The ports were quiet when they stepped onto the main platform. The glowing floor made the ships’ shadows appear monstrous on the high ceilings, and the cavernous walls echoed every footstep, every breath. Winter imagined she could hear her own thunderous heartbeat ricocheting back to her.
She took off around the platform with Jacin following at a fast clip. She couldn’t help glancing toward the control booth, and though there remained a broken screen and a few dark stains on the wall, the technician’s body was gone. To her knowledge, his replacements were still in the palace’s main control center trying to regain access to the malfunctioning system.
Her attention swept down to the lower level and endless relief filled her to see the cargo untouched. Though the ambassadors’ personal luggage had been taken to their suites, their gifts and trade goods had been left behind for retrieval at a later date.
Winter spotted the box of Argentinian wine. Her pace quickened.
“Stars above,” Jacin grumbled. “If you dragged me down here for more packing paper—”
“Paper,” said Winter, scrambling unladylike over the cargo boxes, “is a most difficult resource to obtain. The lumber sectors have enough demand for building supplies. I once had to trade a pair of silk slippers for half a dozen greeting cards, you know.”
It was only partly true. Most of the paper goods available in Artemisia’s shops were made from pulped bamboo, which was one of the few resources that grew with abundance in the agriculture sectors. But bamboo also contributed to textile and furniture manufacturing, and even that paper was in limited supply.
Winter was fond of paper. She liked the crisp, tactile way it crinkled beneath her fingers.
Jacin sat down on a plastic bin, his legs dangling over the edge. In the serene solitude of the docks, Guard Jacin had withdrawn. “You want to turn packing paper into greeting cards?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I have no interest in the paper.”
One eyebrow rose. “The wine, then?”
Winter unlatched the shipping crate. “Not the wine, either.”
She held her breath and heaved open the lid. It clattered against the next bin and Winter found herself staring into a large shipping crate with a layer of tight-packed wine bottles and loose bits of paper and no sign of the girl.
Her heart plummeted.
“What?” Jacin leaned forward to peer into the box. His face took on a layer of concern. “Princess?”
Her lips parted, then snapped shut again. She turned in a slow circle, examining the crates stacked all around her. The girl could have sneaked into any of them.
Or she could have run.
Or she could already have been found by someone else.
Jacin dropped down from his perch and grabbed her elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s gone,” Winter murmured.
“She?”
“There was—” She hesitated. Her gaze darted up to one of the many inconspicuous cameras along the dock’s perimeter. Though the queen would have demanded them to be disabled while she was there, Winter had no idea if or when they’d been reinstated.
Jacin bristled, with impatience but also worry. Checking for the cameras was the first sign someone was going against the queen’s wishes. After a quick sweep of the ceiling, he shook his head. “No indicator lights. They’re still off.” He was frowning as he said it, though. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Winter swallowed. “There was a girl. I think she came with Linh Cinder and her companions. I saw her sneaking around these crates while the queen was arguing with the technician, so I hid her in here. But … now she’s gone.”
Jacin rocked back on his heels. Winter expected him to chastise her for doing something so dangerous and right in front of the queen, no less. But instead, after a long hesitation, he asked, “What did she look like?”
“Small. Short blonde hair. Afraid.” Remembering the girl’s terrified expression made Winter shiver. “Maybe she tried to rejoin her companions. Or … or maybe she’s back on the emperor’s ship?”
Jacin’s gaze had unfocused. “Cress,” he whispered, turning around. He released Winter’s elbow and bounded back up the crates, vaulting onto the platform overhead.
“What? Jacin?” She lifted her skirt over her knees and hurried after him. By the time she’d managed to get back up onto the platform, Jacin was in the control booth, yanking open cabinets filled with wires and cords and computer parts that Winter didn’t comprehend.
He found the girl behind the third door he opened, her body curled into such a tight ball Winter couldn’t believe she hadn’t suffocated. Her wide eyes attached to Jacin and widened, impossibly, further.
Winter staggered to a halt as Jacin reached into the cabinet and pulled the girl out. The girl yelped, trying to regain her footing as Jacin shoved the door shut behind her. She pried her arm out of his grip and backed against the wall, trembling like a caged animal.
Rather than reaching for her again, Jacin took a step back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He cursed. “Princess, you have got to stop collecting these rebels.”
Ignoring him, Winter drifted toward the girl, her hands placating. “We won’t hurt you,” she cooed. “It’s all right.”
The girl spared her a hasty glance before turning back to Jacin. Terrified, but also angry.
“My name is Winter,” she said. “Are you hurt?”