Lunar Chronicles #4 Winter - Page 160

Lips parting, Cress envisioned herself hidden in that alcove again. Watching Thorne’s expression of bewilderment. Of desire. The way he’d kissed her, and held her …

“I thought I was kissing you,” he confirmed, brushing her lips with his again. And again. Cress’s fingers found his lapels and she pulled him closer.

It didn’t last long, though, as another memory resurfaced.

She yanked away. “But … you told her you loved her.”

His expression froze, desire giving way to alarm. They hovered in that moment for an eternity.

Finally, Thorne gulped. “Right. That.” He shrugged. “I mean, I was … we were—”

Before he could finish, the door swung open behind him.

Seventy-Two

They both froze.

Jaw tightening, Thorne whispered, “To be continued?”

She nodded, having some difficulty trying to remember where they were.

Thorne spun back to the door, his body shielding Cress from whoever had entered. Peering around his elbow, she caught sight of a palace guard outlined in the hallway’s light.

The guard was scowling as he raised a device to his mouth. “It’s just a couple of guests,” he said, his voice gruff. He nudged his chin toward Thorne and Cress. “I need to ask you to move along. All corridors and public s.p.a.ces need to be cleared prior to the start of the ceremony.”

Clearing his throat, Thorne tugged down his jacket and adjusted his bow tie. “So sorry. I guess we just … got carried away.”

Cress plucked a fern leaf off Thorne’s sleeve. Heat singed her cheeks, but it was only part from mortification, and mostly from the lingering feel of his arms, his kisses, the hazy reality of the past few minutes.

“We’ll just be moving along, then.” Thorne grabbed the bug-antenna hat that had ended up on the floor and handed it to Cress, then helped her back down to the floor.

Her shaking hands fumbled to strap the antennae back onto her head.

“Thanks for letting us borrow the place,” Thorne said to the guard, winking, as they scooted into the hallway. Only once the guard was behind them did he show the slightest crack in his composure, releasing a slow breath. “Try to act natural.”

The words echoed in Cress’s head for a long moment before she could make sense of them. Act natural? Act natural? When her legs were made of noodles and her heart was about to pound right out of her chest and he’d said that he loved her, at least, in a sense. What did it even mean to act natural in the first place? When had she ever in her life known how to act natural?

So she started to laugh. A stifled snort, first. Then a rush of giggles crawling up her throat, until she was half falling over herself in an effort to walk straight. The laughter nearly choked her.

Thorne kept an arm locked around her waist. “Not quite what I had in mind,” he muttered, “but sort of charming all the same.”

“I’m sorry.” She gasped out the words, coughed a little, and tried to mold her face into natural, but another giggle fit was rumbling her stomach, spasming in her chest. She buckled over again.

“Um. Cress. You’re adorable, but I need you to focus for a second. We’re lucky that guard didn’t recognize either of us, but if he—”

“Hey! Stop!”

Thorne cursed.

Cress’s laughter was doused with panic.

“Run!”

She did, gripping Thorne’s hand. Around one corner, then another. He led them to an inconspicuous alcove with a small door and shoved her through—into the servants’ halls.

“Left!” he ordered, yanking the door shut and grabbing a service tray that had been left in the corridor. He wedged it into place while Cress ran, past pallets of supplies and maintenance equipment, storage cabinets and broken sculptures. Thorne caught up to her easily. He had pulled the handgun from inside his jacket. “Still have that chip?”

She pressed a hand against her bodice, detecting the small chip with Cinder’s video tucked against her skin. She nodded, running too hard to speak.

“Good.”

Without warning, Thorne slammed into Cress, pushing them both behind an enormous wheel of electrical cording. She hit the wall hard, panting.

“Two corridors back there was an elevator,” he said. “Find a place to hide, then get to the security center. I’ll draw them off and circle back around to find you.”

Cress started to shake her head. “No. You can’t leave me, not again. I can’t do this without you.”

“Sure you can. It won’t be as much fun, but you’ll figure it out.”

Footsteps thundered in the distance. She squeaked.

“I’ll find you,” Thorne whispered. He pressed a hasty kiss against her mouth, wrapping her hand around something heavy and warm. “Be heroic.”

He took off running again, just as she heard the footsteps catching up.

“There!” someone yelled.

Thorne disappeared around a corner.

Cress stared at the gun he’d given her. This small contraption, so solid in her grip, terrified her more than the guards. She ached to put it down on the floor and step away.

Instead, she flattened herself against the electrical cording and pried her finger from the trigger, where it had landed instinctively. Just like a computer, she told herself. Computers only do what you tell them to do. The gun will only fire if you pull the trigger.

It wasn’t particularly comforting.

Two guards ran past, not even glancing in her direction.