Cress

On the other side of the glass, the doctor sobbed. He did not look up again, but he raised a shaking hand in farewell. The tips of his fingers were shriveled and blue.

Fifty-Four

They abandoned their entourage of guards in the elevator on the top floor. No one cared that it would be too easy to deduce where they were heading. Hopefully by the time anyone snapped out of Cinder’s brainwashing, they’d be long gone.

The research wing’s emergency service elevator was kept on its own, in an alcove tucked away from the rest of the wing. It was their final obstacle, and Cress had taken care to ensure it would be functioning properly when they arrived. She stumbled ahead of them to punch in the code, emotionally drained. It felt as if her brain were churning through sludge and it took her a moment to remember the code at all.

The elevator opened and they crowded inside.

No one spoke—whether out of respect for Dr. Erland, or out of a tenuous hope that they were so close, so very close …

The doors opened onto the rooftop. Dusk was climbing over the city, glistening off the palace windows and coating the landing pad in purple shadows.

And the Rampion was there, its ramp lowered toward them.

Cress laughed—an abrupt, delirious laugh that felt like it was being ripped out of her throat.

Iko let out a victorious whoop and ran for the ramp, screaming, “We did it!”

Thorne’s grip tightened on Cress’s arm. “He’s here?”

“He’s here,” she whispered back.

Wolf alone slowed down, baring his teeth. Kai was still draped over his shoulder.

“Jacin—ready for takeoff—now!” Cinder yelled toward the ship. “We’re—” Her words fell short and she slowed, then stopped altogether. Cress gasped and locked her hands around Thorne’s arm, holding him back.

A figure appeared at the top of the cargo bay ramp. Her white coat and long sleeves made her look like a ghost haunting their ship, blocking their way to freedom.

Cress’s instincts screamed at her to run, to hide, to get as far away from Mistress Sybil as she could.

But when she glanced behind her she saw that the thaumaturge wasn’t alone. Half a dozen Lunar guards had crowded in behind them, blocking off their path to the elevator. The elevator that wouldn’t have worked anyway—she’d programmed it to shut down once they reached the rooftop so that no one could follow them. It wouldn’t work again until the timer she’d set on the security mainframe ticked down and the system rebooted itself.

Which meant they had no place to run. No place to hide. They were forty steps from their ship, and they were trapped.

*   *   *

Cinder’s momentary elation evaporated as she looked up at the thaumaturge. She should have sensed her immediately, her and the guards, before she’d even stepped off the elevator, but she’d been so distracted with the sensation of success. She’d gotten cocky, and now they were surrounded.

“What a lovely reunion,” said Sybil, her sleeves snapping in the rooftop wind. “Had I known you were all going to come to me, I wouldn’t have wasted half as much energy attempting to find you.”

Cinder tried to keep her focus on Sybil as she took stock of her allies. Wolf was slightly in front of her, snarling as he set Kai on the ground. Though he wasn’t showing any pain, she could see a small spot of blood on Wolf’s dress shirt—his stitches must have come undone, reopening the wound.

Iko wasn’t far from him, the only one of them not panting.

Cress and Thorne were to Cinder’s left. Thorne had a cane and, she thought, he might still have his gun too. But he and Wolf could easily become liabilities, weapons to be toyed with by the thaumaturge, unlike Cress and Iko, who couldn’t be controlled.

“How many?” Thorne asked.

“Mistress Sybil in front of us,” said Cress, “and six Lunar guards behind.”

After the slightest hesitation, Thorne nodded. “I accept those odds.”

“So charming,” said Sybil, tilting her head. “My little protégé has been embraced by cyborgs and androids and criminals—the scum of Earthen society. Quite fitting for a useless shell.”

From the corner of her eye, Cinder noticed Thorne easing himself as a shield between Cress and the thaumaturge, but it was Cress who lifted her chin, with a look more confident than Cinder had ever seen on her.

“You mean the useless shell that just disconnected the link to all your palace surveillance equipment?”

Sybil clicked her tongue. “Arrogance doesn’t suit you, dear. What do I care if the connection has been severed? Soon this palace will be the home of Queen Levana.” She nodded. “Guards, leave His Majesty and the special operative unharmed. Kill the rest.”

Cinder heard the thunk of boots, the rustle of uniforms, the click of guns being released from their holsters.

She opened her thoughts to them.

Six Lunar men. Six royal guards who, just like Jacin, had been trained to keep their minds open. Trained to be puppets.