She watched him carefully, curious if Winter’s feelings were even half mutual, but he gave nothing away.
He was handsome, sure enough. Broad shouldered and chisel jawed. But he wasn’t what she’d been expecting. His posture spoke of condescension, his expression disinterest. He was all brambles and icicles as he strode toward her cage.
He was about as opposite of warm, spacey, babbling Winter as she could imagine.
Jacin didn’t crouch or bend down and it was a strain on Scarlet’s neck to look up at him. Her dislike increased.
“I trust she told you about your friends.”
Winter had told her they were alive. That they were coming for her. That Wolf missed her very much.
Now, meeting the infamous Jacin, she couldn’t envision him being the one to make that report.
“I got the message.”
Scarlet wondered if he expected a thank-you, which he wasn’t going to get, given that he was here on Luna, wearing that uniform. Whose side was he on?
Scarlet huffed and leaned back on her elbows. It may not have been as dignified, but she wasn’t about to let this guy intimidate her into a permanent neck ache. “Is there something you needed?”
“Winter thinks you’re a friend.”
“That makes one of us.”
After a beat, he revealed a crack in his armor. The tiniest of smiles.
“What?” she asked.
Rocking back on his heels, Jacin rested his hand on the knife again. “I wasn’t sure what kind of girl could make a special op go ballistic over her. I’m glad to see it’s not the stupid kind.”
She curled her hands into fists. “Also not the kind that buys into empty flattery.”
Wrapping a hand around one of the bars, Jacin finally crouched so they were at eye level. “You know why you’re still alive?”
She gritted her teeth and answered, somewhat begrudgingly, “Because of Winter.”
“That’s right, firework. Try not to forget it.”
“It’s hard to forget when I’m locked up in her cage, sunshine.”
The corner of his mouth crinkled with restrained amusement, but it vanished just as fast. Unnerving. He nudged his chin toward her hand. “When was the last time someone checked that for infection?”
“I know what infection looks like.” She resisted the urge to hide her wounded finger, but there was no way she was showing this guy her finger stub. “It’s fine.”
He made a noncommittal sound. “They say you’re a decent pilot.”
She scowled. “What is this, a job interview?”
“Have you ever flown a Lunar ship before?”
For the first time, he had her full attention, but her curiosity was crowded with suspicion.
“Why?”
“They’re not much different from Earthen ships. Little different layout of the flight controls, smoother liftoff generally. I think you could figure it out.”
“And why would it matter if I can fly a Lunar ship?”
His gaze cut through her, saying more than his words. He stood. “Just be ready.”
“Be ready for what? And why do you care about me, anyway?”
“I don’t,” he said, so casual Scarlet had to believe him. “But I do care about the princess, and she could use an ally.” He looked away. “A better ally than me.”
Twenty-Eight
Winter’s heart fluttered as she pushed open the massive glass door to the menagerie. Sounds of wildlife spilled into the corridor—squawking birds in their palatial cages, monkeys chattering from overhead vines, white stallions neighing in distant stables.
She shut the door before the heat could escape and scanned the forked pathways, but there was no sign of Jacin. The menagerie took up several acres of this wing of the palace, a labyrinth of barred cages and glass enclosures. It was always humid and perfumed with exotic flowers, an aroma that barely covered up the animal scent.
It was her favorite place—had been even before Scarlet had lived there. She always felt at home with the animals, who knew nothing of mind control and manipulation. They didn’t care if she was beautiful or if she was the queen’s stepdaughter or if she was going mad. She could not remember ever having an episode of madness inside these walls, surrounded by her friends. Here, she was calmer. Here, she could pretend that she was in control of her own senses.
She tucked an unruly curl behind her ear and moved away from the door. She passed the chilled home of the arctic fox, who was curled atop a birch log, hiding his face behind a bristled tail. The next cage held a mother snow leopard and her litter of three prancing cubs. On the opposite side of the mossy path was a sleeping white owl. It peeped its huge eyes open as Winter passed.
She spotted Ryu’s enclosure ahead, but he must have been sleeping in his den, as the wolf was nowhere to be seen. Then there was Scarlet, the one creature in the menagerie that was not made up of all-white fur or feathers, and she wore the distinction with defiance in her red hair and the hooded sweatshirt she never took off despite the humidity. She was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring at the flowering moss outside her cage.