubbed his fingers over his temples. It had been a long time since Kai had seen that expression on his adviser. The expression that indicated he thought Kai was a moron.

  Indignation flared inside him. “And for the record, she declined my invitation to the ball. She only came to warn me. And Dr. Erland…” He hesitated. He still didn’t know what to think about her relationship with Dr. Erland. “Levana wants her killed. I don’t see that we’ve given her much choice other than to run.”

  “Your Majesty, I worry that your … your feelings for this girl are causing a bias that could jeopardize your ability to make logical decisions where she’s concerned.”

  Kai’s face grew warm. Was he so transparent?

  “I’m still trying to find her, aren’t I? I still have half the military out searching for her.”

  “But are you trying to find her, or this princess?”

  He gestured at Nainsi. “If they’re together, what does it matter? We can find them both!”

  “And then you will give Luna a new queen, and Linh Cinder will be pardoned?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Is that such a horrible thing to hope for?”

  “She’s still one of them. You’ve said yourself that she lied to you about everything. What do you know about her? She stole an ID chip out of a dead girl’s wrist. She helped a known thief escape from prison. Do I need to go on?”

  Cringing, Kai spun back to face the window, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. He hated that every word Torin had said was indisputable—while every hope Nainsi had given him was based on vague observations and hazy guesses.

  “I understand that you feel partially responsible for condemning her to execution,” Torin said, his tone growing gentler. “But you have to stop idolizing her.”

  “Idolize—” Kai faced him again. “I don’t idolize her.”

  Torin gave him a speculative look, until Kai began to grow uncomfortable.

  “I might admire her sometimes, but even you have to admit that it’s pretty impressive what she’s done. Plus, she stood up to Levana at the ball. You weren’t impressed by that? Just a little?”

  Torin buttoned his suit jacket. “My point, Your Majesty, is that you seem to be putting an awful lot of faith in a girl you know virtually nothing about, and who has caused us all a great deal of trouble.”

  Kai scowled. Torin was right, of course. He didn’t know anything about Cinder, no matter how much he felt that he did.

  But he was the emperor. He had resources. He may not know much about Cinder, but if she could find out about the lost Lunar princess, then he could find out more about her. And he knew just where to start looking.

  Twenty-Three

  This time when Cress awoke, it was not sand engulfing her—although there was plenty of that—but arms. Thorne had pulled her against him so close that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest and his breath on the back of her neck. She groggily peeled her eyelids open.

  Night had fallen. The moon had returned, larger than the night before and surrounded by a sea of stars that winked and glittered at them.

  She was deathly thirsty and couldn’t find any saliva to wet her parched tongue. She started to shiver, despite the layers of sheets and blankets and the parachute and the heat rising off her scorched skin. Despite Thorne’s protective warmth.

  Teeth rattling, she nestled against him as much as she could. His embrace tightened around her.

  She looked up. The stars were moving, swirling over her head like a whirlpool trying to suck the whole planet into its depths. The stars were taunting her. Laughing.

  She shut her eyes tight, and was met with visions of Sybil’s cruel smile. News headlines echoed in her head, spoken in a child’s nasally voice. 14 CITIES ATTACKED … LARGEST MASSACRE IN THIRD ERA … 16,000 DEATHS …

  “Cress. Cress, wake up.”

  She jolted, still shaking. Thorne was hovering above her, his eyes bright with moonlight.

  He found her face, pressed his palm to her forehead, and cursed. “You’re running a fever.”

  “I’m cold.”

  He rubbed her arms. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not going to like this, but we need to get up. We need to keep moving.”

  They were the cruelest words he could have said. She felt impossibly weak. Her whole body seemed to be made of sand that would blow apart with the slightest breeze.

  “Cress, are you still with me?” He cupped her cheeks in both hands. His skin was cool, soothing.

  “I can’t.” Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth when she spoke.

  “Yes, you can. It will be better to walk at night when it’s cool than to try and move during the day. You understand that, right?”

  “My feet hurt … and I’m so dizzy…”

  Thorne grimaced. She thought of stroking her fingers through his hair. In all the pictures she’d seen of him, even his jail pictures, he’d been so polished, so neat. But now he was a wreck, with whiskers on his chin and dirt in his hair. It did not make him any less handsome.

  “I know you don’t want to keep going,” he said. “I know you deserve a rest. But if we just lie here, you might never get up.”

  She didn’t think that sounded so awful. As the sand began to rock beneath her, she pressed her hand against his chest, seeking out the steadying heartbeat. She sighed happily when she found it. Her body began to dissolve, little grains of sand scattering.…

  “Captain,” she murmured. “I think I’m in love with you.”

  An eyebrow shot up. She counted six beats of his heart before, suddenly, he laughed. “Don’t tell me it took you
two whole days to realize that. I must be losing my touch.”

  Her fingertips curled against him. “You knew?”

  “That you’re lonely, and I’m irresistible? Yeah. I knew. Come on, Cress, you’re getting up.”

  Her head dropped into the sand, sleep threatening to take over. If he would just lie down beside her and take her into his arms, she would never have to get up again.

  “Cress—hey, no more sleeping. I need you. Remember the vultures, Cress. Vultures.”

  “You don’t need me. You wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for me.”

  “Not true. Well … only kind of true. We’ve already been over this.”

  She shuddered. “Do you hate me?”

  “Of course not. And you should stop wasting your energy talking about stupid things.” Scooping an arm beneath her shoulders, he forced her to sit up.

  She gripped his wrist. “Do you think you could ever love me back?”

  “Cress, this is sweet, but aren’t I the first guy you’ve ever met? Come on, up you go.”

  She turned her head away, dread pressing down on her. He didn’t believe her. He didn’t understand how intensely she felt.

  “Oh, spades and aces and stars.” He groaned. “You’re not crying again, are you?”

  “N-no.” She bit her lip. It wasn’t a lie. She certainly wanted to cry, but her eyes were all dried up.

  Thorne pulled a hand through his hair, knocking away a cloud of sand. “Yes,” he said firmly. “We are obviously soul mates. Now please, stand up.”

  “You’ve probably told lots of girls you loved them.”

  “Well, yeah, but I would have reconsidered if I’d known you were going to hold it against me.”

  Misery washing over her, she crumpled against his side. Her head spun. “I’m dying,” she murmured, struck by the certainty of it. “I’m going to die. And I’ve never even been kissed.”

  “Cress. Cress. You’re not going to die.”

  “We were going to have such a passionate romance, too, like in the dramas. But, no—I’ll die alone, never kissed, not once.”

  He groaned, but it was out of frustration, not heartbreak. “Listen, Cress, I hate to break this to you, but I am sweaty and itchy and haven’t brushed my teeth in two days. This just isn’t a good time for romance.”

  She squeaked and tucked her head between her knees, trying to get the world to stop turning so fast. The hopelessness of their situation was crushing her. The desert would never end. They would never get out. Thorne would never love her back.

  “Cress. Look at me. Are you looking at me?”

  “Mm-hmm,” she mumbled.

  Thorne hesitated. “I don’t believe you.”

  Sighing, she pried her head up so she could peer at him through the curtain of chopped hair. “I’m looking at you.”

  He crouched close to her and felt for her face. “I promise, I will not let you die without being kissed.”

  “I’m dying now.”

  “You are not dying.”

  “But—”

  “I will be the judge of when you are dying, and when that happens, I guarantee you will get a kiss worth waiting for. But right now, you have to get up.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. His eyes were surprisingly clear, almost like he could see her back, and he didn’t flinch before her skeptical silence. He didn’t grin nonchalantly or offer a teasing follow-up. He just waited.

  She couldn’t help it when her attention drifted down to his mouth, and she felt something stir inside her. Resolve.

  “Do you promise?”

  He nodded. “I promise.”

  Shuddering at the pain that awaited her, she braced herself and held her hands out to him. The world tilted as he hoisted her up and she stumbled, but Thorne held her until she was steady. Hunger gnawed at her empty stomach. Pain bit into her raw feet, shooting up through her legs and into her spine. Her whole face contorted, but she ignored it the best she could. With Thorne’s help, she retied the sheet around her head.

  “Are your feet bleeding?”

  She could barely see them in the darkness, and they were still wrapped in the towels. “I don’t know. They hurt. A lot.”

  “Your fever might be from an infection.” He handed her the last bottle of water, now half full. “Or you’re dehydrated. Drink all of that.”

  She paused with the water bottle already tipped against her mouth, carefully, so as not to lose a single drop. It was a tempting offer. She could drink it all and still be thirsty, but …

  “All of it,” said Thorne.

  She drank until she could stop without her throat crying for more. “But what about you?”

  “I’ve had my fill.”

  She knew it wasn’t true, but her tolerance for selflessness lessened with every gulp and soon she’d done as he asked and drank it all. She stood wavering on her feet with the bottle turned up to the sky, hoping to capture another drop, until she was sure there was nothing left.

  She swooned, longingly placing the empty bottle into the blanket-sack on Thorne’s shoulder. Peering at the horizon, she spotted the mountainous shadows, still so far away.

  Thorne picked up his cane and she forced herself to take in three solid breaths before she started, hoping they would give her courage. She estimated the amount of steps it would take to reach the next sand dune, and then began counting. One foot in front of the other. Warm air in, warm air out. The fantasy of being a brave explorer had long since dissipated, but she still clung to the knowledge that Thorne was relying on her.

  She plodded up the dune as her teeth began to chatter again. She stumbled twice. She tried to call up comforting daydreams. A soft bed, a worn blanket. Sleeping in well past the sunrise, in a softly lit room where flowers grew outside the windowsill. Waking up in Thorne’s arms. His fingers stroking the hair off her brow, his lips pressing a good-morning kiss against her temple …

  But she couldn’t hold on to them. She had never known a room like that, and the hard-earned visions were too quickly overshadowed by pain.

  One dune came and went. She was already panting.

  Two dunes. The mountains lingered tauntingly in the distance.

  Each time they topped one, she would focus on the next. We’ll just crest that hill, and then I’ll sit for a minute. Just one more …

  But instead of letting herself rest when the goal was reached, she chose another and kept going.

  Thorne didn’t comment when she slipped and landed on her knees. He just picked her up and set her back on her feet. He said nothing when her pace slowed to a mere crawl, so long as they didn’t stop. His presence was reassuring—never impatient, never harsh.

  After ages of delirious, mind-numbing progress through the sand, when she felt as though every limb were about to fall off, the sky to the east began to brighten, and Cress realized that the landscape was changing. The sand dunes were becoming shorter and shallower and, not far in the distance, they seemed to end in a long, flat plain of rocky red soil, dotted with scarce, prickly shrubs. Beyond that began the foothills of the mountains.

  She glanced at Thorne and was surprised to catch the evidence of exhaustion etched into his features, though he replaced it with steadfast determination as they came to a stop.

  She described the sight as well as she could.

  “Can you guess how long it will take to reach those shrubs?”

  She estimated, unable to bury the panic that it would turn out to be another illusion and that the respite of sand and swells would flee farther away with every step they took. “No.”

  He nodded. “That’s all right. We’ll try to get to them before it gets too hot. We might be able to get some dew off their branches.”

  Dew. Water. Even just a lick, just a taste … never again would she snub a single muddy gulp.

  She started again, her legs screaming with the first few steps, until they began to numb again to the endless walking.

  Then her eye snagged on somethin
g big and white, and she froze.

  Thorne crashed into her, and Cress would have collapsed if he hadn’t wrapped his arms around her shoulders, steadying her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s … an animal,” she whispered, afraid to startle the creature that stood at the top of the dune.

  It had already seen them and was staring serenely at Cress. She tried to place it with what she knew of Earthen wildlife. A goat of some sort? A gazelle? It had slender white legs atop enormous hoofs and a rounded belly that showed the edges of ribs. Its calm face was tan with swaths of black and white, like a mask around its eyes. Two towering spiral horns twisted up from its head, doubling its height.

  It was the first Earthen animal she had ever seen, and it was beautiful and regal and mysterious, watching her with dark, unblinking eyes.

  For a moment, she imagined that she could speak to it with her mind, ask it to lead them to safety. It would recognize the goodness inside her and take pity, like an ancient animal goddess sent to guide her to her destiny.

  “An animal?” Thorne said, and she realized he’d been waiting for her to further explain what she was seeing.

  “It has long legs and horns and … and it’s beautiful.”

  “Oh, good, we’re back to this, then.” She could hear the smile in his tone, but she dared not take her gaze from the creature, lest it dissolve into the air like a phantom.

  “Could mean there’s a water source nearby,” Thorne mused. “We should keep going.”

  Cress took a tentative step forward. She felt the slip of sand more keenly than she had before, and recognized just how clumsy she and Thorne were, stumbling and scrambling over the dunes, while this creature stood so elegant and calm.

  The creature tilted its head, not moving as Cress inched closer.

  She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until the beast’s eyelids flickered and it turned its head toward something on the other side of the dune.

  The crack of a gunshot rang out across the desert.

  Twenty-Four

  The creature balked and tumbled down the dune, blood dribbling from the wound in its side. Cress cried out and fell backward. Thorne pulled her down into the sand. “Cress! Are you all right?”