“Fine,” said Jacin, turning to Thorne. “You want to carry her first, or shall I?”
Thorne raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how heavy she is?”
Cinder kicked him.
He huffed. “Fine. You first.”
* * *
“Are we sure about this?” Cress whispered. She was crouched behind a trellis covered in ivy, along with Cinder, Thorne, and Jacin, watching as Iko lifted the shining gold door knocker for the third time.
“I told you, they aren’t home,” said Jacin, annoyed at the precaution of having Iko scout out the pillared mansion before they went in. “This family is popular at court. They’ll be staying at the palace all week.”
After a fourth knock bore no result, Iko turned to them and shrugged.
Cress wrapped an arm around Cinder’s waist—she was a good height to act as a crutch for her as they hobbled through the garden. Cinder’s dead metal foot dragged a groove into the pathway of tumbled blue glass.
“What if it’s locked?” asked Cress, glancing down the street, although they hadn’t seen a single person. Perhaps this entire neighborhood was made up of popular members of the court. Perhaps this whole city was off having a raucous celebration at the palace.
“Then I’ll pick it,” said Thorne.
The door wasn’t locked. They found themselves in a grandiose entryway with a curved staircase and a sea of gold and white tiles.
Thorne let out a low whistle. “This place is ripe for plundering.”
Iko responded, “Can I go plunder the master closet?”
Jacin found an enormous vase full of flowers and set it on the floor inside the front door, so anyone who opened it would knock it over and shatter the vase into a hundred tiny pieces. Fair warning that it was time for them to leave.
It didn’t take them long to find a kitchen that was bigger than Cress’s satellite. Cress and Iko maneuvered Cinder onto a stool and helped her prop up her leg while Jacin rummaged through the pantry, emerging with an assortment of nuts and fruits.
“What do you think is wrong with you?” Iko asked.
Cinder smacked her palm against the side of her head, like she hoped to jog something back into place. “It’s not a power issue,” she said. “My eyes are working, at least. It’s something in the connection between the brain-machine interface and my prostheses. It affected both my hand and leg at the same time, so it must be a primary connection. My control panel could have gotten waterlogged or something. Could be a few dead wires.” She sighed. “I guess I should feel lucky. If my power cell had died, I’d be dead with it.”
They mulled over this for a moment, picking at the food.
Thorne glanced back at the pantry. “Did you see any rice in there? Maybe we could fill Cinder’s head with it.”
Everyone stared at him.
“You know, to … absorb the moisture, or something. Isn’t that a thing?”
“We’re not pouring rice in my head.”
“But I’m pretty sure I remember someone putting a portscreen in a bag of rice once after they’d put it through a clothes washer and—”
“Thorne.”
“Just trying to be helpful.”
“What do you need to fix it?” asked Cress, then hunched down between her shoulders as all eyes turned toward her.
Cinder frowned, and Cress could see her working through different possibilities. Then she started to laugh, dragging her good hand through her tangled, still-damp hair. “A mechanic,” she said. “A really good one.”
Iko beamed. “That, we have. Plus, we’re in a mansion. They have tons of technology here. We just need to find you the parts and tools and you can talk me through fixing you. Right?”
Cinder pursed her lips. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and an unhealthy pallor to her skin. Cress had never seen her so worn down.
Iko cocked her head. She must have noticed it too, because she spent a moment studying Cinder, then everyone in their group. “You all look awful. Maybe you should rest for a while. I can keep watch.”
They mulled over the idea for a minute, before Thorne said, “That’s actually not a bad idea.”
Iko shrugged. “Someone has to stay clearheaded in an emergency situation.” Frowning, she added, “Although I never thought it would have to be me.”
Thorne turned to Cinder. “You’ll think more clearly after a nap.”
She ignored him, staring at the counter. There was a dejected slump to her shoulders, a hollowness in her gaze.
“I don’t think a nap is going to fix this,” she said, lifting her cyborg hand. It hung limply from her wrist, a hole where one finger had been removed. “I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t fight like this, or start a revolution, or be a queen. I can’t do anything like this. I’m broken. I’m literally broken.”
Iko settled a hand on Cinder’s shoulder. “Yeah, but broken isn’t the same as unfixable.”
Fifty-Five
“This was a bad decision,” said Scarlet.
Winter peered over at her. There was discomfort in Scarlet’s face, a deep-etched line between her eyebrows.
Reaching over, Winter tugged at one of Scarlet’s curls. “You have not turned back yet.”
Scarlet batted her away. “Yeah, because I no longer have any idea where we are.” Scarlet glanced over her shoulder. “We’ve been wandering around these caves for hours.”
Winter followed her look, but the cave was so dim they couldn’t see very far before it disappeared into shadows lit only by the occasional glowing orb on the ceiling. Winter couldn’t tell how far she and Scarlet had come through the underground lava tubes in search of the wolf soldiers—in search of an army—and she still didn’t know how much farther they would have to go. Whenever she thought of turning back, though, she would imagine she heard a faint howl in the distance, compelling her to go on. Her dream of Ryu and Levana clung to her thoughts like sticky pollen, inciting her resolve again and again.