Winter (The Lunar Chronicles #4) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,137

A thumbnail’s worth of dust and rock chipped away, joining the pile at her feet. The lava rock was hard, but her titanium tools were harder, and her resolve was the hardest it had ever been.

She was angry. She was frustrated. She was afraid.

She was distraught over Maha’s death, which kept replaying in her memory, making her want to jab the screwdriver into her own temple to make it stop. She had looked at the raid on RM-9 from every angle, torturing herself with what-ifs and implausible scenarios, trying to find some way to bring Maha back to life. To free herself and Wolf. To protect her friends. To defeat Levana.

She was aware of how futile it was.

Maybe Aimery was right. Maybe she should have controlled everyone in that sector from the start. It would have made her a tyrant, but it also would have kept them alive.

She was nauseated from the rank smell coming from the bucket against the wall. She was annoyed that Levana’s goons had taken her best weapon—her cybernetic pointer finger with the gun attachment—and locked her up with her stepmother and stepsister, who had barely spoken since she’d arrived.

Rationally, she knew there was no way she could dig through to the door’s hinges before the guards came for her. She knew she was working herself into a frenzy for no logical reason. But she couldn’t bring herself to slump to the ground, defeated.

Like they were.

Another rock chip crumbled down the wall.

Cinder blew a lock of hair out of her face, but it fell right back down.

According to the clock in her head, she had been in this cell for over twenty-four hours. She had not slept. The wedding, she knew, would be over by now.

The thought tied her stomach into knots.

It occurred to her that if she had let Levana come and take her from New Beijing, this was where she would have ended up anyway. She still would have been executed. She was still going to die.

She’d tried to run. She’d tried to fight. And all she got for it was a spaceship full of friends who she’d now be taking down with her.

“Why did he call you Princess?”

Cinder paused, glaring at the pathetic scratch marks she’d made. It was Pearl who had spoken, her voice fragile as she broke their silence for the first time in hours.

Pushing the miscreant hair back with her sweat-dampened wrist, Cinder glanced at Pearl and Adri, not bothering to hide her disdain. She had already hardened herself to any sort of sympathy for them. Every time a twinge struck her, she called up the memory of Adri demanding that Cinder hobble around footless for an entire week, as a reminder that she “wasn’t human.” Or the time Pearl had thrown Cinder’s toolbox into a crowded street, ruining the silk gloves Kai had given her.

She kept reminding herself that whatever was going to happen to them, they deserved it.

It didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, thinking about it was making her feel cruel and petty, and also giving her a headache.

She shook it off.

“I’m Princess Selene,” she answered, turning back to her work.

Pearl laughed, a short hysterical sound, full of disbelief.

Adri stayed silent.

The cell filled with Cinder’s persistent scrape scrape clatter, scrape scrape clatter. Her pile grew larger, pebble by hard-earned pebble.

She was never getting out of here.

“Garan knew.” Adri’s voice was brittle.

Cinder froze again. Garan had been Adri’s husband, the man who had made the decision to adopt Cinder. She’d barely known him.

She was annoyed when her own curiosity forced her to turn around. Switching the screwdriver for her flashlight, she beamed it toward her stepmother. “Excuse me?”

Adri flinched, both arms wrapped around her daughter. They hadn’t moved from their corner. “Garan knew,” she said again. “He never told me, but when he was taken away to the quarantines, he told me to take care of you. He said it as if it were the most important thing in the world.” She fell quiet, like the presence of her dead husband was there, hanging over them all.

“Wow,” said Cinder. “You really excelled at that dying request, didn’t you?”

Adri’s gaze narrowed, full of a disgust Cinder was all too familiar with. “I will not tolerate you speaking to me this way when my husband—”

“You won’t tolerate it?” Cinder yelled. “Should I tell you all the things I’m no longer going to tolerate? Because it’s a long list.”

Adri shrank back. Cinder had wondered if Adri might be afraid