“You dare to threaten me here?” Levana hissed, and though she tried to mimic Cinder’s voice, Kai could tell the difference. “In front of both our kingdoms?”

Kai’s attention was still on the blood leaking from her wounded arm.

He had done it. For a moment, he had gotten through the glamour, through the manipulation. It wasn’t much, but he had actually hurt her.

“It wasn’t meant to be a threat,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed.

“We both know you intend to kill me the moment I’m no longer useful to you. I thought it was fair to let you know the feeling is mutual.”

Levana glared, and it was unnerving to see such hatred on Cinder’s face.

Vibrating with adrenaline, Kai looked back at the audience. Most of their guests were on their feet, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. Near the front, Torin looked like he was ready to hurtle himself over two rows of seats to be at Kai’s side the instant he was needed.

Kai held his gaze long enough, he hoped, to convey that he was all right. He had hurt her, Kai wanted to say. It was possible to hurt her. Which meant it was possible to kill her.

Setting his jaw, Kai turned back to face Prime Minister Kamin. She, too, was shaking, both hands gripping her portscreen.

“I do,” he said, listening to his own proclamation echo around the altar.

The officiant’s gaze darted between him and his bride, like she wasn’t sure if she should proceed or not. But then Levana straightened her wedding gown—or Cinder’s ball gown, as it was. Whatever reaction she was hoping to get from him by maintaining the glamour, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—give it to her.

When the silence had hovered for too long, Levana growled, “Get on with it then.”

Kamin gulped. “By the power given to me by the people of Earth, I do now pronounce you … husband and wife.”

Kai didn’t even flinch.

“We ask that all video feeds be discontinued so the groom might kiss his bride.”

Kai waited to be hit by a wall of dread, but even that was replaced with fervent determination. He imagined all the holographs on Luna fading away, and all the Earthen newsfeeds flickering to dead air. He imagined all his people watching, and the horror they must be feeling as those feeds were silenced.

He turned to Levana.

His bride.

His wife.

She was still impersonating Cinder, but the ball gown was replaced by the vibrant red wedding dress and sheer veil. She smiled deviously.

Ignoring her, he mechanically took her veil between his fingers and pulled it over her head.

“I thought you might prefer this look,” she said. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

Kai couldn’t bring himself to react, no matter how much he wanted to reflect that haughtiness back to her. “In fact, I do.” He craned his head toward her. “Selene is more beautiful than you could ever be.”

He kissed her. An abrupt, passionless kiss that felt nothing at all like kissing Cinder.

A collective breath released from the audience.

Kai pulled away, putting a full body of open air between them. The audience started to applaud, politely at first, then growing more enthusiastic as if they were afraid their clapping might not be polite enough. Kai held out his elbow for Levana to take, their hands still bound, and together they turned to face the audience. From the corner of his eye, he saw Cinder’s image melt away, her face replaced with Levana’s, and he was glad she looked annoyed. It was the tiniest of victories, but he was glad for it.

They stood amid the thundering cheers, each of them seething.

Husband and wife.

Forty-Eight

Cress had long ago lost track of where they were or what direction they were going. Jacin had dragged her through some complicated labyrinth of halls beneath the palace, down stairs and through maglev tunnels. Though it felt like they’d been walking for hours, she couldn’t even be sure they’d left the boundaries of Artemisia Central, given how circuitous their route had been.

They were sneaking through a tunnel, staying close to the edges to avoid any shuttles, which had a tendency to sneak up too fast on their silent magnets, when the power cut out, plunging them into darkness. Cress gasped and reached for Jacin, but froze with her fingers inches away from where she expected him to be. Clenching her fist, she drew her hand back to her side.

Brave. She was brave.

In the distance, they heard the scream of a shuttle hitting the rails and careening to a stop.

A moment later, orange emergency lights illuminated the tracks at their feet and a voice echoed from invisible speakers. “This shuttle route has been discontinued until further notice. Please proceed to the next platform on foot and prepare for a security inspection. The crown apologizes for any inconvenience.”

She glanced up at Jacin. “What does that mean?”

“My guess? That whatever Cinder’s doing, it’s working.” He started walking again, picking their way more carefully with the reduced lighting. “They must be limiting transportation into the city.”

Her nerves hummed. “Will we be able to get out?”

“We’re almost to the station that receives eighty percent of our supply trains. They should still be operational, given how many guests Levana has to feed this week.”

Cress trotted in his wake, hoping he was right. He hadn’t been very forthcoming with his plan and she still had no idea where they were going. She wondered if he was right. Had Winter and Scarlet gotten her message to the others? Had they been able to broadcast the video? She had no answers. If Levana was aware of a potential uprising, she was keeping the knowledge to herself.

The tunnel became wider, the rails merging with two other tracks, and Cress was hit with a pungent smell that reminded her of the caravan she and Thorne had crossed the Sahara with. Dirt and animals.

Around the next bend in the tunnel, she could see a bright glow and hear the echoes of grating machinery and rumbling wheels. Jacin slowed his pace.

A massive platform came into view. A holographic sign was showing coverage of the royal wedding.

A dozen maglev tracks stretched in multiple directions, loaded with cargo trains. Most of their cars were hidden from view in the darkened tunnels, waiting to be relieved of their goods. Cranes and pulleys filled the dock and Cress imagined it would have taken countless laborers to man all the machinery, but the only personnel was a contingent of uniformed guards sweeping the cars ahead.

Jacin pulled Cress into the shadows of the nearest train. A second later, a silhouette passed up ahead and the beam of a flashlight jotted in their direction. Jacin and Cress ducked between the nearest cars, watching as the light beam flickered along the ground and disappeared.

“A6 is clear,” someone yelled, followed by another: “A7, clear.”

There was a pause, then the hum of magnets. The train swayed forward.

Jacin jumped onto the axle to keep from being caught on the tracks, hauling Cress up beside him. This time she did grab his arm as the train surged forward, then came to another stop. Car doors thudded open.

Jacin jumped down from the axle, dragging Cress with him. “Inspections,” he whispered. “Making sure no one tries to sneak into the city.”

“What about sneaking out of the city?”

He pointed toward the front of the train. “We need to get into one of the cars that was already searched. This train should be heading back to the agriculture sectors from here.”