“Hearty good, thank you,” he said, gripping his side.
Bracing herself, Cinder started to climb. The stairs wrapped upward, the lights from below fading into shadows and, eventually, so much darkness that she turned on her flashlight again. The wall was smooth and undecorated but for a metal handrail. Cinder estimated that she’d trekked up three stories’ worth of steps before she came to a door. It was big enough for four people to walk through side by side, made of thick, reinforced steel. As expected, there were no hinges and no handle on this side—a fail-safe in case anyone discovered the entrance into the safety tunnel and tried to sneak into the palace.
This door was only meant to be opened from the inside.
Gripping the handrail, Cinder raised her other fist and tapped out a melody.
Then she waited, wondering if she’d been loud enough, wondering if they were too soon, wondering if they were too late and the plan had already fallen apart.
But then she heard a noise. A thunking deadbolt, a grinding lock mechanism, the squeak of unused hinges.
Iko stood before her, beaming and holding a pile of neatly folded clothes. “Welcome to New Beijing Palace.”
* * *
Though he didn’t want to admit it out loud, Thorne was sad to be splitting up from Cinder and going forth with only the grumpy, wheezing doctor to act as his guide. So far, he hadn’t sensed a whole lot of warmth coming off the old man, who didn’t seem to think that fixing Thorne’s blindness was a big priority, not to mention the crazy babble he’d been spouting down in the tunnels. Nevertheless, here they were. In the palace. Heading toward the labs where they would find the equipment necessary to do all that weird pseudo-science optical-repair stuff the doctor had talked about.
Alone.
Just the two of them.
“This way,” said the doctor, and Thorne adjusted his direction, keeping one hand on the wall. He missed the cane, but he could hear it clacking up ahead of him, and the doctor seemed to need it more.
Thorne really, really hoped the doctor wasn’t about to keel over. That would ruin oh so many things about this day.
“See anybody?” Thorne asked.
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”
Thorne scowled, but kept his mouth shut. It was as they’d hoped. No one would expect a palace break-in from the top-secret escape tunnels, so while all the guard power was being kept at the palace gates and around the ballroom, he and the doctor should have the lab wing all to themselves.
At least, until it was time to draw some attention away from Cinder and Cress.
The surface of the wall changed beneath his fingers, from a warm, papery texture, to something cool and smooth. He heard a door open.
“Here,” said the doctor. “More stairs.”
“Why not take the elevator?”
“It’s android operated. Would require an authorized ID chip.”
Thorne gripped the handrail and followed the doctor up, and up. The doctor had to stop twice to catch his breath, and Thorne waited, trying to be patient, all the while wondering what Cress was doing. If she would be ready when the time came.
He didn’t dwell on it. She was with Wolf. She would be fine.
Finally, the doctor pushed open another door. A short distance across hard, slick floors. The new hum of lights overhead.
“Cozy Lab 6D. This is where I met the princess, you know.”
“Lab 6D. Right. I’ve had good success meeting princesses in research labs myself.” His nose wrinkled. The room smelled of hospitals, sterile and cold and medicinal.
“There’s a lab table about four steps ahead of you. Lie down.”
“Really? You don’t want to take a break, catch your breath…?”
“We don’t have time.”
Gulping, Thorne inched forward until his hand smacked a padded table. He sought out the edge before lifting himself onto it. Tissue paper crinkled beneath him. “But isn’t this the part where you shove sharp objects into my pelvic bone? Maybe we don’t want to rush.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes. Terribly so, yes.”
The doctor snorted. “Just like you. To finally show a bit of humanity beneath the arrogance, and of course it’s only a concern for yourself. I’m hardly surprised.”
“Wouldn’t you be a little concerned in this situation? My eyesight. My pelvis.”
“My country. My princess. My daughter.”
“What daughter? What are you even talking about?”
The doctor harrumphed and Thorne could hear him banging through drawers. “I suppose your eyesight was lost while attempting to rescue Crescent from that satellite. For that alone, I suppose I do owe you.”
Thorne scratched his cheek. “I suppose you do?”
“Did she tell you, by chance, how long she’d been imprisoned?”
“Cress? Seven years, in the satellite.”
“Seven years!”
“Yeah. Before that I guess she was kept with a bunch of other shells in some volcanic dormitories or something. I don’t remember. That thaumaturge had been collecting blood samples from them, but Cress didn’t seem to know why.”
A cabinet door slammed shut, followed by silence.
“Doctor?”
“Collecting blood samples? From shells?”
“Weird, right? But at least she wasn’t subjected to any bizarre genetic tampering like Wolf.” Thorne shook his head. “I’m not sure about those Lunar scientists. They seem to be doing a lot of crazy stuff up there.”
Another silence, before more rustling. Thorne heard a chair or a table being wheeled toward him.
“They must have been using shell blood to develop the antidote,” the doctor mused. “But the timing doesn’t make sense. She was taken before letumosis even broke out, here on Earth. Before it was known to exist.”
Thorne tilted his ear toward the doctor as his rambling faded off. “What now?”
“Unless … Unless.”
“Unless … what now?”
“Oh, stars. That’s why they wanted them. The poor children. My poor, sweet Crescent Moon…”
Thorne settled his chin on his palm. “Never mind. You finish your nonsensical ramblings and let me know when you’re ready to proceed.”
Another rumble of wheels on the hard floor. “You do not deserve her, you know,” the doctor said, with a new edge to his tone.
“I’m sure I—wait, what?”
“I hope she comes to her senses soon, because I see how she looks at you and I do not care for it, not one bit.”
“Who are we talking about?”
Something clattered as the doctor dropped what Thorne assumed were medical tools onto a metal tray. “It doesn’t matter now. Lie down.”
“Pause one second. And be honest.” Thorne held up a finger. “Are you having a mental breakdown right now?”
The doctor huffed. “Carswell Thorne. I may have just made a very important discovery that must be shared with Emperor Kaito and the other Earthen leaders immediately. But that cannot happen until we have finished with this whole charade. Now, by my estimation, we have fewer than five minutes to extract the needed stem cells and divide them for the regenerating solution. I may not like you, but I am aware that we are on the same side, and we are both invested in seeing Cress and Cinder leave this palace today, alive. Now, are you going to trust me or not?”
Thorne considered the question for probably longer than the doctor wanted him to, before he sighed and lay back on the table. “Ready when you are. But first, don’t forget to—”
“I haven’t forgotten. Activating letumosis outbreak alarm—now.”
Thorne heard the soft pad of fingertips on a netscreen, and then a blaring siren screamed through the halls.
Forty-Nine
Cress was getting antsy. The royal nuptials were slated to begin in a mere twenty-seven minutes, and as far as she could tell, all guards and security personnel were still very much at their stations. On top of that, she and Wolf were running out of ways to make themselves inconspicuous without having to relocate to their seats. So far they’d each nibbled at the prawn hors d’oeuvres being waiter-passed (Cress: one, Wolf: six), taken turns excusing themselves to pretend to use the washroom while really trying to discern if any of the guards appeared concerned about a potential security breach, and three times Cress had had to laugh dreamily and hold Wolf’s hand in order to get some loitering female admirer to mosey on. It was the most impressive acting she’d ever done, because touching Wolf made her uneasy and it was difficult to imagine him making any jokes.