Scarlet

of the office, her entourage falling in step behind her with neither expression nor comment.
    When they had gone, Huy and Torin each melted in front of Kai, looking like they hadn’t taken a breath since the queen’s entrance. And perhaps they hadn’t—Kai didn’t know what Sybil had been doing to them, but he could guess it hadn’t been comfortable.
    Nainsi swiveled on her treads. “I am so sorry, Your Majesty. I never would have given her access, but the door was already open.”
    Kai silenced her with a wave. “Yes, how coincidental that she chose the one time when the door wasn’t shut and coded to barge in here, isn’t it?”
    Nainsi’s processor whirred, no doubt running the odds.
    Kai rubbed one hand down his face. “It doesn’t matter. Everyone, out. Please.”
    Nainsi vanished out the door, but Huy and Torin lingered.
    “Your Majesty,” Huy said. “With all due respect, I need your permission—”
    “Yes, fine, whatever you need to do. Just, I need a moment. Please.”
    Huy clicked his heels. “Of course, Your Majesty.” Though Torin looked more apt to argue, he didn’t, and soon the door was hissing behind them both.
    With the click of the latch, Kai let himself crumble into his chair. His entire body was shaking.
    It was suddenly so clear that he wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t strong enough or smart enough to fill his father’s shoes. He couldn’t even keep Levana out of his own office—how was he going to protect an entire country from her—an entire planet?
    Spinning his chair around, he raked his hands back through his hair. His attention swept over the city below, but was soon pulled up to the glaring blue sky, cloudless. Somewhere beyond it was the moon and the stars and tens of thousands of cargo ships, passenger ships, military ships, delivery ships, vying for space beyond the ozone. And Cinder was in one of them.
    He couldn’t help it, but a part of him—maybe a large part of him—hoped Cinder would just disappear, like a fading comet’s tail. Just to spite the queen, to keep from her this one thing she so desperately wanted. It was only her vanity, after all, that had set off this tirade. Because Cinder had made that one foolish comment at the ball, suggesting that Levana wasn’t beautiful after all.
    Kai massaged his temple, knowing that he had to give up these thoughts. Cinder had to be found, and soon, before millions were murdered in her place.
    It was all politics now. Pros and cons, give and take, trades and agreements. Cinder had to be found, Levana had to be appeased, Kai had to stop acting cheated and indignant and start acting like an emperor.
    Whatever he’d once felt for Cinder—or thought he’d felt for her—was over.

 
    Fifteen
    Cinder turned off the shower and propped herself against the fiberglass wall while the nozzle dripped onto her head. She would have liked to stay in longer but was worried about using up the water supply, and judging from the half-hour shower Thorne had taken, she clearly couldn’t rely on him for conservation.
    Nevertheless, she was clean. The smell of sewage was gone, the salty sweat rinsed away. Stepping out of the communal shower, she rubbed her hair with a starchy towel, then spent a moment drying all the crevices and joints of her prosthetics to protect against rust. It was habit, even though her new limbs already had a protective coating. Dr. Erland, it seemed, hadn’t skimped on anything.
    Her soiled prison uniform was balled in a corner on the tiled floor. She’d found a discarded military uniform in the crew quarters—oversize charcoal-gray pants that had to be belted in at her waist and a plain white undershirt, which wasn’t much different from the cargos and T-shirts she was used to, back before she’d become a fugitive of the law. All that was missing were her ever-present gloves. She felt naked without them.
    She threw the towel and prison uniform into the laundry chute and unlatched the shower room door. The thin corridor revealed an open doorway to the galley on her right, and the cargo bay packed full with plastic crates to her left.
    “Home sweet home,” she murmured, wringing droplets from her hair as she ambled toward the cargo bay.
    There was no sign of the so-called captain. Only the faint running lights along the floor were on, and the darkness and the silence and the knowledge of all the empty space around the ship, stretching out for eternity, gave Cinder the peculiar sensation that