By the time he was brushing feather-soft fingers along her neck, checking for any strands he’d missed, she was dizzy with euphoria.
He found a missed lock of hair by her left ear and cut it away. “I think that’s it.” He tucked the knife under his leg so he would know where to find it and buried his hands into the short, impossibly light hair, working out the remaining tangles. A satisfied grin stretched over his face. “Maybe a little jagged on the ends, but much better.”
Cress reached for the back of her neck, amazed at the sensation of bare skin, still damp from sweat, and short-cropped hair that had a subtle wave to it now that all the weight was gone. She scratched her fingernails along her scalp, riveted by the pleasure of such a foreign sensation. It felt as though twenty pounds had been cut from her head. Tightness was fading from muscles that she hadn’t even realized was there.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, brushing away the locks of hair that still clung to him.
“And I’m really sorry … about the blindness.”
“Not your fault.”
“It is kind of my fault. If I hadn’t asked you to come rescue me, and if I had—”
“It’s not your fault,” he said again, his tone cutting off her argument. “You sound like Cinder. She always blames herself for the stupidest things. The war is her fault. Scarlet’s grandmother is her fault. I bet she’d take responsibility for the plague too, if she could.”
Picking up the knife, he shimmied out from beneath the bed, pushing his arms out in a wide circle to nudge away any debris before pulling himself up onto the edge of the mattress. His progress was slow, like he didn’t trust himself to move more than a few inches at a time. Cress followed and stood up beside him, shuffling some of the debris around with her bare toes. One hand stayed buried in her hair.
“The point is, that witch tried to kill us, but we survived,” said Thorne. “And we’ll find a way to contact the Rampion, and they’ll come get us, and we’ll be fine.”
He said it like he was trying to convince himself, but Cress didn’t need any convincing. He was right. They were alive, and they were together, and they would be fine.
“I just need a moment to think,” said Thorne. “Figure out what we’re going to do.”
Cress nodded and rocked back on her heels. For a long time, Thorne seemed to be deep in thought, his hands clasped in his lap. After a minute, Cress realized they were shaking.
Finally, Thorne tilted his head toward her, though his unfocused eyes were on the wall. He took in a deep breath, let it out, then smiled.
“Let’s begin again, with some proper introductions. Did I hear your name was Crescent?”
“Just Cress, please.”
He extended a hand toward her. When she gave him hers, he tugged her closer, bent his head, and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. Cress stiffened and swooned, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her.
“Captain Carswell Thorne, at your service.”
Fourteen
Cinder followed the progression of the Rampion on her retina display, watching breathlessly as they entered Earth’s atmosphere over northern Africa and careened toward Farafrah, a small oasis that had once been a trading post for caravans traveling between the central African provinces and the Mediterranean Sea. It had fallen into poverty since the plague had first struck a decade ago, sending the trade caravans farther east.
She didn’t leave Wolf’s side. She dressed the wounds as well as she could using the bandages and ointments the guard had thrown down from the ship’s upper level. She had already had to change the bandages once, and still the blood soaked through. His face was pale and clammy, his heartbeat growing weaker, each breath a struggle.
Please, please, let Dr. Erland be there.
So far, the guard, at least, had proven trustworthy. He had flown straight and fast—very fast, to Cinder’s relief. It was a risk entering Earth’s orbit, but a necessary one. She only hoped this oasis would be the safe haven the doctor had believed it to be.
“Cinder,” said Iko, “the Lunar is asking where he should land.”
She shuddered. She’d been expecting the question. It would be safest, and most prudent, to land outside the town, out in the ruthless desert. But she could never carry Wolf and they didn’t have the luxury of being prudent.
“Tell him to land on the main road. On the map it looks like there’s only one—a town square of sorts. And tell him not to worry about being stealthy.”
If they couldn’t hide, then she would draw as much attention as possible. Maybe if they made enough of a spectacle it would draw Dr. Erland out from wherever he was hiding. She had to hope that any civilians would be so distracted by their brazenness, they wouldn’t bother alerting the police until it was too late.
It wasn’t a good plan, but there wasn’t time to come up with anything better.
The ship dove. Normally this was the quiet part of landing, when the engine power switched to magnetic levitation, but it seemed the guard was planning on doing this all manually.
Perhaps the town was so rural, they didn’t have magnetic roads at all.
Finally the ship clanked and groaned. Though it was a soft landing, the shock still made Cinder jump. Wolf groaned.
Cinder bent over him and cupped his face in both hands. “Wolf, I’m going to get help. Just stay with us, all right? Just hold on.”
Standing, she keyed in the code for the podship dock.
The dock was a sight—blood and destruction everywhere. But she walked past the remaining shuttle and tried to put it all from her thoughts. “Iko, open hatch.”
As soon as the doors had parted enough for her to fit through, she crouched on the ledge and jumped down into the street.
A cloud of dust whirled around her as her feet struck the hard, dry ground. The surrounding buildings were mostly single-story structures made of stone or clay or large beige bricks. Some window shutters had been painted blue or pink, and stenciled designs lined the entryways, but the colors had been bleached by the sun and chipped by relentless sand. The road dipped down toward an oasis lake a few blocks to Cinder’s right, both sides lined with thriving palm trees—trees that looked too alive for a town that hung with desertion. A few blocks to her left was a stone wall lined with more trees and, beyond it, reddish plateaus disappearing in a sandy haze.
People were emerging from the buildings and around street corners, civilians of all ages, mostly dressed in shorts and lightweight tops to combat the desert heat, though a few wore more concealing robes to keep off the blazing sun. Many were covering their mouths and noses. At first Cinder thought they were protecting themselves from the plague, but then she realized they were simply annoyed at how much dust the ship’s landing had kicked up. The cloud was already blowing off down one of the side streets.
Cinder scanned them, searching for a wrinkled face and a familiar gray cap. Dr. Erland would be paler than most of the townspeople, although skin tones ranged from the deepest browns to honeyed tans. Still, she suspected that a little old man with glaringly blue eyes would have drawn some attention in the past weeks.
She opened her hands wide to show she had no weapons and took a step toward the crowd. Her cyborg hand was on full display, and the townsfolk had noticed. They were staring at it openly, though no one shied away as she took another step closer.
“I’m sorry about the dust,” she said, gesturing to the cloud. “But this is an emergency. I need to find someone. A man. This tall, old, wears glasses and a hat. Have any of you—”
“I saw her first!” a girl squealed. She ran out from the crowd, her flip-flops smacking the dirt, and grasped Cinder’s arm. Startled, Cinder tried to pull away, but the girl held firm.
Then there were two boys, not older than nine or ten, emerging from the crowd and arguing over who had seen the ship drop out of the sky, who had seen it land, who had seen the docks open, and who had first spotted the cyborg.
“Step away from Miss Linh, you greedy little vultures.”
Cinder whirled around.
Dr. Erland was striding toward them, though she almost didn’t recognize him. Barefoot and hatless, he wore a pair of khaki shorts and a striped shirt that hung lopsided, as he’d missed a buttonhole and the rest of the buttons were all wrong. His gray hair stuck out along his bald spot like he’d recently been electrocuted.