Iko yanked at her hands, trying to disconnect her thumbs from their sockets and shimmy out of the cords, but she couldn’t get enough leverage with her arms so tightly bound.
She was about to throw herself forward and ram into Jerrico’s spine with all the force her metal skull could muster when Winter collapsed, as limp as a rag doll.
Jerrico startled, barely able to regain his hold on her. In the same moment, Winter plunged the forgotten knife into his side.
Jerrico yelled and released her. Winter stumbled out of his grip, but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back, then backhanded her across the face. Winter fell. Her head crashed into the edge of the counter.
Iko screamed as the princess’s body crumpled to the floor.
With a stream of curses, Jerrico wrapped his hand around the knife handle, but didn’t pull it from the wound. His face was as red as his hair as he snarled at the princess. “What a stupid, crazy—”
He hauled back his foot to kick her, when Kinney raised his gun and fired. The shot knocked Jerrico against the wall.
Iko recoiled. No matter how many brawls and fights she found herself in, she was always stunned at how much more horrible the reality was than the net dramas. Even the death of such a despicable guard, his face contorted in disbelief as the life drained out of it, made her grimace.
The silence that followed felt like it had taken over the whole sector and Iko questioned if that last gunshot had permanently damaged her audio.
The guard was staring at the gun in his hand as if he’d never seen it before. “That’s the first time I pulled the trigger myself.” Inhaling deeply, he set his gun on the counter and crouched over Princess Winter. He reached back to inspect her head. His fingers came away bloodied.
“She’s breathing,” he said, “but she might have a concussion.”
Iko’s processor stumbled. “Whose side are you on?”
He looked up. His nose twitched as he took in the bullet hole again, but his gaze didn’t linger on it. “We were told the princess was dead. I thought another guard killed her.”
Iko arranged the folds of her shirt to cover her wound. “A guard named Jacin was ordered by the queen to kill her, but he helped her escape instead.”
“Jacin Clay.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why did you help us?”
With a tense brow, Kinney eased the princess back onto the floor. There was blood everywhere. From the thaumaturge. From Jerrico. From Winter.
“I helped her,” said Kinney, as if the distinction was important. He found the dish towel Iko had started to suffocate Mistress Pereira with and tied it around Winter’s head, bandaging the wound as well as he could. When he finished, he stood and picked up the bloodied knife.
Iko stepped back.
He paused. “Do you want me to cut those cords or not?”
She searched his face, wishing she didn’t feel so compelled to keep staring at it. “Yes, please?”
She turned around and he made quick work of freeing her. She half expected to find split skin fragments when she held up her hands, but the blade hadn’t so much as nicked her.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” said Kinney, gesturing to the gun still on the counter. Iko could tell he didn’t like looking at her. He kept finding reasons to look away. “I’m going to make up a report telling them you wrestled the gun away from me and killed Mistress Pereira and Sir Solis, then managed to get away. I’m not going to tell them anything about seeing the princess. They don’t even have to know she’s still alive.” He pointed at her nose, daring to hold her gaze for longer than half a second. “And you are going to get her far away from here. Keep her hidden.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “And here we were just keeping her holed up in a tiny little house in a completely random mining sector. Why didn’t it ever occur to us to try and keep her hidden?”
Kinney’s face was unreadable for a long moment before he asked, “You understand sarcasm?”
“Of course I understand sarcasm,” she spat. “It’s not like it’s theoretical physics, is it?”
The guard’s jaw worked for a moment, before he shook his head and turned away. “Just take care of her.” He checked on the princess one more time and then he was gone.
Forty-Two
Cinder and Wolf were taken to an underground cargo port crowded with battered delivery ships and three royal pods, which explained why the arrival of their enemies hadn’t set off any alarms. Cinder had only posted watch at the maglev platform.
She berated herself, hoping she would someday have a chance to learn from this mistake.
With her wrists shackled, Cinder felt like her arms might come out of their sockets. Though Wolf walked behind her, she could sense his energy—ragged and lethal. Shuddering with fear for Scarlet. Hollow and devastated over what they had done to Maha.
A royal guard was waiting. His hair was disheveled but his expression was empty.
“Report,” said Aimery. He was walking with a limp and Cinder fantasized about kicking him right where the bullet had entered.
“Mistress Pereira and Sir Solis are dead.”
Aimery lifted an eyebrow. He seemed nothing but curious at this unexpected statement. “How?”
“We were ambushed inside the Kesley house by an Earthen android,” said the guard.
Cinder’s heart leaped.
“A brawl ensued. The android was immune to mental manipulation, nor did bullets do much to affect her. She … it suffocated Mistress Pereira, after which I engaged it in hand-to-hand combat. It disarmed me and used my gun to shoot both Sir Solis and our thamaturge. While the android was distracted, I managed to lodge my knife into its back, severing its … spine, of sorts. That successfully disabled it.”