Winter (The Lunar Chronicles #4) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,112

turned her attention to the nearest guards, those stationed beneath the window. She could detect them, at least, but they were already under the control of one of the thaumaturges.

Panic simmered through her. She had to think.

She still had five bullets in her hand. Thorne and Scarlet were both armed too. She was confident she could hit one of the nearest guards and maybe even a thaumaturge, but the attempt would give away their location.

Plus, as soon as Aimery realized they were under attack, he would start using the sector residents as shields.

She didn’t know if she could risk it.

She didn’t know if she had a choice.

“However,” said Aimery, his dark gaze fixed on the crowd, “Her Majesty is prepared to offer you all amnesty. Each one of you will be spared.” His lips turned upward in a kind smile. “All you must do is tell us where you’re keeping the cyborg.”

Forty

Cinder shoved a knuckle into her mouth, biting down hard to keep from screaming. She could feel her companions’ eyes on her, but she dared not look at them.

“You cannot go out there.” Scarlet’s whisper was harsh, no doubt seeing the indecision scrawled across Cinder’s face.

“I can’t let them die for me,” she whispered back.

A hand grabbed her and jerked her away from the window. Wolf glared down at her. Sweet and vicious Wolf, whose mother was down there, with them.

She half expected him to give her away himself, but instead he grabbed Cinder’s shoulders, squeezing tight. “No one is dying for you. If anyone dies today it will be because they finally have something to believe in. Don’t you even think about taking that away from them now.”

“But I can’t—”

“Cinder, get yourself together,” said Thorne. “You are the heart of this revolution. If you give yourself up now, it’s over. And you know what? She’ll probably kill all those people down there anyway just to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

A gunshot made her yelp. Wolf clamped his hand over Cinder’s mouth, but she ripped herself away and threw herself back at the window.

White spots crowded into her vision. Then red as fury blinded her.

In the square below, a man’s body was sprawled out at Aimery’s feet, blood splattered across the ground. Cinder didn’t know who it was, but that didn’t matter. Someone was dead. Someone was dead because of her.

Aimery scanned the stricken faces of those closest to him, smiling pleasantly. “I will ask you again. Where is Linh Cinder?”

They all kept their eyes pinned to the ground. No one looked at Aimery. No one looked at the growing pool of blood. No one spoke.

Inside her head, Cinder was screaming. The gunshot still echoed in her skull, her audio interface repeating it again and again and again. She pressed her hands over her ears, shaking, furious.

She would kill Aimery. She would destroy him.

A body pressed against her back. Scarlet wrapped her arms around Cinder, tucking her face into the crook of Cinder’s neck. To restrain her, she thought, as much as to comfort her.

She didn’t pull away, but she was not comforted.

Below, Aimery signaled to a woman seven rows back, a strategically random choice that would ensure no one felt safe. Another shot fired from one of the guards. The woman convulsed and crumpled against the person beside her.

A shudder pulsed through the crowd.

Cinder sobbed. Scarlet held her tighter.

How long would it go on? How many would he kill? How long could she stand to wait up here and do nothing?

“All it takes is one person to tell me her location,” said Aimery, “and this will all be over. We will leave you to your peaceful lives.”

Something damp fell on Cinder’s neck. Scarlet was crying, shaking every bit as hard as she was. But her arms didn’t loosen.

She wanted to look away, but she forced herself not to. Their bravery left her both speechless and horrified. She found herself wishing someone would betray her just so it would end. Just so the choice would no longer be hers.

Thorne took her hand and squeezed. Wolf formed a barrier to her other side, all three of them acting both as her jailers and her life raft. She knew they shared her horror, but none of them could understand the responsibility she felt clawing at her from the inside. These people trusted her to fight with them, to give them the better future she’d promised.

Did it matter that they were willing to die for her cause? Did it matter that