This is how it should have ended the night of the ball, Levana whispered. This is how it should be. She smiled a mad womans smile and stared at the place where the gun pressed against Cinders damp skin.

Cinder remembered the night clearly, like a nightmare shed never forget. Levana had controlled her arm, forcing her to take Jacins gun and hold it against her temple. Cinder had been sure she was going to die, but her cyborg programming had saved her.

It would not save her this time.

Good-bye, niece.

Cinder could not take back her own arm, but her body burned with resolve. She would keep her finger from squeezing the trigger. She would not let Levana pull it. She would not.

The finger twitched. Throbbed, torn between two masters. Such a tiny limb. A tiny, tiny finger.

The rest of her willpower tightened around Levanas own hand. She could feel the bioelectricity sizzling in the air between them. She listened to the crackle of energy. There was an ebb and flow to their strengths and their weaknesses. Cinder would think she was making progress, curling Levanas finger inward, only to feel her own finger twitch against her control. A drop of sweat tickled the inside of her elbow. A stray hair clung to her lips. The smell of iron assaulted her nostrils. Every sense was a distraction. Every moment she could feel herself growing weaker.

But Levanas brow was drawn too. Levana was sweating too, her face contorted with the strain. They were both struggling for breath, and then

A snap cracked loud inside Cinders head.

She gasped, and her hand dropped to her side. Her muscles ached from the strain, but they were her muscles again. She gulped down a breath, dizzy from the effort.

Levana sobbed with frustration. Her body sagged. Fine. Fine. I surrender. She spoke so quietly, Cinder wasnt sure shed heard right. Though she was still controlling Levanas hand and still had the gun poised at Levanas temple, the queen seemed to have forgotten it was there. Her face crumpled, her body wilting into the enormous gown. I relinquish my crown to you, my country, my throne. Take it all. Just just let me be. Let me have my beauty again. Please.

Cinder studied her aunt. Her scars and her matted hair and her sealed-shut eyelid. Her trembling lip and defeated shoulders. She was too exhausted for even her glamour. Too weak to fight anymore.

A shock of pity stole through her.

This miserable, awful woman still had no idea what it meant to be truly beautiful, or truly loved.

Cinder doubted she ever would.

She gulped, though it was difficult around her parched tongue.

I accept, Cinder said, dazed. She kept hold of Levanas trigger finger but allowed Levana to lower the gun. Cinder held out her hand and Levana stared at it for a moment before reaching forward and setting the gun into Cinders palm.

In the same movement, she grabbed the forgotten knife and lurched forward, driving the blade into Cinders heart.

The breath left her all at once, like her lungs imploding on themselves. Like a lightning bolt striking her from her head to her toes. Shock exploded through her chest and she fell backward. Levana fell with her, her face tight with rage. She had both hands on the knife handle now and when she twisted it, every nerve in Cinders head exploded with agony. The world went foggy, vague, blurred in her vision.

Instinct alone prompted her to raise the gun and fire.

The blast knocked Levana away. Cinder didnt see where the bullet had gone, but she saw a line of blood arc across the back of the throne.

Her vision glazed over, all white and dancing stars. Her body was pain and blackness and hot and sticky with blood. Stars. It wasnt just in her head, she realized. Someone had painted stars on the throne room ceiling. A galaxy spread out before her.

In the silence of space, she heard a million noises at once. Faraway and inconsistent. A scream. A roar, like an angered animal. Pounding footsteps. A door crashing against a wall.

Her name.

Muddled. Echoing. Her lungs twitched, or maybe it was her whole body, convulsing. She tasted blood on the back of her tongue.

A shadow passed in front of her. Brown eyes, filled with terror. Messy black hair. Lips that every girl in the Commonwealth had admired a thousand times.

Kai looked at her, the wound, the knife handle, the blade still buried. She saw his mouth forming her name. He turned and screamed something over his shoulder, but his voice was lost to herso loud, but far, far, far away.

Ninety-One

I told you, Im fine, Scarlet insisted, though her tone was weary. Its just been a really long few months.

Fine? milie screeched. By the way her eyes blurred and her blonde curls took up the screen, Scarlet could tell that the waitressthe only friend she had back in Rieuxwas holding her port far too close to her face. You have been missing for weeks! You were gone during the attacks, and then the war broke out, and I found those convicts in your house and thennothing! I was sure you were dead! And now you think you can send me a comm and ask me to go throw some mulch on the garden like everything is is fine?

Everything is fine. LookIm not dead.

I can see youre not dead! But, Scar, you are all over the news down here! Its all anyone will talk about. This this Lunar revolution, and our little Scarling in the center of it all. Theyre calling you a hero in town, you know. Gilles is talking about putting up a plaque in the tavern, about how Rieuxs own hero, Scarlet Benoit, stood on this very bar and yelled at us all, and were so proud of her! milie craned her head, as if that would allow her to see more in Scarlets background. Where are you, anyway?