Cress (The Lunar Chronicles #3) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,70

her food. “Come, you should not be so near the fire. You can use Kwende’s tent tonight, but you should drink more before you sleep. Jamal, bring me some damp blankets.”

Cress accepted the hand that pulled her to her feet. She turned to Thorne and gathered her courage to give him a small, non-theatrical kiss on the cheek, but as soon as she bent toward him, blood rushed to her head. The world flipped over. White spots pricked at her eyesight, and she collapsed into the sand.

Twenty-Five

Cinder pulled back the drapes and stepped into the shop, holding the curtain for Jacin as she surveyed the shelves around her. Jars were filled with assorted herbs and liquids, many of them labeled in a language she didn’t know, although if she stared at them for too long her netlink would begin searching for a translation. These exotic ingredients were scattered among boxes of drugs and bottles of pills that she recognized from pharmacies in the Commonwealth, along with bundles of gauze and bandages, pasty ointments, portscreen accessories designed for taking various vital stats, massage oils, candles, and anatomical models. Flecks of dust caught on a few streams of light that filtered in from dirty windows, and a fan spun lazily in the corner, doing little to dispel the dry heat. In the corner, a holograph displayed the progression of internal bleeding due to a side injury, occasionally flickering.

Jacin meandered toward the back of the shop, still walking with a slight limp.

“Hello?” Cinder called. Another curtain hung over a doorway on the far wall, alongside an old mirror and a standing sink that was overgrown with a potted plant.

The curtain swished and a woman ducked through, pulling an apron on over plain jeans and a brightly patterned top. “Coming, com—” She spotted Cinder. Her eyes widened, followed by an enormous smile as she yanked the apron strings behind her. “Welcome!” she said in the thick accent that Cinder was becoming familiar with.

“Hi, thank you.” Cinder set a portscreen down on the counter between them, pulling up the list that Dr. Erland had recorded for her. “I’m here for some supplies. I was told you would have these things?”

“Cinder Linh.”

She raised her head. The woman was still beaming. “Yes?”

“You are brave and beautiful.”

She tensed, feeling more like the woman had threatened her than complimented her. In the moments following the unexpected statement, she waited for her lie detector to come on, but it never did. Brave, maybe. At least, she could comprehend why someone would say that after they’d heard the stories about the ball.

But beautiful?

The woman kept smiling.

“Um. Thank you?” She nudged the portscreen toward her. “My friend gave me this list—”

The woman grabbed her hands and squeezed. Cinder gulped, surprised not only by the sudden touch, but at how the woman didn’t flinch when she took her metal hand.

Jacin leaned over the counter and slid the portscreen toward the woman so suddenly that she had to release Cinder’s hand in order to catch it. “We need these things,” he said, pointing at the screen.

The woman’s smile vanished as her gaze swept over Jacin, who was wearing the shirt from his guard uniform, freshly cleaned and patched so that the bloodstains hardly showed on the maroon fabric. “My son was also conscripted to become a guard for Levana.” Her eyes narrowed. “But he was not so rude.”

Jacin shrugged. “Some of us have things to do.”

“Wait,” said Cinder. “You’re Lunar?”

Her expression softened when she focused on Cinder again. “Yes. Like you.”

She buried the discomfort that came with such an open admission. “And your son is a royal guard?”

“No, no. He chose to kill himself, rather than become one of her puppets.” She flashed a glare at Jacin, and stood a little taller.

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” said Cinder.

Jacin rolled his eyes. “I guess he must not have cared about you very much.”

Cinder gasped. “Jacin!”

Shaking his head, he snatched the portscreen back from the woman. “I’ll start looking,” he said, shouldering past Cinder. “Why don’t you ask her what happened next?”

Cinder glared at his back until he had disappeared down one of the rows. “Sorry about that,” she said, searching for some excuse. “He’s … you know. Also Lunar.”

“He is one of hers.”

Cinder turned back to the woman, who looked offended at Jacin’s words. “Not anymore.”

Grunting, the woman turned to reposition the fan so Cinder could catch most of the gentle breeze. “Courage comes in many forms. You know about that.” Pride flickered over the woman’s