Winter (The Lunar Chronicles 4)

“I would wait until you’re sitting on a throne before making statements like that,” said Wolf.

Cinder twisted her lips. “Good point. All right, everyone.” She slapped her hands together. “Let’s get started on any last-minute preparations. Cress and Iko, you’re in charge of making final edits to the video. Wolf, I need you to—”

The door to the sublevel hatch burst open, crashing against the wall. Thorne heaved himself up the ladder and immediately rounded on Cinder, who took a startled step back.

“You painted my ship?” he yelled. “Why—what—why would you do that?”

Cinder opened her mouth, but hesitated. She had clearly expected a different sort of greeting. “Oh. That.” She glanced around at Cress, Wolf, and Iko, like asking for backup. “I thought—wow, that was a long time ago. I guess I should have mentioned it.”

“Mentioned it? You shouldn’t have—! You can’t go around painting someone else’s ship! Do you know how long it took me to paint that girl in the first place?”

Cinder squinted one eye shut. “Judging from how precise and detailed it was, I’m going to guess … ten minutes? Fifteen?”

Thorne scowled.

“All right, I’m sorry. But the silhouette was too recognizable. It was a liability.”

“A liability! You’re a liability!” He pointed at Wolf. “He’s a liability. Cress is a liability. We’re all liabilities!”

“Am I one too?” asked Iko. “I don’t want to be left out.”

Thorne rolled his eyes and threw his hands into the air. “Whatever. It’s fine. Not like it’s my ship anyway, is it?” Growling, he dragged a hand through his hair. “I do wish you would have said something before I had a heart attack thinking I’d just hailed the wrong ship.”

“You’re right. Won’t happen again.” Cinder attempted a nervous smile. “So … how did it go?”

“Fine, fine.” Thorne waved the question away. “Despite my inherent distrust of authority figures, I’m starting to like this emperor of yours.”

Cinder raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if I should be relieved or worried.”

Cress bit her cheek, burying an amused smile. She’d sensed some discomfort from Thorne when Kai had come aboard—after all, “Emperor” outranked “Captain” by just about anyone’s standards—but she’d also noticed how Thorne stood a little straighter in Kai’s presence, like he wanted the emperor to be impressed by him and his ship and his crew … just a little.

Shrugging off his jacket, Thorne draped it over the nearest crate. “Anything exciting happen while I was away?” For the first time, his gaze darted past Cinder and Iko to land on Cress, and the look was so sudden and focused she became instantly flustered. Tearing her gaze away, she set to inspecting the metal wall plating.

“The wedding is back on,” said Cinder. “It will take place in Artemisia on the eighth, with the coronation to follow two days later at Lunar sunrise.”

Thorne’s eyebrows jumped upward. “Not wasting any time. Anything else?”

“Levana agreed to a cease-fire,” said Wolf, “but we’re waiting to hear if it’s been implemented.”

“Also, Cress destroyed me in a game of Mountain Miners,” said Iko.

Thorne nodded, as if these two announcements carried the same weight. “She is a genius.”

Cress’s blush deepened, frustratingly. It had been easier to pretend she wasn’t in love with him when he couldn’t tell how often her gaze attached to him, how she blushed at every stray compliment.

“Yeah, but I’m an android.”

Thorne laughed, all anger over the painted ship gone. “Why don’t you play Android Assault then? Maybe that’ll give you an upper hand.”

“Or Robot Resistance,” suggested Cinder.

Thorne snapped his fingers. “Yes. Vintage quality.” His eyes were twinkling, all calm and confident in that way that always made Cress feel more calm and confident too, just from being near him and knowing he was brave and capable and—

And he was looking at her. Again.

She looked away. Again.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Mortified, she found herself fantasizing about crawling down to the podship dock and getting sucked out into space.

“We should get started,” Cinder said. “Pack what supplies we think we’ll need, prepare the ship for extended neutral orbit.”

“You mean abandonment,” said Thorne, the lightness fading from his tone.

“I’ve already adjusted the wiring for the most efficient settings. It will be fine.”

“You know that’s not true. Without Cress disrupting the signals, it won’t be long before the ship is found and confiscated.”

Cinder sighed. “It’s a risk we have to take. How about, once I’m queen, I’ll use my royal coffers or whatever to buy you a new ship?”

Thorne glowered. “I don’t want a new ship.”

Cress felt a pang of sympathy. They were all sad to be leaving the Rampion. It had been a good home for the short time it sheltered them.

“You know, Thorne,” said Cinder, speaking softly, like she didn’t want to say what she was about to say, “you don’t have to come with us. You could take us to Kai, then come back to the Rampion and … you know we would never give you away.” She took in a deep breath. “I mean it. For all of you. You don’t have to go with me. I know the danger I’m putting you in, and that you didn’t know what you were signing up for when you joined me. You could go on with your lives, and I wouldn’t stop you. Wolf, Cress, returning to Luna must feel like a death sentence to you both. And, Iko—”

Iko held up a hand. “You need a system debug if you’re suggesting that I would abandon you now.”

Thorne grinned. His self-assured, one-sided grin. “She’s right. It’s sweet of you to worry, but there’s no way you can pull this off without us.”

Pressing her lips, Cinder didn’t argue.

Cress stayed silent, wondering if she was the only one who was briefly tempted by Cinder’s offer. Returning to Luna was like sentencing themselves to death—especially a shell like her, who should have been killed years ago. Undermining Levana from the safety of space was one thing. But walking right into Artemisia … it was almost like asking to be killed.

But Thorne was right. Cinder needed them. All of them.

She shut her eyes and reminded herself to be brave.

“Besides,” added Iko, breaking the tension, “our captain is still holding out for that reward money.”

The others laughed and a smile fluttered over Cress’s lips, but when she opened her eyes, Thorne wasn’t laughing with the rest of them.

In fact, he looked suddenly uncomfortable, his shoulders tense. “Well, you know, some people might say that doing the right thing is a reward in itself.”

The cargo bay fell still. Cress blinked.

Uncertainty stretched between them.

With a nervous chuckle, Thorne added, “But those people die poor and destitute, so who cares what they think?” He brushed away his own words. “Come on, freeloaders. Let’s get to work.”