The Lunar crown was a delicate silver thing, all swirling lines and interlocked curves, with small leaf-and-star motifs around the edges – a combination of earth and heavens. A belly-up crescent moon was poised in the centre, rising up over the gleaming metalwork like an all-seeing eye.
All throughout the coronation, Cinder tried to imagine wearing it on her head. Her mother had worn it, and Jannali before her, all the way back to Cyprus Blackburn's queen – and now it would pass to her. Like it was natural. Like this wasn't the fabled Lunar crown for nightmare Lunar sovereigns, like she hadn't been fearing them all her life as Earthens rightfully did.
She drained the golden chalice of its gruesome contents. She spattered a drop of her own blood into an ornate marble bowl. She accepted the scepter and great white cloak, laid across her shoulders like the snowy weight of Luna.
And then the vows, pulled from some place deep in her chest, where the long-ago Princess Selene whispered quietly under her breath.
She could feel the chains forming. Growing, linking together, bringing her closer to the throne with every promise she made.
Binding her, as if she weren't already bloodbound.
Cinder lifted her face to the assembled crowd. The Lunars kneeled and praised her with words centuries old, their chants filling the throne room. Amid the countless aristocrats and citizens, she couldn't see a single familiar face – but there! In the front row was Winter, a proud smile lighting up her face; by her side, Jacin in the guards' uniform, eyes narrowed as if daring Cinder to mess this up; Cress, blue eyes wide with hope … and faith …
A sad smile touched Cinder's lips. There is no Princess Selene, she wanted to tell them. But no one would have heard. The crowd's chants were deafening.
.
"Look at me."
Levana did not lift her cheek from the cold marble. She closed her eyes, turning her face away as Selene came to crouch at her side.
She had been numb for so long. The last tears she'd cried were … oh, years ago. The night Evret was killed. After that she had felt like stone, nothing at all to stir the blank need for Earth, except for the growing dread of the past few months. The power she'd so painstakingly compiled, decade after decade, had been slipping through her fingers, and Levana wasn't fool enough to think it was coincidence.
Her people, her army, her throne. Gone, out of her reach. The girl had taken it all from her one by one, taken what was woven in Levana's blood and breath, the essence of her being.
Queenship.
Without it, Levana was nothing. Nothing at all.
She heard Selene shift closer. A hand fluttered tentatively at her hair. "… why do you hide?"
That stupid little girl. Why couldn't she stay dead? After everything Levana had done to kill her and keep her own throne safe, why had they come to this anyway?
"Do it," she hissed, pressing the scarred side of her face into the floor. "It would be a mercy."
A silence. Then Selene murmured, "Your glamour. I … I felt something snap."
Yes. Yes, it had.
Insult to injury, salt in the wound. Selene had broken her gift.
It lay in Levana's mind like a useless strand of DNA, a dead and crumpled vine twisting around her thoughts. The gift, the glorious beauty that was hers by right – it had been her armour, her weapon, her sanctuary, and Princess Selene had ripped it apart.
Ripped her apart.
She made no move to stop Selene as she pushed back the hair that shielded Levana's face, peered closer – and fell backwards with a cry.
Levana let loose a dark chuckle. Trembling with the effort, she braced her elbows on the floor and pushed herself into a sitting position, her face turned into the light. The voluminous white gown she wore puddled around her like an Earthen cloud, innocent and lovely, except it was marred by bloodstains. One of the sleeves hung torn off her shoulders.
Selene stared at her with horrified eyes. She lifted one hand slightly as if to shield herself; her lips moved without sound, trying to form words that would justify something like this.
She was completely unscarred. Smooth, healthy skin, with no sign of the destruction fire had surely wrought upon it.
Why? Channary had pushed Levana into the flames out of petty cruelty and left her little sister marred forever; yet when Levana had killed Selene to secure Luna's future, the three-year-old had healed and grown up and come back to wreak vengeance tenfold.
Injustice. Absolute and eternal injustice.
Finally, Selene whispered, "How?"
Levana looked at her with dead eyes. "Channary did this, dearest niece. Your mother."
A terrible sort of understanding lit up the girl's face. She didn't even seem surprised. Instead, as she gazed upon the scars – Levana's deepest secret, her lifelong shame – her eyes filled with something far worse.
Pity.
"I'm not going to kill you."
"If you're as merciful as you've told Luna you are," Levana snarled, "you would end my suffering."
Selene's plain brown eyes flashed. "Oh? You don't think you should suffer any more?"
Before Levana could blink, they were almost nose to nose, something like true hatred seeping into her niece's voice.
"Why shouldn't you suffer," she said softly, "when you have caused more death and misery and heartbreak than you could ever comprehend? Would you like to hear the names of the people who died of the plague? Shall I tell you about the kind people slaughtered by your monsters?" Her voice rose, growing furious. "Why shouldn't you suffer, when you killed and tortured and enslaved anyone who got in your way, when you terrorized an entire planet to get your throne and it still wasn't enough?"
Levana shook her head slowly and lay back down, all the strength drained from her limbs. She didn't care; she hardly even heard. There was nothing left.
And Selene saw it. She saw the dead thing in the fallen queen. Pulling back, her gaze cooling into something sad, she got to her feet.
But instead of killing her or walking away, she met Levana's eyes once more.
"What have you been telling yourself all these years? That what you did would unite Earth and Luna? That it was all for their own good?" A rueful shake of the head. "You'll go down in history as a tyrant and a power-hungry dictator, with the blood of millions of Earthens on her hands. Don't deceive yourself. Look at your reflection, and see what you really are."
"I haven't been," Levana whispered into the floor, staring into nothing. "That's the point."
.
Queen Camilla proceeded toward the crystalline dais, looking a bit disgruntled at being chosen to officiate the ceremony. In her hands she held a cushion, and on it, the crown. Seeing its crescent moon wink at her, Cinder swallowed.
Her interface began running visions past her – a thousand different moments branded into her memory.
Cress's hysterical face on that netscreen, turning Cinder away from freedom and back to the ball. Back to Kai.
The misty rain in the garden, the rough cobblestone against her cheek. The empty feeling in her ankle.
You're even more painful to look at than she is.
Peony in her shimmering dress, sweet as an angel, spinning around in the dust.
… ashes, ashes …
.
"People of Luna!"
The maid's fingers stilled on the buttons of Winter's dress. Slowly, they pulled back and looked at one another.
"My name is Selene Blackburn."
The princess threw back her chair and lunged for the balcony, blood singing. Her hands jerked painfully on the sliding door, and then she was out in the air, looking into the sparkling sky of the dome. The maid was right behind her, for once unconcerned with propriety; her eyes filled with shock as the message echoed around the palace.
Winter was gripped the balcony's railing, rooted to the spot.
Selene Blackburn.
She did not need the name to know who it was. The recognition was buried deep, the memories frayed and barely more than a dream, but that voice resounded in Winter like a familiar bedtime story. Long forgotten, but remembered still.
All of Luna was ringing with a message from its long-lost daughter.
Winter let out a sob. Whirling toward the maid, ignoring the girl's squeak of surprise, she wrapped her into a warm embrace and let the happy tears fall.
She let them fall, and let herself hope.
I have returned, and I am here to take back what's mine.
The lost princess had risen from the ashes.
Levana's days were already numbered.
.
This was a victory. Cinder might be trading freedom for her inheritance, but she could do good things as Luna's queen. She could start undoing the damage Levana had done. It didn't matter whether it suited her; this was her responsibility.
Yet weeks ago, in her own small act of defiance, Cinder had chosen a simple black dress for the coronation. Gray was the colour of funerals on Luna, so what did they care? No one had to know she was in mourning.
.
"My dear girl, you are Princess Selene."
She looked like she'd been struck with a hammer. "What?"
Dr. Erland couldn't suppress his excitement. The time had come at last. Finally this girl would know who she was; finally she could be set on her rightful path. Placing a hand over hers, he said emphatically, "You are Princess Selene."
"I don't …" A mess of thoughts flashed across her face – surprise, confusion, disbelief. "What?"
He sighed. And began to explain her rather extraordinary situation. It felt rather odd to be telling someone about herself, about her destiny, but the growing incredulous look in Cinder's eyes made it clear that his position was nowhere near as peculiar as hers.
That was all right. She'd get over the shock. She had to.
And yet, the outrage in her voice – "Reinstate me as queen?!" – made him think that maybe this girl wasn't quite Selene.
Dr. Erland left the prison cell with the feeling that this was a gamble with very long odds. Cinder might not be able to reach him in Africa. She might not escape from the prison. She might not even accept the revelation, let alone overthrow Queen Levana.
Somehow, though, he was calm. He submitted his resignation to the EC government and walked out with a confident stride, spurred on by a curious sense of faith.
.
Cinder knelt as Camilla came to the top step of the dais. The UK queen grasped the crown and tossed the cushion aside, her gray eyes cutting into hers. Suspicious.
It was all too easy to remember who Cinder had once been.
Cyborg, mechanic, outcast. An invisible girl in a very big city. Unaware of her heritage, of her terrifying bloodline, staring up at the New Beijing palace like any other citizen and wondering about those who lived up there. Averting her gaze whenever it snagged on the moon.
Not expecting anything out of life, except maybe to run away to Europe and leave her adopted family behind.
Not destined for anything at all.
.
The girl's eyes fluttered open for the first time in eight years.
Michelle approached cautiously. "… Cinder?" she asked softly, using the false name, aware that everyone in the operation was watching from the edges of the room. "How do you feel?"
Selene didn't seem to hear. She shut her eyes tight and groaned quietly. The retina scanner would be booting up, running diagnostics, sending green text along the bottom of her vision. For many minutes, she just lay there, twitching, until the head surgeon gave the okay and Michelle helped her sit up.
"I hurt," Selene slurred, absentmindedly accepting Michelle's offered hand. She half-fell, half-slid off of the operating table, her metal leg dragging her down like a sea anchor. "It … where …"
Linh Garan hurried forward. "I know it's confusing," he said soothingly, taking Selene's other hand – the metal one. "Come, my dear. You'll be staying with me for a while. You see, there's been an accident …"
Michelle watched her hobble away, helped up the ladder by a host of surgeons and mechanics, and felt a twang of worry. She could see nothing of the princess in those brown eyes. The Lunar heir, now eleven years old, seemed to have vanished into the body of an ordinary Earthen child.
What if Selene Blackburn was entirely gone? Erased, forgotten, never to challenge her tyrannical aunt?
There wasn't anything any of them could do about it. The little girl had been almost dead when Logan had brought her to the Benoit farm and begged his old lover for help. The cyborg operation was the only thing that might have saved her.
All they could do was hope that none of this would be in vain, and that Linh Cinder would be strong enough for what lay ahead.
.
But even though her old self was a part of her, Cinder knew she had changed.
She was the heir to the Lunar throne, moonlight racing through her blood and a mind as strong as her fist. An open heart, head held high, shoulders thrown back and strong. One who didn't need formal gowns or a palace to know her place.
Even as her stepmother's ward, even as a reviled cyborg, she had never apologized for what she was.
I am Selene, she thought, quite calmly. This is my crown. Linh Cinder will never disappear, for she and Princess Selene are one and the same.
At this moment, she did not feel like either. She felt – new. Sharper, like a honed blade. Fiery as a phoenix risen from the ashes, calm as a starry night.
She was not a helpless little girl anymore.
.
They were princesses in a tower, shielded in a little alcove on the top level of the playhouse – hiding from monsters. Winter's sweet face was cast in shadow, but her eyes sparkled as she told Selene about the fairy tales. How the girl in question was usually saved by a prince.
The two of them could be different, Selene agreed. They could save themselves.
Voices drifted in from outside the nursery. Winter backed meaningfully away from the blankets that hid them. There's a dragon out there who wants to gobble us up.
Selene held a finger to her smiling lips. Shhh. If we're really quiet, it won't even know we're here.
They met each other's eyes and burst into a fit of giggles. Neither of them knew why the other was laughing, only that there was something very funny about it all.
"… not the queen. I am merely watching over the throne until my niece is older."
The words meant nothing to Selene; she would not remember them. But the voice, now clearer, spoke a quiet threat in her mind. The laughter drained away.
Winter looked at her, confused, and pulled back a corner of the blanket. They pressed their faces together and peeked out into the nursery.
The woman was there – the tall, graceful woman who wore the silver crown. The one whose dark eyes and musical tones made Selene think of witches, oh-so-kind just before they got you in your sleep. Selene wasn't sure who the woman was, or if she was really evil, but she knew she didn't like her.
The nanny bowed, head down, as the cold woman explained that Winter had an appointment with the doctor.
Winter hugged her disappointed friend and climbed down the ladder. Selene shifted to her stomach, peeking out from behind the blankets again, and found herself meeting the cold woman's stare. Warning bells went off in her head.
I'm not afraid of you, she thought fiercely.
The woman looked away. In the doorway, Winter waved a hand at the playhouse and bounced out of view. Selene retreated back into her shady alcove.
A few minutes passed. The soothing cadence of the cold woman's voice continued to waft through the doors, and the nanny did not come back.
Had the witch eaten her?
Then –
"Go now," said the sweet, dangerous voice. "The princess is waiting."
Selene peeked out again, not knowing if she should be afraid or not, and saw the girl walking back toward her with something glowing in her hands.
And the little princess did not see the cold woman run. She did not take notice of the blank look in the nanny's eyes.
She just watched the candle in fascination, watched it flicker and pulse. Mysterious.
The nanny climbed up the ladder into the playhouse, holding it in one hand. A bit of the wispy warm thing caught the blankets, and not a heartbeat had passed before more of it was creeping up the fabric.
Selene was mesmerized.
.
Fourteen years later.
After a ravaging fire, eight years of sleep, and a cyborg operation that had cost her 36.28% of her human body – after fourteen years and a lifetime, the cold woman was dead, and Luna was free.
And the crown was placed upon Queen Selene's head.
The chants began again, echoing through the hall, through the palace, through Artemisia. Maybe, if an Earthen listened carefully, they could look up into the sky and hear voices rising off the moon.
Alone on the dais, Linh Cinder closed her eyes.
Long live the queen! Long live the queen!
This was an ending of sorts, yes. An end to the dreams and hopes of an ordinary girl.
Long live Queen Selene Blackburn! Let her reign be long; let her kingdom prosper. Let the stars shine upon her.
But was she really chained? Or would this throne set her free?
Long live the queen.
There were ghosts around her, other speakers of the vows. Others who had stood in this very spot and thought that queenship would take away their worries; or maybe they'd thought it was a tool. Just on the edge of hearing, she sensed the knowing chuckle of a cruel but lovely woman – and by her side, another fair queen, the fairest of all, one with a blackened and shattered heart …
Long live the queen!
Cinder shook them off. She raised the scepter, clutched in her metal hand, and wondered whether the sight of the stars would ever look the same.
LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!