“You know, Thorne,” said Cinder, speaking softly, like she didn’t want to say what she was about to say, “you don’t have to come with us. You could take us to Kai, then come back to the Rampion and … you know we would never give you away.” She took in a deep breath. “I mean it. For all of you. You don’t have to go with me. I know the danger I’m putting you in, and that you didn’t know what you were signing up for when you joined me. You could go on with your lives, and I wouldn’t stop you. Wolf, Cress, returning to Luna must feel like a death sentence to you both. And, Iko—”
Iko held up a hand. “You need a system debug if you’re suggesting that I would abandon you now.”
Thorne grinned. His self-assured, one-sided grin. “She’s right. It’s sweet of you to worry, but there’s no way you can pull this off without us.”
Pressing her lips, Cinder didn’t argue.
Cress stayed silent, wondering if she was the only one who was briefly tempted by Cinder’s offer. Returning to Luna was like sentencing themselves to death—especially a shell like her, who should have been killed years ago. Undermining Levana from the safety of space was one thing. But walking right into Artemisia … it was almost like asking to be killed.
But Thorne was right. Cinder needed them. All of them.
She shut her eyes and reminded herself to be brave.
“Besides,” added Iko, breaking the tension, “our captain is still holding out for that reward money.”
The others laughed and a smile fluttered over Cress’s lips, but when she opened her eyes, Thorne wasn’t laughing with the rest of them.
In fact, he looked suddenly uncomfortable, his shoulders tense. “Well, you know, some people might say that doing the right thing is a reward in itself.”
The cargo bay fell still. Cress blinked.
Uncertainty stretched between them.
With a nervous chuckle, Thorne added, “But those people die poor and destitute, so who cares what they think?” He brushed away his own words. “Come on, freeloaders. Let’s get to work.”
Seventeen
Kai stared out the window, watching the clouds swirl over the continent below. He sought out the Great Wall snaking across the Commonwealth and smiled to think his ancestors had built something even the Fourth World War couldn’t destroy.
He hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he saw his beautiful country.
He knew the danger he was putting himself in, along with countless representatives from the rest of the Union. He hoped Levana had been truthful when she said she meant them no harm. He hoped this wasn’t about to turn into a bloodbath in which the naïve Earthens made for easy prey.
He hoped, but hoping did little to comfort him. He didn’t trust Levana. Not for a moment.
But this was the only way to give Cinder the chance she needed to face Levana and start her rebellion. Cinder’s success would rid them all of Levana and her tyranny. No more plague. No more war.
Stars, he hoped this worked.
Burying a sigh, he cast his restless gaze around the sitting room of his royal ship. If it weren’t for the breathtaking view of Earth, Kai would have had no idea he was aboard a spaceship at all. The décor held all the old-world decadence of the palace: ornate lanterns and gilt wallpapers and a theme of flying bats carved into the crown moldings. Long ago, bats had been a symbol of good luck, but over the years they had come to symbolize safe travels through the darkness of space.
Torin caught his eye from an upholstered chair on the other side of the room, where he was busy reading his portscreen. He had insisted on coming to Luna, asserting that the Chair of National Security, Deshal Huy, would be capable of acting as head of the Commonwealth in their absence. Torin’s place was beside Kai—for whatever it was worth.
“Is something wrong, Your Majesty?”
“Not so far.” He rubbed his palms on his thighs. “You told the pilots I want to be informed if any ships hail us?”
“Of course. I wish I could tell you they found it to be a reasonable request, but they seemed understandably suspicious.”
“Just as long as they do it.”
“And you’re sure this is a good idea?”
“Not in the slightest.” The ship turned and Earth was no longer visible through the window. Kai turned away. “But I trust her.”
Torin set down his port. “Then I have no choice but to trust her as well.”
“Hey, you’re the one who told her about my second tracking chip.”
“Yes, and I have since wondered if that was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”
“It wasn’t.” Kai rolled his shoulders, trying to relax. “Cinder can do this.”
“You mean, Selene can do this.”
“Selene. Cinder. She’s the same person, Torin.”
“I must disagree. To the world, Linh Cinder is a dangerous felon who kidnapped a world leader and instigated a war, while Princess Selene could be the solution to all our problems with Luna. By helping Linh Cinder, the world will think you’re nothing but an infatuated teenager. By helping Selene, you’re making a brave stand against our country’s enemies and doing what you believe is best for the Commonwealth’s future.”
A wisp of a smile jotted across Kai’s lips. “Whatever the world thinks, they are the same person. I want what’s best for Cinder, and I want what’s best for my country. Conveniently, I believe those are the same thing.”
It had been a relief to tell Torin everything—the only person he trusted to keep his secrets. Cinder’s identity, the real reason they were going to Luna, the revolution she planned to start there, and Kai’s role in it all. Though Torin expressed concern that Kai was risking far too much, he hadn’t tried to talk him out of it. In fact, Kai wondered if Torin wasn’t developing a little bit of faith in Cinder as well, even if he tried to hide it behind cold cynicism.