Licking some jam from her fingertips, Cinder grinned. “That’s not programming, you wing nut. That’s friendship.”
Iko’s eyes brightened. “Maybe you’re right.”
“About time you woke up, lazy.” Cinder glanced over her shoulder to see Thorne in the doorway. Cress and Jacin filed in behind him. “How’s the hand?”
“Almost fully functional.”
“Of course it’s almost fully functional,” said Iko. “Cress and I are geniuses.” She flashed Cress a thumbs-up.
“I helped,” said Thorne.
“He held the lamp,” Iko clarified.
“Jacin did nothing,” said Thorne, pointing.
“Jacin checked your pulse and breathing and made sure you weren’t dead,” said Iko.
Thorne snorted. “I could have done that.”
“Why did I pass out?” Cinder interrupted.
Crouching beside the couch, Jacin felt for the pulse in Cinder’s wrist. After a short silence, he let it drop down again. “Stress, probably, along with your physical reaction to having the portscreen connected to your”—he gestured to her general head area—“computer thing.”
“And you call me squeamish,” said Thorne.
Cinder squinted. “I passed out from stress? That’s it?”
“I believe the princess term is fainted,” said Thorne.
Cinder smacked him.
“With everything you’ve been through,” said Jacin, “it’s amazing you haven’t had a meltdown. Next time you feel light-headed or are having trouble breathing, tell me before you pass out.”
“The good thing,” said Iko, “is that with you unconscious, Cress and I were able to run your full diagnostics. Two fixed connections, a new data cable, some reinstalled software, and good as new! Well, except—”
“My hand tools, I know.” Cinder smiled. “But that’s fine. I went five years without a built-in flashlight, I’ll survive now.”
“Yeah, that, but I think there might be some problems with your interface too. The diagnostics showed a few errors with net connectivity and data transfer.”
Cinder’s smile faded. She’d been dependent on her cyborg brain ever since she could remember, relying on her ability to download information, send comms, monitor newsfeeds. It was an uncomfortable feeling to be without it, like part of her brain had been erased.
“I’ll just have to make do,” she said. “I’m alive, and I have two working hands and two working feet. I’ve been in worse shape before.” She glanced from Iko to Cress. “Thank you.”
Cress ducked her head, while Iko tossed her braids over one shoulder. “Oh, you know. I used to apprentice for this brilliant mechanic in New Beijing. She may have taught me a thing or two.”
Cinder laughed.
“Speaking of brilliant mechanics,” Iko said, “do you think you have time to look at my arm now?”
Sixty-Two
Winter sat on a rough-hewn bench, watching the last chips of ice thaw around her feet. She plunked her toes against the shallow puddle that had formed, amazed at how everything about it could be so real—the crackling, the cold—even when she knew it wasn’t.
Sighing, she raised her head, weary as she was, to watch the haphazard training sessions happening all down the dusty street. Maneuvers and tactics, a hundred trained soldiers doing their best to build an army. She scanned the crowd for Scarlet’s flaming hair, not sure where her friend had gone off to.
Instead of seeing Scarlet, her gaze caught on something else entirely. A head of pale hair near the back of the crowd.
Her heart lurched.
Inhaling a shaky breath, she pulled herself from the bench, but he was already gone.
Her gaze darted over all the faces, searching. Hoping.
She clenched her fists at her sides, willing away the sudden rush of euphoria. It was her desperation causing her to see phantoms. She missed him so much. She still didn’t know if he was even alive. She supposed it was to be expected that she would see his face in every crowd, around every corner.
There—she saw it again. Sunshine-bright hair tucked back behind his ears. Broad shoulders disguised in the clothes of the sector laborers. Blue eyes that pinned her to the ground even as her entire body tingled. Air flooded her lungs. He was alive. He was alive.
But Jacin raised a finger to his lips, halting her before she could run to him. Ducking his head in an effort to minimize his height, he skirted around a group of laborers and slinked toward the forest. He glanced back once and, with a subtle jerk of his head, disappeared into the shadows.
Palms damp, Winter looked around for Scarlet, but she was nowhere to be seen. No one was watching her. She slipped away, newly energized, and traipsed in between the slender tree trunks.
She would circle around through the woods and meet Jacin halfway. She would throw herself into his arms and she didn’t care if he thought it was appropriate or not.
Up ahead she could hear the bubble of the central fountain.
“Princess.”
Winter startled. In her haste, she’d walked right past the old woman without even seeing her. Though she was an ancient creature with a crooked back, she had a liveliness to her expression. She was holding a basket filled with twigs and bark gathered from the forest floor.
“Yes, hello,” Winter said in a rush, dipping into a quick curtsy. Her gaze was already traveling on, searching for blond hair and a teasing smile. She saw nothing. The trees were hiding him from her.
“You’re looking for a handsome young man, I believe.” The woman’s wrinkles tightened into something like a smile.