Winter

Pulse thumping, Cress surveyed the corridor. The crowd was beginning to trickle toward the great hall, but plenty of guests were still fluttering around one another in no apparent hurry. No one was paying them any attention. This woman, too, seemed to have eyes only for Thorne. Cress racked her brain for some way to get him away from her without raising suspicion or drawing attention to herself.

Then the woman wrapped her arms around Thorne’s neck and every thought flew out of Cress’s head. Dumbfounded, Thorne offered no resistance as she pulled him into a kiss.

Seventy-One

Cress’s spine stiffened indignantly, at the same time a group of Lunar women chortled not far away. “Good eye, Luisa,” one of them called, followed by another: “If you spot any more pretty Earthens like that one, send them my way!”

Neither Thorne nor Luisa seemed to hear them. In fact, as Cress watched, aghast, Thorne slid his arms around Luisa’s body and drew her closer.

Cress clenched her fists, her shoulders, her entire body. She was appalled. Then annoyed. Then logic began to creep in and she realized that, while they were probably just toying with Thorne, they would not be so kind to her if they figured out she was immune to their glamours and manipulation.

Shaking with contempt, Cress backed into an alcove behind a pillar. There she waited, arms crossed and red sparks in her vision, as Thorne kissed the girl.

And kissed her.

And kissed her.

Cress’s fingernails had left painful crescent moon imprints in her skin by the time they finally pulled apart.

Luisa fluttered her lashes, breathless. “You’ve been wanting that awhile, haven’t you?”

Cress rolled her eyes skyward.

And Thorne said …

Thorne said …

“I think I’m in love with you.”

A nail pierced Cress’s heart, and she gasped, actually gasped from the pain of it. Her jaw fell, but she quickly lifted it again. The puncture wound in her chest quickly filled with resentment.

If she had to watch him swoon over anyone else she was going to scream. How was it possible that she was the only girl in the galaxy he didn’t try to kiss and woo and flirt with?

Well, he had kissed her that one time on the rooftop, but it had been as a favor to her and hardly counted.

She withdrew farther into the alcove, seething, but also hurt. That was it, then. He never would desire her, not like these other girls who caught his eye. Cress had to accept the fact that their kiss—the most passionate, romantic moment of her life—had been nothing more than a gesture made out of pity.

“Oh, aren’t you just darling?” said the woman. “And not a bad kisser, either. Maybe we can enjoy more of each other’s company later?” Without waiting for a response, she patted Thorne on the chest and winked, before swaying away down the hall.

The adoring peanut gallery, too, meandered off, leaving Thorne in the middle of the corridor, stunned. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark with what Cress assumed was lust, and his hair was messed where Luisa had clawed her hands into it.

Luisa. Who he loved.

Cress squeezed her arms tight over her chest.

After a long, bewildered minute, Thorne shook off the lingering effects of the manipulation and looked around, turning in a full circle. His hand smoothed down his unkempt hair.

“Cress?” he asked, not too loudly at first, but then, with growing worry, “Cress!”

“I’m here.”

He spun toward her and his body sagged with relief. “Spades. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. That was—”

“I don’t want to know.” Pushing herself away from the wall, Cress started down the hallway.

Thorne chased after her. “Whoa, hey, hold on. Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” She swung her hands in a wild gesture. “You have the right to flirt with and kiss and proclaim your love for whoever you want to. Which is good, because you do. All the time.”

Thorne kept pace easily beside her, which irritated her even more given that she was already winded from walking so fast.

“So…,” Thorne said, his tone teasing. “You’re jealous?”

Cress bristled. “You do realize that all she wanted was to get a laugh at your expense, right?”

He chuckled, annoyingly good-natured when Cress was so furious. “Yeah, I get that now. Cress, wait.” Thorne grabbed her elbow and forced her to stop. “I know they can’t do it to you, but the rest of us can’t choose not to be controlled by them. She manipulated me. It wasn’t my fault.”

“And I suppose you’re going to say that you didn’t enjoy it?”

He opened his mouth, but hesitated. “Er. Well…”

Cress ripped her arm away from him. “I know it wasn’t your fault. But that doesn’t excuse everyone else. I mean, take Iko!”

“What about Iko?”

She dropped her voice to mimic Thorne. “‘I really know how to pick them, don’t I?’”

He chuckled, his eyes glinting at her mockery. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? Her new body is gorgeous.”

Cress fixed one moment’s worth of intensive glaring on him.

“That was clearly not the right thing to say. Sorry. But I’d just gotten my eyesight back.”

“Yeah, and all you wanted to look at was her.”

Thorne blinked, and sudden comprehension dawned in his eyes, but Cress stormed away before he could reply. “Never mind. Let’s just—”

“Pardon me.”

A palace guard blocked their path, one arm held out, stopping Cress in her tracks. She gasped and backed into Thorne, who latched on to her elbow. Her mouth ran dry. She’d been so incensed she hadn’t noticed the two guards stationed in the hall.

“We are asking that all guests begin to make their way to the great hall so the coronation ceremony can begin without delay.” The guard nodded in the direction they’d come. “Please proceed this way.”

Cress’s heart was hammering, but Thorne, calm as ever, pulled her away with a casual smile. “Of course, thank you. We must have gotten turned around.”

As soon as they turned a corner, Cress yanked her arm out of Thorne’s hold. He let his hand fall without argument. They were in a hallway that was quieter than the main corridor, though there were still a handful of guests drifting about.

“Stop here,” Thorne said, and she did, letting him back her against a wall. He towered too close to her, and to anyone it would look like they were in some intimate conversation, which only served to make Cress’s anger flare again. She clenched her fists and stared resolutely at his shoulder.

Thorne sighed.

“Cress. I know you’re upset, but could you pretend not to be for a second?”

She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She was not angry. She was not hurt. She was not heartbroken.

When she opened her eyes again, she morphed her expression into what she hoped looked like cheerful flirtation.

Thorne raised an eyebrow. “That’s uncanny.”

Her voice still had a sting to it, though, when she said, “I’m a girl too, you know. I may not be as pretty as Iko, or brave like Cinder or bold like Scarlet—”

“Wait, Cress—”

“And I don’t even want to know what dumb thing you said when you met Princess Winter for the first time.”