Winter

Twenty-Six

For the first time since she had abandoned it, Cress found herself missing her satellite. Jacin’s private quarters were smaller than her satellite had been. The walls were so thin that she dared not even sing to pass the time. And when she needed to use the facilities, she had to wait for Jacin to get off his shift so he could sneak her in and out of the washroom that was shared between the guards and their families, all of whom lived in this underground wing of the palace. Once she crossed paths with another person, and while it was only a guard’s wife who smiled kindly at her without any sign of suspicion, the encounter left Cress shaken.

She sensed the queen and her court all around her. She was aware at every moment that one person recognizing her for a shell would mean death. Perhaps torture and interrogation first. She was sick with anxiety for her own safety and terrified for the fate of her friends. She was frustrated that Jacin never had any news about them.

She told herself this was a good sign. Jacin would know if they’d been found. Wouldn’t he?

Cress distracted herself doing what she could to help Cinder’s cause with the limited resources available to her in Jacin’s quarters. She still had her portscreen, and though she dared not send any comms, knowing how easily they could be traced, she was able to connect to the queen’s broadcasting system via the holograph node embedded in Jacin’s wall. The nodes were everywhere on Luna—as common as netscreens on Earth, and the feeds as easily hacked. She still had Cinder’s prerecorded video stored in her port but she was afraid to do anything with it without knowing whether Cinder and the others were ready. Instead she spent her time interrupting propaganda messages from the queen and trying to come up with some way she could indicate to her friends that she was alive and relatively safe. She could never think of anything that wasn’t either too obvious or too obscure though, and she was too timid to do anything that could alert the queen to her presence.

She wished again and again that she had access to the same technology she’d had in the satellite. She felt more cut off from the world than she ever had—with no media to view but that approved by the crown. No way to send a direct communication. No access to Luna’s surveillance network or security systems and, hence, no way to fulfill the duties Cinder had given her. As the hours merged into days, she grew more anxious and addled, itching to get out of this enclosed space and do something.

She was altering the soundtrack from a royal message about their “brave victories against the weak-minded Earthens,” when hard-soled footsteps in the hall made her pause.

They stopped outside Jacin’s door. Cress disconnected her portscreen, threw herself off Jacin’s cot, and scurried underneath it, pressing herself as close to the wall as possible. Outside, she heard the input of a code and fingerprint check on the lock. The door opened and shut.

She held her breath.

“Just me,” came Jacin’s voice, sounding as disillusioned as ever.

Exhaling, Cress crawled out from her hiding spot. She stayed on the floor, her back pressed against the cot’s side. The cot was the only place to sit in this tiny room and she felt guilty taking it from Jacin—although she couldn’t recall him ever sitting in her presence. He had even slept on the floor since her arrival, without any discussion of it.

“Any news?” she asked.

Jacin leaned against the door, his shadowed eyes caught on the ceiling. He seemed strangely disheveled. “No.”

Cress pulled her knees into her chest. “What’s wrong?”

Still entranced by the ceiling, he muttered, “You disabled the cameras in the dock.”

She blinked.

“Could you do it again? To any cameras in the palace?”

She reached for her hair. The habit of fidgeting with it was hard to break, though it had been short for weeks now. “If I had access to the system. Which I don’t.”

He opened his mouth, paused, shut it again.

Cress frowned. Jacin was rarely chatty, but this was unusual even for him.

Finally, he said, “I could get you access to the system.”

“Why are we disabling cameras?”

His chest rose and his focus traveled down the bare stone walls and landed on Cress. “You’re leaving. You, Winter, and that redhead girl are leaving the palace. Tonight.”

Cress hauled herself to her feet. “What?”

“Winter can’t stay here, and she won’t leave without that friend of hers. You help me get them out of here, and it’s your ticket too.” He started to massage his temple. “You know where Cinder was heading, right? You can find her. She’ll keep Winter safe. She better keep her safe.”

Suspicion crawled up her spine at the mention of Cinder. Was this a trick? Was he trying to get information from her to be sold to the queen for his own gains? He’d done it before.

“It will look suspicious if a bunch of camera feeds go down at once,” she said.

He nodded. “I know, but hopefully you’ll be gone before anyone notices.”

She gnawed on her lip. She could put them on a timer, try to make the blackouts seem like random power failures or a system glitch, but even that had the potential for being discovered.

Jacin had started to pace. She could see his thoughts churning. A plot was forming in his head, though she couldn’t begin to guess how he planned to sneak them out of the palace without anyone seeing them—especially when Princess Winter was so recognizable.

“What happened?” said Cress. “Did Levana find out about me?”

“No. It was something else.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose now. “She’s going to have Winter killed. I have to get her out of here. I think I know a way. I can set it up, but…” His eyes turned pleading. “Will you help me?”

Cress’s heart squeezed. In the little time she’d known Jacin, he had struck her as cold, heartless, even cruel at times. But now he was fringed at the edges, ready to tear apart.

“By disabling the cameras?” she asked.

He nodded.

She looked at her portscreen. Though she’d detached it from the holograph node when she scuttled beneath the cot, the connector cable was still dangling from its side. This was her chance. She could get away from the palace, away from this city and all its dangers. She could be with her friends again. She could be safe, tonight.

The temptation engulfed her. She had to get out of here.

But when she turned her face up toward Jacin again, she was shaking her head.

Bewilderment flashed across his face.

“It will be safest for the princess and Scarlet if”—she swallowed, but her saliva stuck in her throat—“if I stay behind.”

“What?”

“Our best chance for the tampering to go unnoticed will be if I operate the system failure manually. I can turn the cameras off for short bursts, make them look like random power outages. A full blackout would draw too much attention, and blacking out just a portion of them would give the queen a clue as to which way Winter and Scarlet went. But if I disable and restart random sections of the surveillance system at the same time … I can make it look like a coincidence.” She tapped a finger against her lower lip. “I could set up a distraction too. Maybe an alarm in another part of the palace, to draw people away from them. And all the door locks in the major thoroughfares can be altered remotely too.”

She was growing confident in her decision. She would stay behind to give Winter and Scarlet the best chance for escape.

“You’re insane,” said Jacin. “Do you want to die in this palace?”

She stiffened. “Levana doesn’t know I’m here. As long as you keep me hidden…”

“As soon as Levana learns I let Winter go, she’ll kill me.”

She clenched her fists, annoyed that he was punching holes in her newfound courage. “Scarlet was captured during an attempt to rescue me. And Winter protected me, even though she didn’t have to, and I know it put her in a lot of danger. This is how I can repay them both.”

Jacin stared and she could see the moment he accepted her decision. It was their best chance and he had to know it. He turned away, his shoulders starting to fall. “I was Sybil’s pilot for over a year,” he said. “I knew about you for over a year, and I did nothing to help you.”

His confession stabbed her in the chest. She’d always thought Sybil had come alone, never realizing she had a pilot with her until it was too late. Maybe Jacin could have helped her, even rescued her.

They would never know.

He didn’t apologize. Instead, he set his jaw and met her eye again. “I will protect Winter with my life. Second only to her, I promise to protect you too.”