BOOK
Three
“Oh, Grandmother, what terribly big teeth you have!”
Twenty-Four
“Hide.” Cinder said the word slowly. Tenderly. A breathy plea ending in the soft, careful d. “Hide. Rampion, hide. Hide, Rampion. Disappear … Fade away … You do not exist.… You cannot be seen.…”
She was sitting cross-legged on her bunk, in the dark, envisioning the ship that surrounded her. The steel walls, the churning engine, the screws and soldered seals that held everything together, the computer mainframe, the thick glass of the cockpit windows, the closed exit ramp in the cargo bay, the podship dock beneath her feet.
Then she imagined it invisible.
Swimming past radars, and the radars remaining silent.
Dissolving into blackness under the watchful eye of satellite stations.
Gracefully dancing between all the other ships that cluttered the solar system. Drawing no attention. Not existing.
Her vertebrae tingled, beginning at the top of her neck and running down to her tailbone. A warmth radiated outward, filling every muscle and every joint, seeping through her fingers and back into her knees. Recirculating.
She released the air from her lungs, let her muscles release with her breath, and started the chant again. “Hide, Rampion. Rampion, hide. Hide.”
“Is it working?”
Her eyes popped open. In the darkness, all she could see were pinpoints of stars beyond her window. They were on the side of Earth opposite from the sun, leaving the ship cloaked in shadow and the vastness of space.
Cloaked. Hiding. Invisible.
“Good question,” she said, turning her attention up toward the ceiling as had already become habit, even though she knew it was ridiculous. Iko was not some spot on the ceiling, was not even the speakers that projected her chipper voice. She was every computer wire, every chip, every system. She was everything but the steel and bolts holding the ship together.
It was a little disconcerting.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Cinder said. She glanced out the window. There were no ships visible through the small portal, only stars and stars and stars. In the distance, a vague purple haze, perhaps some gas left off the tail of a comet. “Do you feel any different?”
Something rumbled beneath her feet, soft as a kitten’s purr. It reminded her of the way Iko’s fan used to spin extra fast when she was processing information.
“No,” Iko said after a minute, and the thrumming died down. “Still gargantuan.”
Cinder untucked her legs, allowing blood back into her foot. “That’s what worries me. I feel like it shouldn’t be this easy. The entire Commonwealth military is after us. For all we know, they could have elicited the help of other Union militaries by this point too, not to mention Lunars and bounty hunters. How many ships have you picked up on our radars?”
“Seventy-one.”
“Right—and not one of them noticed us or got suspicious? Does that seem possible?”
“Maybe what you’re doing is working after all. Maybe you’re a natural at this Lunar thing.”
Cinder shook her head, forgetting that Iko couldn’t see her. She wanted to believe she was having an effect, but it felt wrong. Lunars had control over bioelectricity, not radio waves. She had a suspicious feeling that all this chanting and visualizing was an enormous waste of time.
Which left the question: Why hadn’t they been spotted yet?
“Cinder, how long will I have to stay like this?”
Cinder sighed. “I don’t know. Until we can install another auto-control system.”
“And until you find me a new body.”
“That too.” She rubbed her hands together. The subtle warmth that had filled up her right fingers had faded, and for once they were colder than the hard metal ones.
“I don’t like being a ship. It’s awful.” There was a distinct whine in Iko’s tone. “It makes me feel less alive than ever.”
Falling back on her cot, Cinder studied the black shadows of the bunk. She knew exactly how Iko felt—for the brief time she’d been acting as the auto-control system herself, it had seemed like her brain was being stretched in every direction. Like she’d lost touch with her physical body, had detached her brain and was hovering in a nonexistent space between the real and the digital. Pity welled up in her for Iko, who had never wanted anything but to become more human.
“It’s only temporary,” she said, pushing the hair off her forehead. “As soon as it’s safe to get back to Earth, we’ll—”
“Hey, Cinder! Are you watching the net?” Thorne crowded into the doorway, outlined by the energy-saving lights in the hallway. “What is this, nap time? Turn some lights on.”
Cinder’s muscles knotted across her shoulders. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
Thorne surveyed the small, dark room. “Yeah, good one.”
Throwing her feet off the bed, Cinder sat up. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
“Well. Keep up the good work, mate. In the meantime, you should come watch this. They’re talking about us on all the channels. We’re famous.”
“No, thank you. I’d rather not see myself acting like a maniac at the most important social event of the year.” She’d only watched the footage from the ball once—of when she’d lost her foot and crashed down the stairs, landing in a heap of wrinkled silk and muddied gloves—and that one viewing had been plenty.
Thorne waved his hand. “They already showed the clips. And now you’ve achieved the dream of every red-blooded girl under the age of twenty-five.”
“Right, my life is a real dream come true.”
Thorne wiggled his eyebrow. “Maybe not, but at least dreamy Prince Kai knows your name.”
“Emperor Kai,” she said, frowning at him.
“Precisely.” Thorne cocked his head toward the front of the ship. “They’re starting a press conference, to talk about you. Thought you wouldn’t want to miss”—Thorne fanned himself, swooning—“his heavenly, chocolate-brown eyes, and perfectly tousled hair, and—”
Cinder sprang off the bed, shoving Thorne into the door frame as she marched past him.
“Ow,” he said, rubbing his arm. “What’s got your wires crossed?”
“I’m adjusting the channel now.” Iko’s voice followed Cinder through the cargo bay and into the cockpit, where the main screen was showing Emperor Kai at a podium before an audience of journalists. “The conference is just starting, and he looks so handsome today!”
“Thanks, Iko,” said Cinder, claiming the pilot’s seat.
“Hey, that’s my—”
She silenced Thorne with a wave and adjusted the screen’s volume.
“—thing we can to find the escaped convicts,” Kai was saying. The circles beneath his eyes suggested that it had been a long time since he’d experienced a proper night’s rest. Nevertheless, seeing him made Cinder both warm with longing and miserable when she thought of the last few moments she’d seen him. Her, having just tripped on the garden steps and lying sprawled on the gravel pathway with her wires sparking out of her ankle.