Stars Above

by Marissa Meyer

  Cress was right. Thorne’s takeoffs were still horrendous. But Cinder didn’t move away from that window until the white city of Artemisia was nothing but a glint of light on the moon’s cratered surface.

  * * *

  The landing was better, maybe because Cinder was so entertained by Iko’s bubbling monologue about European wedding traditions that she hardly noticed the rocks and sways of the ship. While in space, she had fixed the loose fitting that had caused the rattle and spent the rest of the long flight catching up with Thorne and Cress, learning of all the sightseeing and adventures they’d had in between antidote runs. Thorne, it seemed, had made it a personal goal to ensure that Cress got to see and experience everything she’d ever dreamed of seeing and experiencing, and it was a personal goal he was taking seriously. Cress didn’t seem to be complaining, though it was clear from the way they leaned into each other that it was his company, more than the museums and monuments, that really mattered to her.

  “How often have you been to visit Wolf and Scarlet?” Iko asked, kicking her feet against a storage crate in the cargo bay as Thorne powered down the ship’s engines.

  “A few times a year,” said Cress. “Scarlet finally built us a landing pad beside the hangar so Thorne would stop flattening her crops.” She glanced toward the cockpit. “I hope he didn’t miss it.”

  They could hear Thorne’s growl from the cockpit. “I didn’t miss it!”

  The ramp roared and creaked as it began to lower, and Cinder stood, surprised at how her heart started to thunder.

  First there was the sky—a strip of impossible blue along the ramp’s edge. Then her first full breath of air. Air that came from trees and plants, not a recycling tank, and it was coupled with the aroma of fresh-churned earth and sweet hay and not-so-sweet animals. There were so many noises, too, distantly familiar. Birds chirping. Chickens clucking. A breeze whistling through the opening the ramp had created. And also … voices. A cacophony of voices. Too many voices.

  It wasn’t until the ramp was halfway lowered that Cinder saw them. Not Wolf and Scarlet and their friends, but … journalists.

  “It’s her! Selene! Your Majesty!”

  Cinder took a step back and felt her serenity slough away, leaving behind the same tension she’d lived with for two long years. That feeling of being in the spotlight, of having responsibilities, of needing to meet expectations …

  “Why did you abdicate the throne?” someone yelled. And another: “How does it feel to be back on Earth?” And “Will you attend the Commonwealth ball again this year?” And “Is the upcoming Lunar-Earthen wedding a political statement? Do you want to say anything about the union?”

  A loud gunshot blared across the gravel driveway. The journalists screamed and dispersed, some cowering behind the Rampion’s landing gear, others rushing back to the safety of their own hovers.

  “I’ll give you a statement,” said Scarlet, reloading the shotgun in her arms as she marched toward them. She sent a piercing glare at the journalists who dared to peek out at her. “And the statement is, Leave my guests alone, you pitiful, news-starved vultures.”

  With a frustrated huff, she looked up at Cinder, who had been joined by the others at the top of the ramp. Scarlet looked much the same as Cinder remembered her, only more frenzied. Her eyes had an annoyed, bewildered look to them as she gestured haplessly at the farmland behind her.

  “Welcome to France. Let’s get you inside before they send out the android journalists—they’re not as easy to scare off.”

  * * *

  Scarlet released a groan as she shut the front door behind her guests. “They started showing up two weeks ago,” she said. “They tried camping out in the sugar beet fields, like they owned the place! I’ve had to call the police four times for trespassing, but honestly, I think the police are about as dumbfounded by all this media attention as I am.” She sighed and slumped against the door. “I wanted a quiet, intimate wedding, not a circus.”

  Thorne leaned against the staircase rail. “It’s the first known Lunar-Earthen wedding in generations, the groom is a bioengineered wolf-human hybrid, and you invited the emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth and an ex–Lunar Queen. What did you expect?”

  Scarlet glared at him. “I am marrying the man that I love, and I invited my friends to celebrate with us. I expected a little bit of privacy.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Cinder. “We should have tried to be more discreet with our plans.”

  Scarlet shook her head. “It’s not your fault. Kai’s travel schedule is pretty much public knowledge, so there was no stopping this, I’m afraid.” She snorted. “Just be glad you weren’t here to see the hoard of screaming girls when he arrived.”

  Cinder stood straighter. “He’s here already?”

  Scarlet nodded. “He arrived last night. And Winter and Jacin flew over from Canada this morning. Everyone’s here, so now I just need to survive the next three days of chaos until the wedding, and then it will all be over.” She massaged her brow. “At least, that’s assuming the bloodsucking heathens out there don’t try to crash the ceremony. You know, the worst part of it is that they keep trying to make this out to be some big political statement. ‘Earth and Luna, united at last!’ ‘Earthen girl tortured by Levana agrees to marry Lunar soldier!’ It’s revolting.” She sighed before adding, “He’s not here, Cinder.”

  Cinder snapped her attention back to Scarlet, realizing she’d been ignoring most of her diatribe while she peered through the doorways into the kitchen and sitting room and tried to listen for footsteps coming from the floor above. “What?”

  Iko tittered, but Scarlet buried her annoyance with an understanding smirk. “Wolf took them for a tour of the farm. They’ll be back soon.”

  “Right. Sorry. I wasn’t—”

  Scarlet waved her away. “It’s fine. Besides, if anyone understands what it’s like for their relationship to be treated like a political stunt, it’s you.”

  Cinder lowered her eyes, not sure if that was meant to make her feel better.

  “Hey, Cinder,” Thorne said, pacing to the opening that separated the entryway from a humble sitting room. “Remember when we were here before? When we were just two crazy fugitives, on the run from the law?”

  “You mean when we discovered the secret lair under the hangar where I’d been kept comatose for eight years of my life, then turned into a cyborg by some mystery surgeon before being given away to a family who didn’t really want me? Yeah, Thorne, those were the good old days.”

  Thorne winked. “I was actually referring to that cute blonde who found us and nearly had a heart attack. Hey, is she going to be at the wedding?”

  “Her name is Émilie,” said Scarlet, “and yes, she is. Please try not to flirt with her in front of your girlfriend. I have enough drama to deal with this week as it is.”

  Cress shrugged. “It doesn’t really faze me much anymore. Besides, he probably already told her he loved her, so what else can he say?”

  Thorne cast his gaze to the ceiling in thought. “It’s true. I might have. I honestly don’t remember.”

  Cress rolled her eyes, but if she was harboring any resentment, Cinder couldn’t detect it. She opted not to tell them that Thorne had in fact claimed love at first sight when Émilie had fainted at the farmhouse’s front door.

  Hinges squeaked from the back of the house, followed by thumping footsteps and Winter’s dreamy voice flowing through the house’s narrow halls.

  “But I will have a chance to milk her before we go? I’ve never milked a cow before. I think I’d be good at it.”

  “Of course you would,” said Jacin with a chuckle. “She’ll just stare at you dumbfounded the whole time like all the other animals that fall under your spell.”

  “What spell?” said Winter, knocking her shoulder into Jacin as they rounded the base of the stairway. “I’m not a hypnotist.”

  “Are you sure?”

  They froze when they spotted everyone in the fo
yer.

  “You made it!” cried Winter. She flung herself at Cinder, giving her a brief squeeze before embracing Thorne, Cress, and Iko in turn.

  Wolf had come in with them, too, showing a full row of sharp teeth as he grinned at the new arrivals. And beside him …

  “I told them that was the dulcet roar of a Rampion’s engines,” said Kai, “but they all insisted it was just another media hover flying over.” His hands were tucked into his pockets and he was dressed more casually than Cinder was used to seeing him—a cotton button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms and dark denim jeans. She had never imagined that farm life might suit him, but he looked as comfortable here as he did anywhere.

  Cinder crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re an expert on the sound levels of spaceships now, are you?”

  “Nah,” said Kai. “I’ve just been waiting to hear that sound all day.”

  She smiled at him, feeling the hummingbird flutter of her own pulse. He smiled back.

  “Aces,” said Thorne with a low groan. “They haven’t even kissed yet and they’re already making me nauseous.”

  His comment was followed by a pained grunt, but Cinder didn’t know which of her friends had smacked him. Kai rolled his eyes, then grabbed Cinder’s hand and yanked her toward the back hallway. It was only a few steps. Not even a wall or door separated them from the others, but within moments it felt like they were alone.

  Covertly, blissfully alone.

  “How was the flight?” Kai whispered, standing so close she imagined she could feel the vibrations of his heartbeat in the air between them.

  “Oh, you know,” Cinder murmured back. “Thorne was flying, so it was a constant stream of near-death experiences. How’s emperor life?”

  “Oh, you know. Press conferences. Cabinet meetings. Adoring fans everywhere I go.”

  “So also a constant stream of near-death experiences?”

  “Pretty much.” He’d inched closer to her as they talked. Cinder was nearly pressed against the wall, standing between a wall peg holding heavy overalls and a stack of muddy boots on the floor. “Is that an acceptable amount of small talk?”

  “Acceptable to me,” said Cinder, digging her hands into his hair and pulling him to her.

  * * *

  Breakfast served in 20 minutes.

  Cinder grumbled under her breath at the message scrolling across the darkness of her eyelids. She squeaked her eyes open and peered into the dim sunlight that filtered through the room’s tiny window. The familiarity of the Rampion surrounded her, a far cry from the luxury of Artemisia Palace, yet more comfortable to her even now. The gurgle of a water tank through the metal walls. The aromas of steel and recirculating air. The too-firm mattress on the bunk bed’s lower cot.

  However, the sensation of an arm thrown over her waist was something new.

  She smiled and shut her eyes again, ushering Scarlet’s comm away. She and Kai had stayed up far too late—rays of sunlight were appearing on the horizon when they’d finally fallen asleep. They’d wandered the endless crops, their hands interlaced, content that all the journalists had finally gone to bed. They’d sat on the stoop of the farmhouse, staring up at the moon in a near-cloudless sky. They’d ended up in the crew quarters that Kai had slept in during his stint aboard the ship, cuddled on the lower bed and talking, talking, talking, until the words had turned gummy in their mouths and their eyelids had been too heavy to keep open.

  It was almost like they’d never been separated at all, and Cinder couldn’t help feeling relieved to know that his presence was as reassuring to her now as it ever had been. She felt like she could tell him anything and, judging from the fears and pet peeves and frustrations he’d shared with her, she sensed he felt the same way.

  With a heavy sigh, she eased onto her back. Kai groaned in protest and shifted his weight to press his face into the pillow beside her head.

  “Scarlet’s making breakfast,” she told him. Her voice was scratchy from the hours of talking and laughing.

  “Time is it?” Kai mumbled into the pillow.

  Cinder checked the clock in her head. “Almost nine.”

  Kai groaned again. They couldn’t have slept for more than four hours. She guessed that Wolf and Scarlet had been up since dawn, tending to the farm. They had probably just missed each other.

  “Come on,” she said, reaching for Kai’s arm. “It’s a big day.”

  Kai jerked in protest when her metal hand touched him, and Cinder recoiled.

  “Stars, that hand gets cold,” Kai murmured. Rolling onto his back, he took the prosthetic hand in between both of his palms, warming it as he would warm icy fingers on a winter’s day. Cinder sat up and looked down at him. His eyes were still closed. He could have fallen asleep again, but for his palms rubbing over her metal hand. His shirt was rumpled, his hair tousled against the sheets.

  “Kai?”

  He grunted in response.

  “I love you.”

  A sleepy smile curved across his mouth. “I love you too.”

  “Good.” Leaning over, she kissed him fast. “Because I’m taking the shower first.”

  * * *

  The house was too small to accommodate them all, so while Winter and Jacin had taken the one spare bedroom, the others stayed aboard the Rampion, and they made their way across the drive together once they’d all showered and dressed. The journalists were out in force again, screaming their questions and snapping their pictures, but Wolf and Jacin had erected a simple rope barrier the evening before and, for now at least, the journalists were content to stay behind it rather than risk Scarlet’s wrath.

  Cinder tried to ignore them, but their presence made her a hundred times more aware of the warmth of Kai’s hand pressing against her lower back.

  The house smelled of bacon and strong coffee when they entered. Jacin was sitting at the round table in the kitchen, peeling apart a croissant, while Scarlet, Wolf, and Winter bustled around him in an assortment of patterned cooking aprons—even Wolf had blue-checkered fabric tied around his waist.

  “Grab a plate,” Scarlet ordered, pointing at a stack of plates on the counter with a wooden spoon. “We’re going to eat in the sitting room. It’s too crowded in here.”

  Cinder did as she was told, helping herself to a cinnamon pastry, some bacon, a casserole of potatoes, onions, and peppers, and a cluster of garnet-purple grapes. Then she retreated to the sitting room, where Iko was waiting with one leg thrown over the arm of a rocking chair. She sighed when Cinder sat on the floor beside her.

  “I don’t want to hear one word about how delicious that is,” said Iko.

  “It’s terrible,” said Cinder, biting a piece of bacon in half. After swallowing, she added, “Especially the bacon. You would hate bacon.”

  The others filed in, taking over the sofa and nearly every available spot on the worn rug. Wolf and Scarlet came last.

  “One of you had better be planning on making lunch,” said Scarlet, untying her apron as she claimed the last spot on the sofa. Wolf handed her a plate of food, then sat between her feet, draping one arm over her knee as he gobbled down his own food.

  Thorne lifted his fork. “I’ll make a run for takeout?”

  “Deal,” said Scarlet, clinking the side of her fork against his.

  Iko stopped rocking in her chair and leaned forward. “So tell us what’s in store for your big day. Have you had fun planning it? What are you most excited about?”

  Scarlet leaned her head against the sofa. “I’m most excited for it to be over, and for all those stupid media people to leave so we can have our lives back.”

  Wolf petted her knee and kept eating.

  Cress frowned. “Aren’t you excited to be married?”

  “Oh, sure,” said Scarlet. “That part will be nice. But I never wanted to have a big wedding, and I certainly didn’t expect it to turn into this jamboree.” She straightened again. “Not that I’m regretting inviting you guys,” she added, looking
pointedly at Kai and Cinder, with an extra glance at Winter. “Obviously, I want you here. It’s just…” She heaved a big sigh.

  “We understand,” said Kai, picking apart the sections of an orange. “Having lived with paparazzi my whole life, I would never wish it on anyone.”

  “You don’t really think they’ll interrupt the ceremony, do you?” asked Iko.

  Scarlet shrugged. “I hope they have more integrity than that. Although it is tradition for the bride and groom to walk to the ceremony through the streets of town and cut through ribbons that the children are supposed to have prepared for us. But I can’t even fathom walking down my own driveway with those goons out there, so I don’t know if that’s going to happen.”

  Cinder cleared her throat. “Is that tradition … important to you?”

  Scarlet scoffed. “The only tradition that I care about is saying I do.”

  There was an almost visible sigh of relief around the room and Cinder flinched, sure it would be obvious to Scarlet, but she was buttering a slice of bread and didn’t seem to notice anything unusual. Kai caught Cinder’s eyes and mimed wiping sweat from his brow. She buried a laugh.

  “Tell us more,” said Winter. “I know very little about your Earthen customs, and it could come in useful for my role as cultural ambassador someday.” She cupped her cheek with her hand, nearly obscuring her scars. “But mostly, I want to know what traditions Scarlet Benoit-Kesley deems important.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Scarlet. “We’ll exchange rings and say some vows, but you do that on Luna too, don’t you?”

  Winter nodded. “Will you carry a bouquet?”

  “Probably. I thought I’d pick whatever looked good in the garden that day.”

  “Do you have a color scheme?” asked Iko.

  Scarlet hesitated. “Um … white?”

  “Will there be cake?” asked Cress.

  Scarlet grinned. “Of a sort. Émilie is bringing croquembouche, which is a big stack of doughy pastry balls drizzled with caramel. It’ll be delicious.”