Wolf guided her forward, and if he was sharing any of her anxiety, he didn’t show it.
The main corridor was lined with palace guards in fine red coats and tasseled epaulets. Cress recognized a painted screen on one wall—mountains standing over misty clouds and a crane-filled lake. Her gaze instinctively flitted up to one of the ornate chandeliers that lined the corridor, and though it was too small for her to see, she knew that one of the queen’s cameras was there, watching them even now.
Though she doubted the queen or Sybil or anyone who could possibly have recognized Cress was bothering to watch the surveillance feeds at that moment, she nevertheless turned her head away and started laughing as if Wolf had made a joke.
He frowned at her.
“These chandeliers are extraordinary, aren’t they?” she said, putting as much lightness into her tone as she could.
Wolf’s expression remained unfazed, and after a blank moment, he shook his head and resumed his steady pace toward the ballroom.
They found themselves on a landing that swooped down a grand staircase and opened up into an enormous, beautiful room. The mere size of it reminded her of the desert’s expansiveness and she was overwhelmed by the same awe and dizziness she’d had before. She was glad they weren’t the only ones lingering at the top of the stairs and watching as the crowd drifted in and filled up rows of plush seats beneath them. There was at least an hour before the ceremony would officially begin, and many of the guests were using the time to mingle and take in the beauty of it all.
Many pillars throughout the room were carved with gold-tinted dragons, and the walls were filled with so many bouquets of flowers, some as tall as Cress, that it was like the gardens had begun to grow wild inside. Half a dozen birdcages stood beside the floor-to-ceiling windows, displaying doves and mockingbirds and sparrows, which sang a chaotic melody that rivaled the beauty of the orchestra.
Cress turned to face Wolf so that, should anyone look at them, it would seem as though they were in deep conversation. He bent his head toward her to complete the masquerade, though his focus was on the nearest guard.
“You don’t suppose we should … mingle, do you?”
He screwed up his nose. “I think we’d better not.” Glancing around, he held his elbow toward her. “But perhaps we could go sympathize with some caged birds.”
Forty-Eight
After passing through the dank cellar, Cinder was glad to discover that the escape tunnel was, well, fit for an emperor. The floor was tiled and the walls were smooth concrete with dim lightbulbs set every twenty steps. They could walk without fear of Thorne tripping on jagged rocks.
Nevertheless, they were making painfully slow progress, and more than once Cinder considered leaving them behind. Thorne did a decent job of keeping up, but Dr. Erland’s age combined with his short legs made his pace feel like an agonizing crawl. If she didn’t think it would offend him, she would have offered him a piggyback ride.
She kept reminding herself that they had planned for this. They were right on schedule.
It would all be fine.
She told herself again and again.
Eventually she began to notice signs that they were approaching the palace. Stockrooms filled with nonperishable goods and jugs of water and rice wine. Power generators that sat silent and unused. Large rooms, empty but for enormous round tables and uncomfortable-looking chairs, black netscreens and switch panels and processors—not state of the art, but new enough that it was clear these escape tunnels would be ready for use if they were ever needed. Should the royal family ever need to go into hiding, they would be able to stay down here for a long time.
And not just the royal family, Cinder realized as they trudged on, passing more stockrooms and hallways that branched in every direction. This was a labyrinth. It seemed that there was enough space for the entire government to come live down here, or at least everyone who worked in the palace.
“We’re almost there,” she said, tracking their position through satellite navigation and the map on her retina display.
“Wait, where are we going again? It’s been so long since we left the ship, I can’t remember.”
“Very funny, Thorne.” She glanced back. Thorne was walking with one palm on the wall, and Dr. Erland was using his cane. She wondered how long it had been since Thorne had given it to him, and how long it had been since the doctor’s breathless wheezing had begun in earnest. She’d hardly noticed it, too preoccupied with the plan that filled up her head.
Now, seeing beads of sweat on the doctor’s brow, dripping down from the brim of his hat, she paused. “Are you all right?”
“Dreamy,” he breathed, his head lowered. “Just holding on … to a comet’s tail. Stardust and sand dunes and … why is it so … blasted hot in here?”
Cinder rubbed the back of her neck. “Right. Um. We made good time,” she lied. “Maybe we should rest for a minute?”
The doctor shook his head. “No—my Crescent Moon is up there. We stick to the plan.”
Thorne inched toward them, looking equally perplexed. “Isn’t it a full moon tonight?”
“Doctor, you’re not having hallucinations, are you?”
Dr. Erland narrowed his blue eyes at her. “Go. I’m right behind. I’m … I’m better already.”
Part of her wanted to argue, but she couldn’t deny that there wasn’t a whole lot of time to waste even if he wanted to. “Fine. Thorne?”
He shrugged and swung his hand toward her. “Lead the way.”
Cinder double-checked the map and moved forward, waiting for one of the corridor offshoots to line up with the instructions Cress had given her. When she spotted a stairwell curling up out of view, she slowed down, and checked their location with the palace blueprint. “I think this is it. Thorne, watch your step. Doctor?”
“Hearty good, thank you,” he said, gripping his side.
Bracing herself, Cinder started to climb. The stairs wrapped upward, the lights from below fading into shadows and, eventually, so much darkness that she turned on her flashlight again. The wall was smooth and undecorated but for a metal handrail. Cinder estimated that she’d trekked up three stories’ worth of steps before she came to a door. It was big enough for four people to walk through side by side, made of thick, reinforced steel. As expected, there were no hinges and no handle on this side—a fail-safe in case anyone discovered the entrance into the safety tunnel and tried to sneak into the palace.
This door was only meant to be opened from the inside.
Gripping the handrail, Cinder raised her other fist and tapped out a melody.
Then she waited, wondering if she’d been loud enough, wondering if they were too soon, wondering if they were too late and the plan had already fallen apart.
But then she heard a noise. A thunking deadbolt, a grinding lock mechanism, the squeak of unused hinges.
Iko stood before her, beaming and holding a pile of neatly folded clothes. “Welcome to New Beijing Palace.”
* * *
Though he didn’t want to admit it out loud, Thorne was sad to be splitting up from Cinder and going forth with only the grumpy, wheezing doctor to act as his guide. So far, he hadn’t sensed a whole lot of warmth coming off the old man, who didn’t seem to think that fixing Thorne’s blindness was a big priority, not to mention the crazy babble he’d been spouting down in the tunnels. Nevertheless, here they were. In the palace. Heading toward the labs where they would find the equipment necessary to do all that weird pseudo-science optical-repair stuff the doctor had talked about.
Alone.
Just the two of them.
“This way,” said the doctor, and Thorne adjusted his direction, keeping one hand on the wall. He missed the cane, but he could hear it clacking up ahead of him, and the doctor seemed to need it more.
Thorne really, really hoped the doctor wasn’t about to keel over. That would ruin oh so many things about this day.
“See anybody?” Thorne asked.
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”
Thorne scowled, but kept his mouth shut. It was as they’d hoped. No one would expect a palace break-in from the top-secret escape tunnels, so while all the guard power was being kept at the palace gates and around the ballroom, he and the doctor should have the lab wing all to themselves.
At least, until it was time to draw some attention away from Cinder and Cress.
The surface of the wall changed beneath his fingers, from a warm, papery texture, to something cool and smooth. He heard a door open.
“Here,” said the doctor. “More stairs.”
“Why not take the elevator?”
“It’s android operated. Would require an authorized ID chip.”
Thorne gripped the handrail and followed the doctor up, and up. The doctor had to stop twice to catch his breath, and Thorne waited, trying to be patient, all the while wondering what Cress was doing. If she would be ready when the time came.
He didn’t dwell on it. She was with Wolf. She would be fine.
Finally, the doctor pushed open another door. A short distance across hard, slick floors. The new hum of lights overhead.
“Cozy Lab 6D. This is where I met the princess, you know.”
“Lab 6D. Right. I’ve had good success meeting princesses in research labs myself.” His nose wrinkled. The room smelled of hospitals, sterile and cold and medicinal.
“There’s a lab table about four steps ahead of you. Lie down.”
“Really? You don’t want to take a break, catch your breath…?”
“We don’t have time.”
Gulping, Thorne inched forward until his hand smacked a padded table. He sought out the edge before lifting himself onto it. Tissue paper crinkled beneath him. “But isn’t this the part where you shove sharp objects into my pelvic bone? Maybe we don’t want to rush.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes. Terribly so, yes.”
The doctor snorted. “Just like you. To finally show a bit of humanity beneath the arrogance, and of course it’s only a concern for yourself. I’m hardly surprised.”
“Wouldn’t you be a little concerned in this situation? My eyesight. My pelvis.”
“My country. My princess. My daughter.”
“What daughter? What are you even talking about?”
The doctor harrumphed and Thorne could hear him banging through drawers. “I suppose your eyesight was lost while attempting to rescue Crescent from that satellite. For that alone, I suppose I do owe you.”
Thorne scratched his cheek. “I suppose you do?”
“Did she tell you, by chance, how long she’d been imprisoned?”
“Cress? Seven years, in the satellite.”
“Seven years!”
“Yeah. Before that I guess she was kept with a bunch of other shells in some volcanic dormitories or something. I don’t remember. That thaumaturge had been collecting blood samples from them, but Cress didn’t seem to know why.”
A cabinet door slammed shut, followed by silence.
“Doctor?”
“Collecting blood samples? From shells?”
“Weird, right? But at least she wasn’t subjected to any bizarre genetic tampering like Wolf.” Thorne shook his head. “I’m not sure about those Lunar scientists. They seem to be doing a lot of crazy stuff up there.”
Another silence, before more rustling. Thorne heard a chair or a table being wheeled toward him.
“They must have been using shell blood to develop the antidote,” the doctor mused. “But the timing doesn’t make sense. She was taken before letumosis even broke out, here on Earth. Before it was known to exist.”
Thorne tilted his ear toward the doctor as his rambling faded off. “What now?”
“Unless … Unless.”
“Unless … what now?”
“Oh, stars. That’s why they wanted them. The poor children. My poor, sweet Crescent Moon…”
Thorne settled his chin on his palm. “Never mind. You finish your nonsensical ramblings and let me know when you’re ready to proceed.”
Another rumble of wheels on the hard floor. “You do not deserve her, you know,” the doctor said, with a new edge to his tone.
“I’m sure I—wait, what?”
“I hope she comes to her senses soon, because I see how she looks at you and I do not care for it, not one bit.”
“Who are we talking about?”
Something clattered as the doctor dropped what Thorne assumed were medical tools onto a metal tray. “It doesn’t matter now. Lie down.”
“Pause one second. And be honest.” Thorne held up a finger. “Are you having a mental breakdown right now?”
The doctor huffed. “Carswell Thorne. I may have just made a very important discovery that must be shared with Emperor Kaito and the other Earthen leaders immediately. But that cannot happen until we have finished with this whole charade. Now, by my estimation, we have fewer than five minutes to extract the needed stem cells and divide them for the regenerating solution. I may not like you, but I am aware that we are on the same side, and we are both invested in seeing Cress and Cinder leave this palace today, alive. Now, are you going to trust me or not?”
Thorne considered the question for probably longer than the doctor wanted him to, before he sighed and lay back on the table. “Ready when you are. But first, don’t forget to—”
“I haven’t forgotten. Activating letumosis outbreak alarm—now.”
Thorne heard the soft pad of fingertips on a netscreen, and then a blaring siren screamed through the halls.