“Alone?”
She nodded. “She wanted me to make sure you were all right.”
Heaving a frustrated breath, Kai nudged Iko and Kinney against the wall, clearing a path for those Lunars still waiting to descend.
“We’re moving everyone down to the spaceship ports. It will be the safest place while the fighting continues and keep any more puppets out of Levana’s hands.” He squeezed Iko’s hand, and her wiring buzzed with delight. “Do you think you’d be able to open the ports to let the ships out if I got you down there?”
Kinney answered before she could. “I know the access code.”
Iko turned to him.
“I’ve had pilot training,” he said, with a nonchalant shrug.
Kai gave him an appreciative nod, and if he was stunned that a royal guard was helping them, it didn’t show. “Then let’s finish this, and go find Cinder.”
Eighty-Six
Jacin was holding her hand, his fingers strong and tense, like he was afraid she would vanish if he loosened his grip. They emerged with the flood of people out of the maglev tunnels into Artemisia Central. Winter’s childhood home. Jacin’s too. She felt like a ghost. She felt like a conqueror.
It had taken hours for them to traverse Luna’s terrain, visiting dozens of the nearest sectors, spreading the word of Selene’s survival and the call to arms and asking the people to stand with them. It had taken less coercing than she’d expected. Already spurred on by the first video Cinder had broadcast and incensed by Levana’s attempt to have the princess murdered—again—the people were in a frenzy by the time Jacin and Winter arrived to tell them their news. Many were already on their way to the capital.
No sooner had she and Jacin broken onto the surface than the people took off sprinting toward the palace, roaring and gripping their weapons. Winter tried to keep pace with them, but Jacin’s grip tightened and pulled her to the side, keeping her sheltered from the teeming crowd.
The courtyard in front of the palace was already a graveyard, though there were still people struggling to go on fighting. A battalion of thaumaturges and countless wolf soldiers wasted no time launching themselves at the new arrivals, and those brave war cries from the front lines were quickly turned into screams. There were more coming still, pouring out of the tunnels and into the streets, and Winter recognized many of her own soldiers trying to rip the mutants away from their allies. Confusion reigned. Thaumaturge-controlled civilians turned into enemies, and it was sometimes impossible to tell which of the wolf soldiers were on their side.
Claws ripping open a person’s chest.
A bullet tearing through the side of a woman’s face.
A spear impaling a man’s abdomen.
Howls of pain and victory, indistinguishable. The tangy smell of blood. Still the people came and came and came. The people she had brought there.
Winter’s head rang with it all. Her feet were rooted to the ground. She was glad Jacin had stopped her.
“The palace will be soaked through with blood,” she whispered. “The waters of Artemisia Lake will run red, and even the Earthens will see it.”
Jacin’s eyes flashed with alarm. “Winter?”
She barely heard Jacin over the din inside her skull. Prying herself away from him, she stumbled forward and collapsed over the body of one of the wolf soldiers. There was a familiarity to the set of his jaw, the dead eyes staring upward.
Brushing a lock of bloodstained hair away from the man’s brow, Winter began to wail.
It was Alpha Strom.
And it was her fault, her fault he was here. She had asked him to fight for her and now he was dead and—
Jacin took her elbow. “Winter, what are you doing?”
She collapsed, sobbing over Strom’s body. “I’m dying,” she whimpered, digging her fingers into the filth-crusted fabric of Strom’s shirt.
Jacin cursed. “I knew this was a bad idea.” He tugged at her, but she ripped her arm away and scanned the raging battle around them.
“I am destroyed,” she said. Tears were on her cheeks, mixing with all the blood. “I do not know that even a sane person could recover from this. So how can I?”
“Precisely why we should leave. Come on.” This time he didn’t give her a choice, just hooked his hands under her arms and hauled her to her feet. Winter slid against him, allowing him to fit her to his body. A surprising cheer called her attention toward the palace and she saw the thaumaturges fleeing back inside. Many had fallen and were lying dead or dying on the palace stairs. They were overwhelmed. There were too many people now for the queen’s minions to hold their own, just as Cinder had hoped.
Armies were falling—on both sides.
So many deaths.
Spurred on by their victory, the people rushed the palace, streaming in through the enormous doors, chasing the thaumaturges.
Winter spotted a flash of vivid red hair and her heart leaped.
“Scarlet!” she screamed, struggling against Jacin, though he held her firm. “No, Scarlet! Don’t go in there! The walls are bleeding!” Her word turned into shudders, but it worked. Scarlet had frozen and turned. She searched the crowd for the source of her name.
Jacin dragged Winter beneath the overhang of a dress shop and pressed her into the alcove.
“It’s not safe!” Winter screamed, reaching past him for her friend, but she could no longer see Scarlet in the swarm. She met Jacin’s panicked eyes. “It isn’t safe in there. The walls … the blood. She’ll be hurt and she’ll die and they’re all going to die.”