Realizing that all eyes had turned to her again, she hastily shoveled the rest of the potato into her mouth, though the spices were making her cheeks flush. As she ate, a plate of dried meats was passed to her—she did not ask from what animal—and then a bowl filled with a juicy orange fruit and sweet, green-tinted nuts that were full of so many more flavors than the protein-nuts Sybil had often brought for her.
“Are you traders?” Thorne asked, accepting the handful of shelled nuts that Cress pressed into his palm.
“We are,” said Jina. “We make this trek four times a year. I am upset by the threat of thieves. We haven’t had such trouble in ages.”
“Desperate times,” said Thorne with a shrug. “If you don’t mind my asking, why camels? It makes your way of life seem very … second era.”
“Not at all. We make our living serving many of the smaller communities in the Sahara, many of which don’t even have magnets on their own streets, much less on the trade routes between them.”
Cress noticed Thorne’s hand tightening around his bowl. The Sahara. So her stargazing had been correct. But his expression remained impassive and she forced hers to do the same.
“Why not use wheeled vehicles then?”
“We do occasionally,” said one of the men, “for special circumstances. But the desert does harsh things to machinery. They’re not as reliable as the camels.”
Jina took a few slices of the sticky sweet fruit and added it to the top of her curry. “This may not be a luxurious life, but we stay busy. Our towns rely on us.”
Cress listened attentively, but kept her attention on the food. Now that they were safe, sheltered, and fed, she was developing a new fear: that at any moment, one of these men or women might look at her and see something different, something not quite … Earthen.
Or that they would recognize Thorne, one of the most-wanted fugitives on the planet.
Whenever she dared to look up, she found their focus pinned on her and Thorne. She hunkered over her bowl of food, trying to fend off their prying eyes, and hoped that no one spoke to her. She became certain that any word she said would mark her as different, that simply by meeting their gazes she would give herself away.
“Not many tourists come through here,” said Jina’s husband, Niels. “Any foreigners are usually just here for mining, or archeology. This side of the desert’s been almost forgotten since the outbreaks started.”
“We heard the outbreaks aren’t half as bad as rumored,” said Thorne, lying with an ease that astonished Cress.
“You heard wrong. The plague outbreak is as bad as they think. Worse.”
“Which town were you traveling to?” asked Jina.
“Oh—whichever one you’re going to,” Thorne said, not missing a beat. “We don’t want to burden you. We’ll take our leave in any town with a netscreen. Er … you wouldn’t happen to have any portscreens on hand, would you?”
“We do,” said the oldest woman, perhaps in her fifties. “But net access is fickle here. We won’t have a good connection until we get to Kufra.”
“Kufra?”
“The next trading town,” said Niels. “It will take us another day to get there, but you should be able to find whatever you need.”
“We’ll rest today and tonight and set out tomorrow,” said Jina. “You need to replenish yourself, and we want to avoid the high sun.”
Thorne flashed a most grateful smile. “We can’t thank you enough.”
A bout of dizziness spun through Cress’s head, forcing her to set down the bowl.
“You don’t look well,” someone said, she wasn’t sure who.
“My wife was feeling ill earlier.”
“You should have said. She could have heat sickness.” Jina stood, setting aside her food. “Come, you should not be so near the fire. You can use Kwende’s tent tonight, but you should drink more before you sleep. Jamal, bring me some damp blankets.”
Cress accepted the hand that pulled her to her feet. She turned to Thorne and gathered her courage to give him a small, non-theatrical kiss on the cheek, but as soon as she bent toward him, blood rushed to her head. The world flipped over. White spots pricked at her eyesight, and she collapsed into the sand.
Twenty-Five
Cinder pulled back the drapes and stepped into the shop, holding the curtain for Jacin as she surveyed the shelves around her. Jars were filled with assorted herbs and liquids, many of them labeled in a language she didn’t know, although if she stared at them for too long her netlink would begin searching for a translation. These exotic ingredients were scattered among boxes of drugs and bottles of pills that she recognized from pharmacies in the Commonwealth, along with bundles of gauze and bandages, pasty ointments, portscreen accessories designed for taking various vital stats, massage oils, candles, and anatomical models. Flecks of dust caught on a few streams of light that filtered in from dirty windows, and a fan spun lazily in the corner, doing little to dispel the dry heat. In the corner, a holograph displayed the progression of internal bleeding due to a side injury, occasionally flickering.
Jacin meandered toward the back of the shop, still walking with a slight limp.
“Hello?” Cinder called. Another curtain hung over a doorway on the far wall, alongside an old mirror and a standing sink that was overgrown with a potted plant.
The curtain swished and a woman ducked through, pulling an apron on over plain jeans and a brightly patterned top. “Coming, com—” She spotted Cinder. Her eyes widened, followed by an enormous smile as she yanked the apron strings behind her. “Welcome!” she said in the thick accent that Cinder was becoming familiar with.
“Hi, thank you.” Cinder set a portscreen down on the counter between them, pulling up the list that Dr. Erland had recorded for her. “I’m here for some supplies. I was told you would have these things?”
“Cinder Linh.”
She raised her head. The woman was still beaming. “Yes?”
“You are brave and beautiful.”
She tensed, feeling more like the woman had threatened her than complimented her. In the moments following the unexpected statement, she waited for her lie detector to come on, but it never did. Brave, maybe. At least, she could comprehend why someone would say that after they’d heard the stories about the ball.
But beautiful?
The woman kept smiling.
“Um. Thank you?” She nudged the portscreen toward her. “My friend gave me this list—”
The woman grabbed her hands and squeezed. Cinder gulped, surprised not only by the sudden touch, but at how the woman didn’t flinch when she took her metal hand.
Jacin leaned over the counter and slid the portscreen toward the woman so suddenly that she had to release Cinder’s hand in order to catch it. “We need these things,” he said, pointing at the screen.
The woman’s smile vanished as her gaze swept over Jacin, who was wearing the shirt from his guard uniform, freshly cleaned and patched so that the bloodstains hardly showed on the maroon fabric. “My son was also conscripted to become a guard for Levana.” Her eyes narrowed. “But he was not so rude.”
Jacin shrugged. “Some of us have things to do.”
“Wait,” said Cinder. “You’re Lunar?”
Her expression softened when she focused on Cinder again. “Yes. Like you.”
She buried the discomfort that came with such an open admission. “And your son is a royal guard?”
“No, no. He chose to kill himself, rather than become one of her puppets.” She flashed a glare at Jacin, and stood a little taller.
“Oh. I’m so sorry,” said Cinder.
Jacin rolled his eyes. “I guess he must not have cared about you very much.”
Cinder gasped. “Jacin!”
Shaking his head, he snatched the portscreen back from the woman. “I’ll start looking,” he said, shouldering past Cinder. “Why don’t you ask her what happened next?”
Cinder glared at his back until he had disappeared down one of the rows. “Sorry about that,” she said, searching for some excuse. “He’s … you know. Also Lunar.”
“He is one of hers.”
Cinder turned back to the woman, who looked offended at Jacin’s words. “Not anymore.”
Grunting, the woman turned to reposition the fan so Cinder could catch most of the gentle breeze. “Courage comes in many forms. You know about that.” Pride flickered over the woman’s face.
“I guess so.”
“Perhaps your friend was brave enough to join her guard. My son was brave enough not to.”
Rubbing absently at her wrist, Cinder leaned against the counter. “Did something happen? Afterward?”
“Of course.” There was still pride on her face, but also anger, and also sadness. “Three days after my son died, two men came to our house. They took my husband out into the street and forced him to beg the queen’s forgiveness for raising such a disloyal child. And then they killed him anyway, as punishment. And as a warning to any other conscripts who were thinking of disobeying the crown.” Her eyes were beginning to water, but she held on to a pained smile. “It took me almost four years to find a ship that was coming to Earth and willing to accept me as a stowaway. Four years of pretending that I didn’t hate her. Of pretending to be one more loyal citizen.”
Cinder gulped. “I’m so sorry.”
Reaching forward, the woman cupped Cinder’s cheek. “Thank you for defying her in a way that I never could.” Her voice turned to steel. “I hope you kill her.”
“Do you carry fentanyl-ten?” asked Jacin, returning to the counter and dropping three small boxes onto it.
Pressing her lips, the woman took the portscreen out of his hand. “I will do this,” she said, slipping around the counter and heading toward the front corner of the store.
“That’s what I thought,” he muttered.
Cinder propped her chin on her metal fist, eyeing him. “I never realized royal guard was a mandatory position.”
“Not for everyone. A lot of people want to be chosen. It’s a big honor on Luna.”
“Did you?”
He slid his gaze to her. “Naw. I always wanted to be a doctor.”
His tone was thick with sarcasm, and yet Cinder’s optobionics didn’t peg it as a lie. She crossed her arms. “So. Who were you protecting?”
“What do you mean?”
Something scraped against the floor—the shopkeeper shoving around dusty bins.
“When you were conscripted to be a royal guard. Who would Levana have murdered if you’d refused?”
His pale eyes frosted over. Reaching past the counter, he angled the fan toward himself. “Doesn’t matter. They’re probably going to end up dead anyway.”
Cinder looked away. Because he’d chosen to join her side, his loved ones could suffer. “Maybe not,” she said. “Levana doesn’t know that you betrayed her yet. She could think I glamoured you. That I’m forcing you to help us.”
“And you think that will make a difference?”
“It might.” She watched as the shopkeeper dug through a bin. A fly buzzed near her head and Cinder batted it away. “So how does one get chosen to be a royal guard anyway?”
“There are certain traits they look for.”
“And loyalty isn’t one of them?”
“Why would it be? She can fake loyalty. It’s like with your special-op friend. He would have shown fast reflexes, good instincts, and some amount of common sense. Match him up with a thaumaturge who can turn him into a wild animal, and it no longer matters what he thinks or wants. He just does what he’s told.”
“I’ve seen Wolf fight it,” Cinder said, feeling compelled to defend him now that Scarlet wasn’t here to do it. The first time Cinder had seen Wolf, he’d been covered in blood and crouched threateningly over Scarlet, although Scarlet had always insisted that he wouldn’t have hurt her. That he was different from the others—stronger.
Of course, that was before Wolf had gotten himself shot taking a bullet for a thaumaturge, moments before Scarlet was kidnapped.
“It’s obviously not easy to do,” she amended. “But it is possible for them to fight against the mind control.”
“Lots of good that seems to have done him.”
Locking her jaw, Cinder pressed her metal hand against the back of her neck, letting it cool her down. “He’d rather fight, and lose, than become another one of her pawns. We all would.”
“Good for you. Not everyone’s given that option.”
She noticed that his hand had settled comfortably on the knife sheathed against his thigh. “Clearly Levana didn’t want you for your chattiness. So what were the traits you possessed, that made her think you’d be a good guard?”
That look of smug amusement returned, like he was letting her in on a private joke. “My pretty face,” he said. “Can’t you tell?”
She snorted. “You’re starting to sound like Tho-Thorne.” She stumbled over his name. Thorne, who would never make jokes about his own charisma again.
Jacin didn’t seem to notice. “It’s sad, but true.”
Cinder swallowed her sudden remorse. “Levana chooses her personal guards based on who makes the best wall decorations? I’m suddenly feeling better about our chances.”
“That, and our very weak minds.”
“You’re kidding.”