Could Cinder swim?
Everyone had thought it, but no one had asked.
Together, the four of them had sneaked through the city, grateful that the few Lunars they saw were too busy celebrating the queen’s marriage to pay them any attention. Jacin had led the way, familiar with the city and the patterns of the lake, knowing where the bodies that fell into it from the throne room occasionally surfaced. There had been no hesitation between them—they all knew they had to find Cinder while Levana was reeling from the attack.
When they had caught sight of Cinder’s dark form among the waves, there was a resounding gasp of joy and relief from the whole group, but they still had no idea what state Cinder would be in.
Was she alive? Was she injured? Could she swim?
When the trio in the water was close enough, Cress let go of Iko and waded out to join them. Together they pulled Cinder’s body ashore, laying her down on the white sand.
“Is she alive?” Iko asked, half-hysterical. “Is she breathing?”
“Let’s get her to that boathouse,” Jacin said. “We can’t stay out here.”
Thorne, Jacin, and Iko shared the job of carrying Cinder’s limp body while Cress ran ahead to hold the doors. Three rowboats were stacked on brackets against the two sidewalls, with a fourth laid out in the middle and covered with a tarp. She cleared a mess of oars and fishing equipment from the tarp, making a space for them to lay out Cinder’s body, but Jacin laid her on the hard floor instead. Iko closed the doors, shrouding the room in darkness. Cress scrambled to switch on her portscreen for its ghostly blue light.
Jacin didn’t bother to check for breath or a pulse before he leaned over Cinder and locked his hands together on top of her chest. His eyes hardened as he started to pump down on her sternum with quick, forceful movements. Cress winced at the sound of popping cartilage.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” said Thorne, crouched on Cinder’s other side. He coughed and wiped his mouth with his arm. “Do you need help? We learned this in boot camp … I remember … sort of…”
“I know what I’m doing,” said Jacin.
And he did seem to know, as he tilted Cinder’s head back and formed a seal over her mouth with his own.
Thorne didn’t look comforted, but he didn’t argue.
Kneeling at Cinder’s feet, Cress watched in silence as Jacin started the compressions again. She remembered net dramas where the heroine was revived by the hero with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It had seemed so romantic. Cress had even had fantasies about drowning, dreams in which the press of a man’s lips could breathe life back into her lifeless form.
The dramas had lied. There was a violence to this they hadn’t shown. She grimaced as Jacin’s hands flattened against Cinder’s sternum for a third time, imagining she could feel the bruises on her own chest.
She felt suspended in time. Thorne took up sentinel by the doorway, peering out through a small, filthy window to keep watch. Iko wrapped her arms around her body and looked about ready to dissolve into impossible tears.
Cress was about to take Iko’s hand again when Cinder jerked. She started to gag.
Jacin eased her head over to the side and water burbled out of her mouth, though not as much as Cress expected. Jacin held Cinder in place, keeping her airway clear, until she had stopped hacking. She was breathing again. Weak and shaky, but breathing.
Cinder opened her eyes and Jacin eased her into a sitting position. Her right arm flopped. Her hand found Jacin’s arm and squeezed. She spat a few more times. “Good timing,” she croaked.
Water was glistening on her lips and chin until Iko reached forward and wiped it away with her sleeve. Cinder looked at her and her eyes lightened, though her eyelids still drooped with exhaustion.
“Iko? I thought…” With a groan, she fell onto her back.
Iko squealed and made to collapse onto Cinder, but reconsidered. Instead, she scurried around Jacin so she could lift Cinder’s shoulders and cradle her head in her lap. Smiling wearily, Cinder reached up to pet Iko’s braids. Her cyborg hand was missing one of its fingers.
“We can’t stay here,” said Jacin, rubbing water droplets from his cropped hair. “They’ll start the search closer to the palace, but it won’t be long before they barricade the whole lake. We need to find someplace for her to recover.”
“Any ideas?” asked Thorne. “We’re not exactly in friendly territory.”
“I need medical supplies,” said Cinder, her eyes shut. “A soldier bit me. Should clean the wound before it’s infected.” She sighed, too exhausted to go on.
“I wouldn’t mind a warm meal and a clothes dryer so long as we’re making demands,” said Thorne. Leaning forward, he stripped off his soaking wet shirt.
Cress’s eyes widened, glued to him as he wrung the lake out of the shirt, water splattering on the concrete.
Jacin said something, but she didn’t catch what.
Thorne pulled his shirt on again, a little more dry and wrinkled now, and Cress was able to breathe again.
“That might work,” said Thorne, nodding at Cinder. “Think you can make it?”
“No,” said Cinder. “I can’t walk.”
“It’s not far,” said Jacin. “I thought you were supposed to be tough.”
Cinder scowled up at him. “I can’t walk. The water did something to my interface.” She paused. Wheezed. “My leg and hand aren’t functioning. Lost net access too.”
Four pairs of eyes shifted to the glistening metal foot. Cress was not in the habit of thinking of Cinder as cyborg—as something other. As someone who could just … stop functioning.