“Yeah, that, but I think there might be some problems with your interface too. The diagnostics showed a few errors with net connectivity and data transfer.”
Cinder’s smile faded. She’d been dependent on her cyborg brain ever since she could remember, relying on her ability to download information, send comms, monitor newsfeeds. It was an uncomfortable feeling to be without it, like part of her brain had been erased.
“I’ll just have to make do,” she said. “I’m alive, and I have two working hands and two working feet. I’ve been in worse shape before.” She glanced from Iko to Cress. “Thank you.”
Cress ducked her head, while Iko tossed her braids over one shoulder. “Oh, you know. I used to apprentice for this brilliant mechanic in New Beijing. She may have taught me a thing or two.”
Cinder laughed.
“Speaking of brilliant mechanics,” Iko said, “do you think you have time to look at my arm now?”
Sixty-Two
Winter sat on a rough-hewn bench, watching the last chips of ice thaw around her feet. She plunked her toes against the shallow puddle that had formed, amazed at how everything about it could be so real—the crackling, the cold—even when she knew it wasn’t.
Sighing, she raised her head, weary as she was, to watch the haphazard training sessions happening all down the dusty street. Maneuvers and tactics, a hundred trained soldiers doing their best to build an army. She scanned the crowd for Scarlet’s flaming hair, not sure where her friend had gone off to.
Instead of seeing Scarlet, her gaze caught on something else entirely. A head of pale hair near the back of the crowd.
Her heart lurched.
Inhaling a shaky breath, she pulled herself from the bench, but he was already gone.
Her gaze darted over all the faces, searching. Hoping.
She clenched her fists at her sides, willing away the sudden rush of euphoria. It was her desperation causing her to see phantoms. She missed him so much. She still didn’t know if he was even alive. She supposed it was to be expected that she would see his face in every crowd, around every corner.
There—she saw it again. Sunshine-bright hair tucked back behind his ears. Broad shoulders disguised in the clothes of the sector laborers. Blue eyes that pinned her to the ground even as her entire body tingled. Air flooded her lungs. He was alive. He was alive.
But Jacin raised a finger to his lips, halting her before she could run to him. Ducking his head in an effort to minimize his height, he skirted around a group of laborers and slinked toward the forest. He glanced back once and, with a subtle jerk of his head, disappeared into the shadows.
Palms damp, Winter looked around for Scarlet, but she was nowhere to be seen. No one was watching her. She slipped away, newly energized, and traipsed in between the slender tree trunks.
She would circle around through the woods and meet Jacin halfway. She would throw herself into his arms and she didn’t care if he thought it was appropriate or not.
Up ahead she could hear the bubble of the central fountain.
“Princess.”
Winter startled. In her haste, she’d walked right past the old woman without even seeing her. Though she was an ancient creature with a crooked back, she had a liveliness to her expression. She was holding a basket filled with twigs and bark gathered from the forest floor.
“Yes, hello,” Winter said in a rush, dipping into a quick curtsy. Her gaze was already traveling on, searching for blond hair and a teasing smile. She saw nothing. The trees were hiding him from her.
“You’re looking for a handsome young man, I believe.” The woman’s wrinkles tightened into something like a smile.
Winter started to nod, but stopped herself. “Did someone come through here just now?”
“Just your prince, my dear. No need to be shy. He’s very handsome, isn’t he?” She herself stood no taller than Winter’s collarbone, though that was partly due to the crook in her spine. Winter wondered how many years of hard work weighed upon those shoulders.
“He asked me to give you a message.”
“He did? Jacin?” Winter glanced around again. “But where did he go?”
“He said not to follow him. That it’s too dangerous, and he’ll find you when it’s safe again.” She tilted her head, gazing down the row of orderly trees, to where the alphas were yelling their orders.
Winter tried to stifle her disappointment. He could not have waited for a smile, a kind word, a quick embrace? “Why aren’t you with the others?”
The woman shrugged her shoulders, with some effort. “Someone said we could use wood scraps. I cannot do much, but I can assist in that way.”
“Of course,” said Winter. “We all must do what we can. Allow me to help you.” She took the basket from the woman.
The woman held up a finger, her arm no longer burdened. “I almost forgot. Your prince left you a gift.” Digging through the basket, she found a plain box buried beneath the twigs. “He said these are your favorites.”
Winter’s heart leaped as she took the box in her palm. She knew what it was without opening it and her heart expanded. She couldn’t imagine the trouble Jacin had gone through to get these for her. All so she would know he was thinking about her?
Unless there was more to it than that.
Unless there was a message.
Chewing the corner of her lips, she lifted the lid. There, inside, were two pristine sour apple petites, fresh from the confectioner’s window.