Inhaling deeply, Cinder stretched her thoughts thin, reaching for all the electrical pulses within her reach, and slipped her will into her allies. It was what she should have done in RM-9, before Aimery had seized control. She told herself it was a protection against Levana and her thaumaturges. So long as a civilian was under her control, then the queen could not have them.
But she also knew that she would use them, if she had to.
She would sacrifice them, even. If she had to.
She had ordered the strongest of her allies to do the same thing—to seize control of their comrades now, before Levana and her court had the chance. They couldn’t control everyone, but she had to believe that neither could Levana. Cinder needed enough people to overwhelm her defenses. It had to be enough. They had to be enough.
“If Levana does not surrender,” Cinder yelled into the eerie silence, “we will take the palace by force. There are multiple entrances on this main floor. Take them all. Break the windows. But do not forget that the queen and her entourage are inside.” She scanned the windows again, unnerved that there was still no sign of opposition. A feeling of dread stirred in the pit of her stomach.
She was confident in their plan, but not that confident. They had made it to the queen’s doorstep without a hint of resistance beyond the barricaded tunnels. Something should have happened by now.
“Thaumaturges will try to manipulate you,” she continued. “Kill them if you have the chance, as they will not hesitate to kill you, or use you to kill your own friends and neighbors. The queen’s guards are trained soldiers, but their minds are weak. Use that to your advantage. Above all else, remember why you are here today. By this night, I will be your queen, and you will no longer be slaves!”
A cheer pulsed through the courtyard, coupled with a bone-chilling howl that coursed through Cinder’s body. She raised an arm, telling her allies to hold. She prepared herself to let it fall—the signal to charge. She watched Iko from the corner of her eye, waiting for her to say that the ten minutes were up.
Her eye caught on movement.
The palace doors were opening.
The soldiers dropped into fighting stances. A low growl rumbled through the ground, shaking the soles of Cinder’s stolen boots. As the doors spread, they revealed a glowing silhouette. Not a long-coated thaumaturge or even the slender figure of the queen.
A mutant. One of the queen’s soldiers.
A hand grabbed Cinder’s elbow and hauled her back behind the front line.
The soldier stepped onto the palace steps. His movements were graceful and precise. There was a familiarity to him that Cinder struggled to place, something different from the soldiers surrounding her now. The same malformed face. The same protruding teeth. Angry eyes flashing at the crowd. He was dressed not in the drab, utilitarian uniforms of the regiment, but in a uniform more fitting to the royal guard—all decorum.
Her breath caught.
It was Wolf. Wolf, repugnant and beastly, who stopped at the edge of the steps.
Her thoughts darted to Scarlet, but she dared not turn to see Scarlet’s reaction.
Another form emerged from the castle. Queen Levana herself. Thaumaturge Aimery followed and, spilling out behind them, thaumaturges in red and black, forming a line of haughty expressions and amused sneers, hands tucked into their belled sleeves. The embroidered runes glinted in the first natural daylight they had seen in weeks.
For the first time, Cinder had no lie detector to tell her that the queen’s glamour was an illusion. She had no evidence that this was really Wolf, either, and not someone glamoured to look like him.
But she also had no reason to doubt it.
She felt again for the strings of power connecting her to the men and women she had taken control of. She had never controlled so many at once, and her grip felt delicate and weak.
“‘By this night, I will be your queen,’” Levana quoted, smiling her wicked smile, “‘and you will no longer be slaves.’ What spirited words from the girl who causes death and chaos everywhere she goes.” Levana held out her hands, like a peace offering that meant nothing. “Here I am, girl who claims to be Princess Selene. I will not make you go in search of me. Go ahead. Try to take my crown.”
Cinder’s eye twitched. Her pulse was racing beneath the surface, but there was calmness at the center of her mind. Maybe because, for the first time, her cyborg brain wasn’t breaking down the statistics of the world around her. She could guess that her adrenaline levels were spiking and her blood pressure was worrisome, but without the red stream of warning text, she didn’t care.
Arm still raised, she spread her fingers, indicating that her people should hold their attack.
Levana was betting on Cinder’s loyalty to Wolf. She must believe that Cinder would not attack so long as he could get caught in the crossfire. That she would not dare to put her friend in danger.
But she couldn’t even be sure he was her friend anymore. Was he still Wolf, or was he something else now? A monster, a predator?
She clenched her jaw, recognizing the hypocrisy of her thoughts. He was the same now as the soldiers who stood beside her, ready to fight and die for their freedoms. Whatever Wolf had become, she had to believe he was still her ally.
The true question was whether or not Wolf, her friend, her ally, her teacher, was a worthwhile sacrifice to win this war.
“Princess,” Strom growled, “she’s brought reinforcements.”
Cinder dared not take her gaze from Levana, though curiosity twitched inside her.