“I’m pretty sure he’s luckier.”
Thorne nodded in agreement, but said nothing, and Cinder didn’t move. Peering at him, she mouthed a single word—Cress?
His indifference dissolved and he gave the smallest shake of his head. She didn’t know if this meant that he didn’t know where she was, or if something bad had happened and he didn’t want to discuss it at the moment.
Cinder was distracted from her curiosity by her hand twitching. She was lifting the gun toward her own head.
It was halfway there when she gritted her teeth and forced her limb to stop. To her relief, it did.
Snarling, she lowered the weapon back to her side.
Levana laughed, but the sound came off as more brittle than charmed. “I thought that might be the case,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “I am … not myself at the moment. Though it seems, neither are you.”
Cinder frowned, wondering why Levana could control her in the courtyard, but failed now. Was it because her own mental strength had been too fragile then, while trying to maintain control of so many people, or was the queen growing weak? Perhaps the video showing her true face had fragmented her abilities.
It did not seem to be affecting her ability to manipulate Thorne, but, to be fair, Cinder was pretty sure a Lunar toddler could have manipulated Thorne.
Levana sighed. “Why, Selene? Why do you want to take everything from me?”
Cinder narrowed her eyes. “You’re the one who tried to kill me, remember? You’re the one sitting on my throne. You’re the one who married my boyfriend!” The word was out before she’d contemplated it, and Cinder thought it was the first time she’d ever said it aloud. She wasn’t even sure if it was true. But it felt sort of right, except for the whole being-married-to-her-aunt thing.
But Levana didn’t seem to be listening.
“You don’t understand how hard I worked for all this. How many years of planning, of laying the foundation. The disease, the shells, the antidote, the soldiers, the operatives, the carefully orchestrated attacks.” She pressed a pale hand against her temple. She looked miserable. “It was done. It was perfect. He would have announced our engagement at the ball, but, no—you had to be there. Back from the dead to haunt me. And you come here, and you ask my people to hate me, and you show that … that horrid video, and fill their head with your lies.”
“My lies! You’re the one who brainwashes them. I just showed them the truth.”
Levana flinched, turning her head even farther away like she couldn’t stand to be reminded of what she was hiding underneath the illusion of beauty.
Exhaling sharply, Cinder stepped forward.
Thorne stepped back.
She grimaced. So much for hoping Levana was caught up enough in her own delusions to stop paying attention.
“What I can’t understand,” Cinder said, easing her tone, “is how you could have done that to me. I was just a kid, and you…” Her heart twisted. “I know those are burn scars you have. I have the same scar tissue where I lost my leg. Knowing what it’s like, living with that—how could you do it to someone else?”
“You weren’t supposed to survive,” Levana snapped, as if that made it better. “At least I would have had the mercy to kill you, to be done with it.”
“But I didn’t die.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed. It is not my fault someone thought you might be worth saving. It is not my fault they turned you into … into that.” She cast a halfhearted gesture toward Cinder.
Cinder clenched her teeth, wanting to argue the point, but she bit her tongue. Levana had been living with her excuses for a long time.
She stole a glance at Thorne. He was sucking on his teeth and staring up at the ceiling. He looked bored.
Cinder tried taking a step backward, like a show of peace, but Thorne stayed where he was.
“Who did it to you, anyway?” she asked, aiming for gentle. “Who hurt you like that?”
Levana sniffed and, finally, dared to look at Cinder. There was all the beauty glistening on the surface, but now that Cinder had seen beneath it, she couldn’t unsee the truth. Whether it was her cyborg programming or Levana’s own weakness, she could see her as she was now. Scarred and deformed.
There was a twinge of sympathy in her stomach, but only a twinge.
“You don’t know?” Levana asked.
“Why should I?”
“You stupid child.” A lock of hair fell over Levana’s face. “Because it was your mother.”
Eighty-Nine
The word mother was foreign to Cinder’s ear. Mother. A woman who had given birth to her, but that was all. She had no memories of her, only rumors—horrifying tales that said Queen Channary was more cruel even than Levana, though her reign had been much shorter.
“My own sweet sister,” Levana purred. “Would you like to hear how it happened?”
No.