Cinder’s eyes widened. The others crept forward.
After three slow blinks, Winter rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up to her knees. She turned down the hood, letting her thick hair tumble out around her shoulders. “Hello.”
Scarlet started laughing again. She remembered what it was like seeing the princess for the first time. Her full lips, delicate shoulders, huge eyes flecked with shavings of gray, all paired with the unexpected scars on her right cheek that should have made her less stunning but didn’t.
It occurred to Scarlet that Wolf hadn’t seemed to notice. She felt a little twinge of pride.
“Stars,” whispered Iko. “You’re beautiful.”
A loud click echoed through the alley. “Drop your glamour,” demanded Thorne, aiming a gun at the princess.
Scarlet’s pulse hiccuped. “Wait—” she started, but Cinder had already put a hand on his wrist and was pressing the gun back down.
“It’s not a glamour,” she said.
“Really?” Thorne leaned toward Cinder and whispered, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
This statement was followed by another long, heady silence, during which Winter passed her sweetest smile between each of them.
Thorne clicked the safety on and shoved the gun back into its holster. “Holy spades, you Lunars have good genes.” An awkward pause followed, before he added, “Who is she?”
“This is Winter,” said Scarlet. “Princess Winter.”
Thorne guffawed and pushed a hand into his hair. “Are we running a boardinghouse for misplaced royalty around here, or what?”
“Princess Winter?” said Cinder. “They just announced that you were murdered.”
“Jacin faked the murder,” said Scarlet, “and helped us escape.”
Cinder’s eyes flashed toward her, surprised. “Jacin?”
Scarlet nodded. “The guard who attacked us aboard the Rampion.”
A shadow fell over Cinder’s expression. She looked away.
“She’s just so pretty.” Iko sighed, feeling her own face for comparison.
Scarlet glared. “She can hear.”
Cocking her head, Winter held out a hand toward Thorne. His eyes widened and it seemed an automatic response to help her to her feet.
He was blushing when Winter took her hand away and adjusted her skirt. “You are all very kind,” she said, but it was Cinder that her attention had landed on. She studied the cyborg, curious. Cinder scrunched her shoulders in tight to her body. “And you,” said Winter, “are my long-lost cousin and very dear friend. I could not believe it until now, but it is true.” Winter took Cinder’s hands into hers. “Do you remember me?”
Cinder slowly shook her head.
“It’s all right,” said Winter, and her expression said that it was all right. “My memories are hazy too, and I’m a year older. Still, I hope we can be good friends again.” She interlaced their fingers. “This hand is unusual,” she said, lifting the titanium-plated one. “Is it made of ashes?”
“Is it made … I’m sorry, what?”
“Don’t,” said Scarlet, waving a hand. “I find it’s better if you don’t ask.”
The princess grinned again. “Forgive me. You are no longer only my friend or my cousin, and this is no way to greet you.” She dropped into a dancer’s curtsy and placed a kiss on Cinder’s metal knuckle. “My Queen, it is my honor to serve you.”
“Er—thank you?” Cinder pried her hand away and hid it behind her back. “That’s kind, but you don’t have to do that. Again. Ever.”
Thorne cleared his throat. “We need to get back to the house. We’ve already risked drawing enough attention, and she…” He looked at Winter. There was an edge to his expression, like he didn’t trust anyone who was more attractive than he was. “… will definitely draw attention.”
Thirty-Three
Wolf helped Scarlet clean and bandage her wounded finger without asking her to tell him what, exactly, had happened. Though his expression had said he was ready to tear out Queen Levana’s jugular, his hands had been breathlessly gentle. Afterward, Scarlet insisted she be given time to bathe, and though Wolf had looked borderline devastated, the time apart was worthwhile. The tiny washroom in his childhood home was by no means luxurious, but it was a far cry from the trough she’d had in the menagerie, and she felt brand-new when she emerged. She and Winter were given new clothes out of Maha Kesley’s meager stash while theirs were washed, though Scarlet was already anxious to have her hoodie back. It had become her own personal armor.