Cress

She glared at him and wanted to argue, but going over their escape plan one more time wasn’t going to do anything but remind her of all the things that could go wrong. Jacin did know—they’d discussed the matter into the ground, and everyone was all too aware of how easily this plan could fall apart without him. Without any of them.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Forty-Six

Cress studied herself in the full-length dressing room mirror and almost began to cry.

She had somehow, someway, become a character in an opera.

Her skin had sloughed off the last of the sunburn, leaving the tiniest kiss of sun on her complexion.

Iko had cropped her hair so that it framed her face in pretty, golden waves, and though they’d had no makeup aboard the ship, Iko had also taught her to pinch her cheeks and nibble on her lips until they flushed a nice pinkish color.

She was, against her better judgment, beginning to warm to Iko. At least she wasn’t as bad as that Darla had been.

And though Cress herself had been the one to place the rush purchase at the designer boutique, using a hacked financial account, she hadn’t entirely believed this was all happening before this moment.

She was going to a royal wedding, in a gown of raw silk and chiffon, dyed deep royal blue to match her eyes (Iko’s suggestion). The bodice was snug and the skirt so full she wasn’t entirely sure she could walk without tripping. The shoes were simple form-fitting flats. Though she and Iko had discussed an array of fancy heels at length, Cinder had reminded them that Cress may have to run for her life at some point during the day’s events, and practicality had won out.

“Bristol-mèi, what do you think?” asked the attendant as she finished with the last button on Cress’s back.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

The girl preened. “We are thrilled that you chose us for your royal wedding debut. We could not be more honored.” She scooped Cress’s hair away from her ears. “Do you have your jewelry with you, to see how it looks all put together?”

Cress tugged awkwardly at her earlobe. “Oh, no, that’s all right. I—uh—have to pick it up on the way. To the palace.”

Though a flicker of confusion crossed the girl’s face, she merely bowed her head and shuffled out of the dressing room. “Are you ready for your husband to see you?”

Cress flinched. “I suppose.”

She followed the attendant out of the dressing room and into a luxuriously furnished sitting area, where she spotted her new “husband.”

Wolf was scowling at a mirror and trying to pat down his unkempt hair. He wore an impeccably fitted tuxedo with a classic white bow tie and pressed lapels.

He caught Cress’s eye in the reflection, and she couldn’t help but stand a little straighter, but though his gaze skimmed over her, he had no reaction whatsoever.

Deflated, Cress clasped her hands. “You look great … sweetheart.”

He did, in fact, look like a romance hero, all muscles and edges and chiseled bone structure. He also looked miserable.

Suddenly nervous, Cress gave a little twirl, displaying her full regalia.

Wolf only gave her a crisp nod. “The hover is waiting.”

She let her hands drop to her sides, resigned to the fact that Wolf would dress for his role, but he would not play it. “Right. You have the invitations?”

He patted his breast pocket. “Let’s get this over with.”

*   *   *

In the delivery ship, traveling from the warehouse to the caterer, Iko had found it all too easy to command another android to switch clothes so that she could fit in with the rest of them in their staff uniforms—as long as no one was too put off by her blue hair braids, which had now been pulled into a neat bun.

She had departed the ship with the first group of rental androids at the catering office, so that when her body double was later discovered wearing the wrong clothes at the florist, Iko would be long gone.

And who would ever suspect her? She was just another brainless, obedient android.

But that was the hard part.

Standing in perfect unison with the others. Blinking precisely ten times a minute. Keeping quiet while the human catering staff chatted excitedly about maybe seeing the emperor himself and ruminated over how terrifying it would be if Queen Levana wasn’t pleased with the food. Iko was forced to bite her tongue, allowing her programmed instincts, the instincts she’d spent her life trying to keep buried while she learned about humor and sarcasm and affection, to keep her expressionless.

From there, they had been herded into a large hover. Though it wasn’t a far distance, the trip was made longer as the hover rounded to the back of the palace, near the research and laboratory facilities and, of course, the staff entrance.

Iko sensed the chatter of the catering staff grow more nervous as the hover began to slow.