It was a lie. Not every ship was armed, but there was enough, he hoped, to still do significant damage. To make them afraid.The energy in the room changed. The smiles became hesitant. The laughter uncertain.
“While you were busy taunting this poor servant, I sent a comm to my military with the order to open fire as soon as they’re within range. But I will revoke that command once my people have been safely relocated to the ports.”
A woman giggled, but it was high-pitched and anxious. “You would not dare risk an attack while you yourself are in the palace! You and all your Earthen friends would be dead.”
Kai grinned. “You’re right. I wouldn’t attack Artemisia Central. But if I’m not mistaken, most of your homes aren’t in the central dome, are they? Most of them are in one of these outlying city sectors, right?”
The glowing ships in the holograph ticked closer. Closer.
The aristocrats exchanged looks, showing the first signs of nervousness. It was as if they were silently daring one another to call his bluff, but no one wanted to be the one to do it.
“If I’m not mistaken,” Kai said, “we have less than twenty minutes before the ships arrive. If you ever want to see your homes again, I suggest we move fast.”
*
“This is not good,” said the nasally voice Cress had come to think of, somewhat unoriginally, as Sinus, the queen’s moronic computer technician.
Honestly. If Sybil had let her stay on Luna, Cress could have taken over this guy’s job when she was ten.
“This is very, very bad,” he continued, his voice trembling with impending doom.
“Just make it stop,” yelled a deeper masculine voice. Cress was pretty sure it was the same guard who had been stationed outside the hall before.
“I can’t! The video already played. Do you want me to unplay it?” Sinus groaned. “She … she’s going to kill me. The queen will have me executed for this.”
Withholding a sigh, Cress tried her best to roll her ankle. A cramp was starting to develop in her left calf and she had a feeling it was going to come on quick if she didn’t have a chance to stretch the muscle soon. She managed to move her ankle a little, but the small movement only reminded her muscles how enclosed they were in this tiny alcove.
The technician knew it was too late. He knew he couldn’t stop the video from playing. Why didn’t he leave already?
“Well?” said the guard. “Did she set up any more surprises for us?”
“What more do you need? That video—the queen will be…” He didn’t finish, but Cress sensed the shudder in his voice.
Having seen the video herself at the mansion, Cress knew the vision wouldn’t soon leave them. Levana’s scarred face, her empty eye socket, her nub of an ear. It was not a face one looked away from, no matter how they wanted to. It was not a face one forgot.
And now they’d all seen it. Cress hoped Levana herself had seen it. She suspected it wouldn’t be easy to recover her glamour after a shock like that.
Maybe not, though. Levana had been practicing her deception for a long, long time.
“Have they caught her?” Sinus asked. “The girl who did this? She’s … she really knew what she was doing.”
The comment might have flattered Cress if she hadn’t been so uncomfortable. As it was, she just wanted them to go talk about her elsewhere. She was still gripping the handle of the gun Thorne had given to her, and it had imprinted her palm with painful red grooves.
“That’s not your problem,” the guard growled. “Just get it back to normal. And get rid of that video before—”
He didn’t finish. There was no before. They were already in the after.
“I’m trying,” said Sinus, “but the crossfeeds have all been restructured and it could take days to…”
Cress stopped listening, her attention stolen by the cramp in her right calf. She gasped, wrapping her hands around the muscle in an attempt to rub out the tightness.
“What was that?” Sinus asked.
Cress flinched and crawled out of the alcove. The second she was on her feet, she aimed the gun at the technician, then the guard, then back at the technician. For as puny as his voice sounded, she’d been imagining a guy not much older than her, but he looked like he might be in his fifties.
The technician pushed back his chair. The guard reached for his weapon.
“Don’t mo—ah!” Cress grimaced as the muscle in her leg tightened again and she fell into the desk. The corner dug into the hip that was still sore from where the statue had fallen on her in the servants’ halls. Groaning, she reached down to knead the muscles.
Remembering the gun, she started to lift it again, at the same moment the guard snatched it from her hand. Cress cried out and grabbed for it, but the gun was already out of reach. Whimpering, she went back to rubbing the muscle and raised the now-empty hand in exhausted surrender.
The guard kept his own weapon pinned on her.
“I’m unarmed,” she said meekly.
He didn’t seem to care.