Winter

Ninety-Five

The nurse kept apologizing as she escorted Cress from the med-clinic to the palace. Far from being fully healed, Cress had to be transported on a maglev chair, which was the oddest floating contraption she’d ever seen. Not quite a gurney, but not a wheelchair, either. For the moment in which Cress let her imagination carry her away, she’d been an exotic first-era princess being carried around on a lavish throne on the shoulders of very strong men.

Then the nurse had launched into her apologies again, destroying the daydream. The clinic was so overcrowded, she explained, the doctors spread so thin, and now that Cress was out of critical status …

Cress didn’t mind the change. She was glad to be out of the sterile clinic.

Though Cress had only been brought out of suspended animation four hours ago, she’d already seen Iko, Scarlet, Wolf, and even a weary Jacin, who told her of their victory and how Cinder had signed the Treaty of Bremen and how the shells had been awakened and how researchers were figuring out the best way to get them adjusted to life on Luna while also meeting Earth’s antidote needs. It left Cress’s head spinning.

At the top of her thoughts, however—always, always—was Thorne.

He hadn’t been there.

No one had even mentioned his name, and Cress had felt like they were all holding their breath. Wanting to say something, but waiting, uncertain.

She’d shot off two of his fingers. It may have been a minor injury compared with what she and Cinder had suffered, but still—she had done it. Of her own will and volition.

The nurse guided her into a familiar guest wing. This was where she had run into Kai.

“Here we are,” said the nurse, opening a door. “If you need anything at all—”

“I’m fine.” Cress used the controls on the chair’s arm to guide it into the room. A canopied bed was covered in shining silks, the stone floors were polished to a glossy finish. The window looked out on some of the palace’s flowering gardens, full of gazebos and statues. “Thank you.”

“We’ve taken care to make sure you’re close to your friends,” said the woman. “Mr. Kesley and Miss Benoit are two doors down on the left, and Emperor Kaito is around the corner. Mr. Thorne is staying across the hall.”

Cress spun her chair around. Her door was still open and she could see Thorne’s closed door from where she sat. “He is?”

“Would you like me to see if he’s in?”

Cress flushed. “Oh. No, that’s all right. Thank you.”

“Then I should be getting back to the clinic. Would you like to be helped into bed before I go?”

“No, I think I’m going to sit and enjoy the view for a while. Thank you.”

The nurse left, shutting the door behind her.

Cress took in a deep breath. The fine guest quarters smelled of lemon cleaner and a bouquet of white lilacs that sat on a desk. They were already wilting, though, and Cress wondered how long they’d been there. Perhaps this room had been set up for someone else, perhaps one of the Earthen diplomats who had already gone home.

Mr. Thorne is staying across the hall.

She stared at the door, willing him to appear.

Her stomach was throbbing where Thorne had stabbed her, when he’d been under Levana’s control. She pressed her fingers against the bandages over her stitches, trying to ease the ache. She wondered if she should have asked the nurse to leave her some pain medicine.

She took in a deep breath, feeling the sting in her ribs as her lungs pressed against them. She would be brave. She would be heroic. She would make her own destiny.

She urged her floating chair to the door and yanked it open.

Thorne stood in the hallway.

He jumped, clasping his hands behind his back, a rigidly formal stance. He was clean-shaven with his hair neatly combed, and he was wearing brand-new clothes: a blue collared shirt rolled to the elbows and khaki pants tucked into brown boots.

Cress squeezed herself against the back of the chair, feeling inadequate. Though she’d showered away the suspension tank’s goop, she still wore the paper-thin gown from the clinic and hadn’t even had a chance to comb her hair.

“Captain,” she breathed.

“Sorry,” he said, clicking his heels. “Were you leaving?”

“No. I … I thought I’d come see you.”

Thorne looked caught off guard, but then an edge of relief turned up one side of his mouth. He leaned down and placed his hands on her armrests. His right hand was cocooned in a cast. “You’re supposed to be resting,” he said, pushing her backward and shutting the door with his foot. He took her back to the window, then glanced around. “What can I get you? A portscreen? A masseuse? Whiskey on the rocks?”

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Even knowing he was alive, she hadn’t completely believed it until then. “You look…” She couldn’t finish. Her eyes started to water.

A grin in expectation of a compliment quickly turned to panic. “Oh, hey, what are you doing that for?” He crouched in front of her. “I don’t think crying will feel very good in your condition.”

She bit her lip, hard. He was right. Already her warbling breaths were making her abdomen throb. She forced the tears to subside.

Thorne took her hands, snaking his cast beneath her fingers. His skin looked tan and rugged against hers.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted to be there when they brought you out of the tank, but I was in a meeting when Scarlet commed to tell me, and I couldn’t leave, and I thought … I didn’t know…” He exhaled, a frustrated set to his mouth.

“A meeting?” Cress said, not sure if this explanation made her feel better or worse.

His expression brightened. “You’ll never believe this. President Vargas himself wanted to meet me. The actual president of the American Republic. Guess what he said.”

She considered. “He’s giving you a medal of honor for your bravery?”

“Close enough.” Thorne’s blue eyes gleamed. “He’s giving me the Rampion.”

Her eyes widened.

Launching to his feet, Thorne started to pace. “Well, I mean, he’s leasing me the Rampion, but I can start making payments to purchase it from the military. Cinder asked him to pardon me if I promised not to steal anymore, yadda yadda, and she recommended me and my crew to head the efforts of distributing the letumosis antidote. But I need a ship to do it, which is why President Vargas made the deal. You should have seen how unhappy he looked about it. I don’t think he’s my biggest fan, but—he still did it.”

Cress clapped. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Can you imagine, me, in a legitimate job?”

“And a job that’s helping people.” She beamed. “I can imagine it very easily.”

“I’m sure you’re the only one.” He stopped pacing long enough to grin at her.

Warmth flooded her face, and she looked down, noticing his cast again. He would have to retrain himself how to fly with his injuries. “I’m—I’m sorry about your hand,” she stammered.

“Don’t,” he said quickly, as if he’d been expecting this apology. “Scarlet and I are going to start a missing-fingers club. We might let Cinder be an honorary member.” Sinking onto the edge of the bed, he stared at his cast, twisting it in the light. “Plus, I’m thinking of getting some cyborg replacements. You know how Cinder’s hand does all sorts of tricks? I thought it might be nice to always have a toothpick handy. Or maybe a comb.” He sounded distracted, like his words and thoughts weren’t lining up with each other. When he dared to look up again, there was anxiety behind his eyes. “I’m sorry too, Cress. I … I nearly killed you and—”

“Levana almost killed me.”

His jaw flexed. “I was the one holding the knife. I felt it. I felt it happening, and there was nothing I could do…”

“There was nothing you could do,” she agreed.

Settling his elbows on his knees, he leaned over, his head hanging between his shoulders. “No. I know.” He dragged his good hand through his hair. “I know, logically, that it was her, not me. But … Cress.” He sighed. “I will have nightmares about that moment for the rest of my life.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Cress, that’s not…” Massaging the back of his neck, he peered up at her, but the look was so intense she had trouble holding it. Her blush deepened. “I…” He planted his hands on his knees, bracing himself. “Will you stay on my crew?”

Her thoughts scattered. “Your … crew?”

“I know.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve spent your entire life in space, removed from civilization. I understand if you say no. If you want to stay here on Luna, or even … even if you want me to take you to Earth. I’m sure you could stay with Kai for a while, who, you know, lives in a palace.” Thorne’s expression darkened. “Which is probably really tempting compared with the cargo ship I’m offering.”

He started to pace again. “But Wolf and Scarlet are staying on—just temporarily, until the disease is under control. And I had an idea. This assignment will take us all over the Republic. Not that we’ll be doing much sightseeing, but there’ll be … um. Forests. And mountains. And all sorts of things. And when we’re done, if there’s anywhere you want to go back to, we could do that. And stay for a while. Or I could take you … anywhere. Anywhere you want to see.”

His pacing was making her dizzy. “You’re offering me a … job.”

“Ye—no.” He hesitated. “I mean, sort of. You know, this went a lot smoother when I practiced last night.”

She shut one eye, squinting. “Captain, I’m still on a lot of medication, and I’m not sure I’m following you.”

He took in the hospital gown and hovering chair as if he’d forgotten about them. “Spades, I am bad at this, aren’t I? Do you want to lie down? You should lie down.”

Without waiting for a response, he swept an arm beneath her knees and lifted her out of the chair, gentle, as if he were picking up a priceless dream doll. She buried a hiss of pain in her throat as he carried her to the bed.

“Better?” he said, easing her on top of the covers.

“Better,” she admitted.

But he didn’t let go, and he was awfully close when she met his eyes. “Cress, look. I’m obviously no good at this. At least not when it’s … when it’s you.” He seemed frustrated. His fingers curled, gathering up the flimsy material of the hospital gown. “But I am good at this.”

He leaned closer and his lips found hers, pressing her into the soft pillows. She gasped and dug her fingers into his shirt, afraid he would pull away before she could memorize this moment. But he didn’t pull away, and Cress gradually dared to kiss him back. The mattress shifted—Thorne bringing a knee up to keep from crushing her. His cast brushed her hip, clumsy at first, but less so when he raised it to the side of her face to trace his bare thumb against her jaw. And his lips followed. To her chin. Her neck. The dip of her clavicle.

Her body became liquid, and she thought, if they could bottle him, he would make the best pain medication.

Thorne stopped kissing her, but she could still feel the brush of his hair against her jaw, the warmth of his breath on her shoulder.

“Twenty-three,” he said.

“Mm?” She opened her dazed eyes. Thorne pulled back, looking guilty and worried, which made some of her euphoria fade away.

“You once asked me how many times I’d told a girl I loved her. I’ve been trying to remember them all, and I’m pretty sure the answer is twenty-three.”

She blinked, a slow, fluttering stare. Her lips pursed in a question that took a while to form. “Including the Lunar girl who kissed you?”

His brow furrowed. “Are we counting her?”

“You said it, didn’t you?”

His gaze darted to the side. “Twenty-four.”

Cress gaped. Twenty-four girls. She didn’t even know twenty-four people.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I need you to know I never meant it. I said it because I thought that’s what you’re supposed to say, but it didn’t mean anything. And it’s different with you. This is the first time I’ve been scared. Scared you’ll change your mind. Scared I’ll screw it up. Aces, Cress, I’m terrified of you.”

Her stomach fluttered. He didn’t look terrified.

“Here’s the thing.” Thorne crawled over her legs and lay down beside her, boots and all. “You deserve better than some thief who’s going to end up in jail again. Everyone knows it. Even I know it. But you seem determined to believe I’m actually a decent guy who’s halfway worthy of you. So, what scares me most”—he twisted a lock of her hair between his fingers—“is that someday even you will realize that you can do better.”

“Thorne…”

“Not to worry.” He kissed the lock of hair. “I am a criminal mastermind, and I have a plan.” Clearing his throat, he started to check things off in the air. “First, get a legitimate job—check. Legally buy my ship—in progress. Prove that I’m hero material by helping Cinder save the world—oh, wait, I did that already.” He winked. “Oh, and I have to stop stealing things, but that’s probably a given. So I figure, by the time you realize how much I don’t deserve you … I might kind of deserve you.” His grin turned smug. “And that’s how that speech was supposed to go.”

“That was a good speech,” she said.

“I know.” Scooting closer, he kissed her shoulder. Goose bumps erupted down her arm.

“Captain?”

“Cress.”

She couldn’t not say it, although she realized he was right. It was sort of scary. Much scarier than it had been the first time she’d told him, out in the desert. It was different now. It was real. “I’m in love with you.”

He chuckled. “I should hope so, after all that.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her temple. “And I love you too.”