Winter

Ninety-Six

Winter picked up a stick from the ground and tossed it toward the protective fence around the enclosure, but the ghost Ryu just tilted his head to one side.

Sighing, she dropped her hands into her lap.

Her fits still came and went, but she’d been deemed lucid enough that the doctors allowed her to make the decision: Would she rather remain in the med-clinic, where she could be restrained when her outbursts came, or would she rather be outfitted with shock bracelets that could incapacitate her when needed? She had chosen this imaginary freedom, thinking of Ryu and how his own collar would never let him leave the enclosure that must have seemed very escapable at first.

Jacin hated the idea. He had argued that her mind was fragile enough without fearing random shocks. But Winter had needed to get out of the clinic. She had needed to get away from the nightmares that haunted her.

She came to the menagerie often since her release, finding it one of the few serene places in a city that was fluttering with talk of reconstruction and political change. This was all very important, of course. She had always wanted her country to be a place where the people could speak their mind and be treated fairly, where people were given choices over the life they wanted to live. But the talk of it made her head hurt. When the world started to spin out of control she found it best to remove herself to somewhere peaceful and solitary, where she couldn’t hurt anyone but herself.

The delusions were no longer constant like they had been in the days following the battle, although her mind still tricked her into seeing her stepmother’s shadow in the palace, waiting with a sharpened knife and cruelly kind words. Or the flash of Aimery’s eyes following her down the corridors. Too often she smelled the blood dripping down the walls.

The first time she’d come to the menagerie, Ryu’s ghost had been waiting for her.

In the uncertainty of the revolution, the gamekeepers had run away, and had yet to be found. The animals had been hungry and restless, and Winter had spent the whole day hunting down the storage rooms where the food was kept, cleaning out the cages, and turning the menagerie back into the sanctuary she’d always known it to be. When Jacin had come looking for her, he conscripted servants to help too.

Staying busy helped. It was not a cure, but it helped. As far as anyone cared, she was the gamekeeper now, though everyone still called her Princess and pretended she didn’t smell like manure.

Ryu laid his head in Winter’s lap and she stroked him between the ears, this sad ghost who wouldn’t play fetch anymore.

“Princess.”

Ryu evaporated. Jacin was leaning against the enclosure wall, not far from where he’d faked her murder. Where she’d kissed him and he’d kissed her back.

With that memory, Winter was submerged. In water and ice, in hot and cold. She shivered.

Jacin’s brow twitched with concern, but she stuffed the memory down. Not a hallucination. Just a normal fantasy, like a normal girl might have when she had a normal crush on her best friend.

“You don’t have to call me that, you know,” she said, brushing her hair back from her shoulders. “There was a time when you called me Winter.”

He leaned his elbows on the enclosure wall. “There was also a time when I could come visit you without feeling like I was supposed to toss bread crumbs to earn your favor.”

“Bread crumbs? Do I look like a goose?”

He tilted his head to the side. “You don’t look like an arctic wolf, either, but that’s what the plaque tells me I’m looking at.”

Winter leaned back on her hands. “I will not play fetch,” she said, “but I might howl if you ask nicely.”

He grinned. “I’ve heard your howl. It’s not very wolf-like, either.”

“I’ve been practicing.”

“You won’t bite me if I come in there, will you?”

“I make no guarantees.”

Jacin hopped over the rail and came to sit beside her. She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look like an arctic wolf, either.”

“I also don’t howl.” He considered. “Though I might play fetch, depending on the prize.”

“The prize is another game of fetch.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

Her lips curled upward, but when it seemed like Jacin was going to return the smile, he looked away. “You and I have had a request from Cin—Selene. Now that the treaty’s signed, she wants to start discussing trade agreements between Luna and Earth. Along with open communication, travel, access to Earthen media, stuff like that.”

Ryu bumped his head between Winter’s shoulder blades. Pulling back her arm, she tried to scratch under his ear, but as soon as she touched him, he faded away.

Jacin was watching her. “The wolf again?”

“Don’t worry. He’s forgiven you.”

He frowned.

“What can we do to help Selene with her politics?”

“Well, given that you’re so regrettably charming, and you did such a great job getting the wolf soldiers to join us, and everyone likes you so much…”

“So many compliments in a row? I feel like I must be walking into a trap.”

“Exactly. Cinder thinks you might make a good ambassador. Her first ambassador.”

She cocked her head to the side. “What would I have to do?”

“I’m not sure. Go to Earth. Have dinner with fancy people. Show them we Lunars aren’t all monsters.”

She grinned, feeling wolfish.

“I told her I would ask,” Jacin added, “but you’re not obligated to say yes. You need to take care of yourself first.”

“Would you be with me?”

“Of course.” He crossed one ankle over the other. “But you could say no, and I’ll be with you then too. I’m done serving everyone else.” He leaned back onto his elbows. “Who knows. Maybe someday I’ll take up studying to be a doctor again. But until then, I’m your guard, to do with as you will.”

“So it will be like playing the Princess and the Guard,” she said—a game they’d played when they were kids. She’d act out a much bossier version of herself, while Jacin would model himself after their fathers, all stoic and serious and scrambling to do her bidding. When Winter ran out of commands to give him, they would pretend there were murderers and kidnappers coming for the princess and he would protect her from them.

Jacin grinned. “Hopefully with fewer kidnappings.”

She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “If Cinder wishes it, I would be honored to charm the people of Earth.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.” Lying all the way back, he rubbed a hand over his forehead.

Ryu howled, crying his soul up to the menagerie’s vine-covered glass ceiling. He was not usually so restless. Maybe it was Jacin’s presence. Maybe Ryu was trying to speak to her.

Maybe this was her own insanity, signifying nothing.

Winter started to speak, but hesitated. She looked down at Jacin, but he had his hand covering his eyes. She wondered if he’d been sleeping much lately.

“Dr. Nandez says she may have a prototype of Cinder’s device ready within the next week.”

Jacin’s hand lifted. “Already?”

“She doesn’t know yet if it will work. She needs a test subject first.”

“Princess—”

“I’ve already volunteered. You can try to talk me out of it, but I’m fully prepared to ignore you.”

Jaw tensing, Jacin sat up again. “The test subject? We don’t know what the side effects will be. We don’t know if it will even work. Let someone else try it first.”

“I want to do it. I am one of the most severe cases of Lunar sickness to date.” She lost her fingers in the wolf’s fur. “But it’s occurred to me that, if it works, I won’t see Ryu again.” She smiled sadly. “And what if … what if people don’t like me anymore?”

Jacin shook his head. “They don’t like you because you’re crazy. They like you because…”

She waited.

“Because you were good to them when no one else was. Because you care. This device won’t change who you are.”

“You want me to be fixed, don’t you?”

Jacin drew back, as if she’d thrown something at him. “You’re not broken.”

Her vision began to blur. “Yes, Jacin. I am.”

“No, you’re—” He growled, a throaty, frustrated sound that made her feel giddy. “Look, I would love to not have to worry about you anymore. That you’ll hurt yourself or that someone will take advantage of you. But you’re not—you’re—”

“I’m delusional, and crazy, and damaged. I’ve known it a long time, we both have. Scarlet tells me all the time.”

“You’re perfect,” he said, finishing his thought as if she hadn’t interrupted. “I don’t care if you see dead wolves and turn into a living ice sculpture when you’re having a bad day. I don’t care if I have an imprint of your teeth on my shoulder. I don’t care if you’re … fixed.” He spat the word like it tasted bad. “I want you to be safe and happy. That’s all.”

Winter fluttered her lashes at him, and he turned away. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I want to be the test subject.” She reached for his hand. “I’ll be safe and happy when I’m no longer afraid of my own mind.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Jacin nodded. Slowly. “I just don’t like the idea of you going first,” he grumbled.

“Jacin?”

He met her gaze again.

Winter scooted closer and linked her arm with his. “You think I’m perfect?”

He didn’t look away. Didn’t look bashful or even nervous. Just stared at her, like she’d asked him if Luna orbited the Earth.

Then he leaned over and brushed a kiss against her forehead. “Just sort of,” he said. “You know. On a good day.”