With a withering glare, Levana turned away and sighed. “How many lives would you sacrifice for hers?” She strolled toward the screen. The video was paused now, showing the three children in the doorway. “Would you rather I had these children killed instead?”
His heart kicked, trying to free itself from his rib cage.
“Or what about…” She turned back to him, tapping a finger against the corner of her mouth. “Your parents? If I recall correctly, Sir Garrison Clay was transferred to a guard post in one of the outer sectors. Tell me, when was the last time you spoke to them?”
He pressed his lips together, frightened that any admission could be turned against him. He had not seen or spoken to his parents in years. Just like with Winter, he had been sure the best way to protect his loved ones was to pretend he didn’t love them at all, so they could never be used against him. Just as Levana was using them now.
How had he failed like this? He couldn’t protect anyone. He couldn’t save anyone—
He knew his face was contorted with panic, but he couldn’t stifle it. He wanted to fall to his knees and plead for her to change her mind. He would do anything, anything but this.
“If you refuse me again,” Levana said, “it will be clear that your loyalty is false. You will be executed for treason and your parents will follow. Then I will send Jerrico to deal with the princess, and I do not think he will be as gentle with her as you would have been.”
Jacin choked back his misery. It would do him no good.
The thought of Jerrico—the smug and brutal captain of the guard—being given this same order made his blood run cold.
“Will you complete this task for me, Sir Clay?”
He bowed his head to hide his despair, though the show of respect nearly killed him.
“I will. My Queen.”
Twenty-Six
For the first time since she had abandoned it, Cress found herself missing her satellite. Jacin’s private quarters were smaller than her satellite had been. The walls were so thin that she dared not even sing to pass the time. And when she needed to use the facilities, she had to wait for Jacin to get off his shift so he could sneak her in and out of the washroom that was shared between the guards and their families, all of whom lived in this underground wing of the palace. Once she crossed paths with another person, and while it was only a guard’s wife who smiled kindly at her without any sign of suspicion, the encounter left Cress shaken.
She sensed the queen and her court all around her. She was aware at every moment that one person recognizing her for a shell would mean death. Perhaps torture and interrogation first. She was sick with anxiety for her own safety and terrified for the fate of her friends. She was frustrated that Jacin never had any news about them.
She told herself this was a good sign. Jacin would know if they’d been found. Wouldn’t he?
Cress distracted herself doing what she could to help Cinder’s cause with the limited resources available to her in Jacin’s quarters. She still had her portscreen, and though she dared not send any comms, knowing how easily they could be traced, she was able to connect to the queen’s broadcasting system via the holograph node embedded in Jacin’s wall. The nodes were everywhere on Luna—as common as netscreens on Earth, and the feeds as easily hacked. She still had Cinder’s prerecorded video stored in her port but she was afraid to do anything with it without knowing whether Cinder and the others were ready. Instead she spent her time interrupting propaganda messages from the queen and trying to come up with some way she could indicate to her friends that she was alive and relatively safe. She could never think of anything that wasn’t either too obvious or too obscure though, and she was too timid to do anything that could alert the queen to her presence.
She wished again and again that she had access to the same technology she’d had in the satellite. She felt more cut off from the world than she ever had—with no media to view but that approved by the crown. No way to send a direct communication. No access to Luna’s surveillance network or security systems and, hence, no way to fulfill the duties Cinder had given her. As the hours merged into days, she grew more anxious and addled, itching to get out of this enclosed space and do something.
She was altering the soundtrack from a royal message about their “brave victories against the weak-minded Earthens,” when hard-soled footsteps in the hall made her pause.
They stopped outside Jacin’s door. Cress disconnected her portscreen, threw herself off Jacin’s cot, and scurried underneath it, pressing herself as close to the wall as possible. Outside, she heard the input of a code and fingerprint check on the lock. The door opened and shut.
She held her breath.
“Just me,” came Jacin’s voice, sounding as disillusioned as ever.
Exhaling, Cress crawled out from her hiding spot. She stayed on the floor, her back pressed against the cot’s side. The cot was the only place to sit in this tiny room and she felt guilty taking it from Jacin—although she couldn’t recall him ever sitting in her presence. He had even slept on the floor since her arrival, without any discussion of it.
“Any news?” she asked.
Jacin leaned against the door, his shadowed eyes caught on the ceiling. He seemed strangely disheveled. “No.”
Cress pulled her knees into her chest. “What’s wrong?”
Still entranced by the ceiling, he muttered, “You disabled the cameras in the dock.”
She blinked.