Dr. Dmitri Erland perched on the edge of his hotel bed, with the worn
cotton quilt polling around his ankles. All his attention was on the bat-
tered netscreen on the wall, the one where the sound cut out randomly
and the picture liked to tremble and flicker at inopportune moments.
Unlike the last time a Lunar representative had come to Earth, this time
the arrival was being internationally broadcast. This time, there was no
hiding the purpose of the visit.
Her Majesty, the Queen, had gotten what she wanted. She was going to
become empress.
Though Queen Levana herself would not be arriving until closer to
the ceremony date, Thaumaturge Aimery Park, as one of her closest lac-
keys—er, advisers—was coming early as a show of "goodwill" to the people
of the Commonwealth and planet Earth. That, and to ensure all wedding
arrangements were being made to suit Her Majesty's preferences, no
doubt.
The shimmering white spaceship with its decorative runes had
still showed no sign of opening. A journalist from the African union was
droning on and on in the background about trivial wedding and coro-
nation details—how many diamonds were in the empress's crown , the
length of the aisle, the number of expected guests, and of course, yet
another mention that Prime Minister Kaman herself had selected as
the ceremony's officiant.
He was glad for one thing to result from this engagement, at least. All
this ballyhoo had taken the media's attention off Miss Cinder. He'd hoped
that she would have had the sense to take this serendipitous distrac-
tion and come find him, quickly, but that had not yet happened. He was
growing impatient and more than a little worried for the girl, but there
was nothing he could do but wait patiently in this forsaken desert and
continue with his research and plan for the day when all his hard work
would finally come fruition.
Growing bored of the broadcast, Dr. Erland removed his spectacles
and spent a moment huffing on them and rubbing them down with his
shirt.
It seemed that Earthen were quick to forget their simply prejudices when
a royal wedding was involved or perhaps they were simply terrified to
speak openly about the Lunars and their tyranny, especially with the
memory of the wolf-hybrid attacks so fresh in the collective memory.
Plus, since the announcement of the royal engagement, at least two
members of the worldwide media who had declared the alliance a royal
mistake—a net group administrator from Bucharest-on-the-Sea and a
newsfeed editor from Buenos Aires—had committed suicide.
Which Dr. Erland suspected was a diplomatic way of saying "mur-
dered by Lunars, but who can prove it?"
Everyone was thinking the same thing, regardless of whether or not
they would say it. Queen Levana was a murderer and a tyrant and this
wedding was going to ruin them.
But all his anger was eschewed by the knowledge that he was a
hypocrite.
"Levana was a murderer?
Well, he had helped her become one.
It had been years—-a lifetime, it seemed—since he was one of the
leading scientists on Luna's genetic engineering research team. He had
spearheaded some of their greatest breakthroughs, back when Channary
was still queen, before levant took over, before his Crescent Moon was
murdered, before Princess Selene was stolen away to Earth. He was the
first to successfully integrate the genetics from an arctic wolf with those
of a ten-year-old boy, giving him not many of the physical abilities
that they'd already perfected, but the brutal instincts of the beast as
well.
Some nights he still dreamed of that boy's howls in the darkness.
Erland shivered. Pulling the blanket over his legs, he turned back to
the broadcast.
Finally, the spaceship door lifted. The world watched as the ramp hit
the platform.
A gaggle of Lunar nobility arose from the ship first, bedecked in vi-
brant silks and flowing chiffons and veiled headdresses, always with the
veiled headdresses. It had become quite the trend during Queen Chan-
nary's rule, who, like her sister, refused to reveal her true face in public.
Erland found himself leaning closer to toward the screen, wondering if
he could identify any of his long-ago peers beneath their cloaks.
He had no luck. Too many years had passed, and there was a good
chance that all those telling details he'd memorized were glamour cre-
ated anyway. He, himself, had always given off the illusion of being
much taller when he was surrounded by the narcissistic Lunar court.
The guards were next, followed by five third-tier -thaumaturge, don-
ning their embroidered black coats. They were all handsome without
any glamours, as the queen preferred, though he suspected that few of
them had been born with such natural good books. Many of his cowork-
ers on Luna had made lucrative side businesses offering thaumaturge and
royal guard hopefuls.
In fact, he'd always been fond of the rumor that Sybil Mira's cheek-
bones were made out of recycled plumbing pipes.
Thaumaturge Aimery came last, looking as relaxed and smug as ever
in the rich crimson jacket that so we'll complimented his dark skin. He
approached the waiting Emperor Kaito and his convoy of advisers and
chairmen, and they shared a mutually respectful bow.
Dr. Elrand shook his head. Poor young Emperor Kai. He had certainly
been thrown to the lions during his short reign, hadn't he?
A timid knock rattled the door, making Dr. Erland jump.
Look at him—wasting his time with Lunar processions and royal al-
liances that, with any luck, would never be realized. If only Linh Cinder
would stop gallivanting about Earth and space and start following direc-
tions for once.
He stood and shut off the netscreen. All this worrying was going to
give him an ulcer.
In the hallway was a squirrel boy who couldn't have been more than or
twelve or thirteen, with dark hair cut short and uneven. His shorts hung
past his knees and were frayed at hems and his sandaled feet were
coated in the fine sand that covered everything in this town.
He was holding himself too tall, like he was trying to give the impres-
sion that he wasn't at all nervous, not one little bit.
"I have a camel for sale. I heard you might be interested." His voice
trembled on the last word.
Dr. Erland dropped his spectacles to the end of his nose. The boy was
scrawny, sure, but he didn't appear malnourished. His dark skin looked
healthy, his eyes bright and alert. Another year or so, and Erland sus-
pected he'd be the taller of the two of them.
"One hump or two?" he asked.
"Two." The boy took in a deep breath. "And it never puts."
Erland tilted his head. He had had to be careful about who he told this
code language to, but news seemed to be spreading quickly, even into
neighboring oasis towns. It was becoming common knowledge that the
crazy old doctor was looking for Lunars who would be willing to help
him with some experimentation, and that he could pay them for their
assistance.
Of course, the spreading knowledge of his semi-celebrity status, com-
plete with Commonwealth want ads, hadn't hurt either. He thought
many people who came to knock on his door were merely curious about
the Lunar who had infilrated the staff of a real Earthen palace ... and
who had the true celebrity, Linh Cinder, escape from prison.
YOU ARE READING
Cress
Teen FictionTheir best hope lies with Cress, a girl trapped on a satellite since childhood who's only ever had her netscreens as company. All that screen time has made Cress an excellent hacker. Unfortunately, she's being force to work for Queen Levana, and she...
