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.”