A/N: Dear reader,
Thanks for your patience with updates, uni's been a little hectic - hopefully on top of it again this week. I appreciate all of the reviews I've received from everybody, and hope you're all having a fab day so far.
Yours,
Seraphina
"Someone will probably notice if you slip out of my window and fly away," Jaune said.
Cinder was in the middle of trying to break open said window. The frame was stiff. "You expect me to walk?"
"Just to blend in." He crossed his arms, leant against the wall casual as anything. "Don't go shooting out across the night. Slip down, make your way out through the closest exit in the city. No one will notice you if you look like you belong."
"Please, tell me more about espionage," she drawled. He was right, though. She had kind of just turned up in his bedroom. She did not exactly think of an exit plan.
"Okay, you have me there." He sounded jovial. There was something almost akin to a twinkle in his eye. She thought better of it. He was probably glad to be rid of her.
Find Tyrian, figure out what he wanted and what deal he had struck with the newly minted Summer Maiden. Cinder had a terrible feeling about it. There was no reason to find a new Summer Maiden vessel. Not, at least, in her eyes, when they had a perfectly good Maiden candidate waiting in the wings.
She was going to make her way to Vacuo eventually. Tyrian was preparing the stage for her and Salem, not stealing the show. Something had entered his head, and he had taken matters into his own hands.
He had every reason to find a Summer Maiden who was not also a Fall Maiden. Not especially if he wanted ruin for the sake of ruin. Not especially if he so desperately wanted to please Salem. Tyrian loved her, in his own warped way. He admired Salem, most of all, even more than Cinder had. Salem, the abyss of abysses, never-ending and always listening.
Cinder had protracted the moment enough. She would slip out, and away, and not look back again. They were always leaving each other.
She had one foot out the narrow slit of the window, and he said, over her shoulder, "I'm pretty sure this is what teenagers get up to, you know."
She turned back to look. "Is that so?"
"Yeah, sneaking out when you're meant to be in bed," he said. He scratched the back of his head, and sort of let out an awkward chuckle. "And you're not really meant to be in my room."
"You weren't meant to be in my room to begin with. You started it."
"Did you just turn that back on me?"
"Obviously," she said. She rolled her eye. "I think this was meant to be subtle. Holding a conversation with one foot out the window is not subtle."
"Right. Of course." He huffed out one of those strange laughs, sort of coy, unsure. She took one last look. She tried not to awkwardly savour it. Still, his hair was pretty, flaxen and long, and he was watching his feet, his downcast lashes fair. That was enough, now.
Maiden fire from her eye framed her vision. It was like everything had a halo of fire. She glided down the side of the ziggurat, its monumental facade giving way to her hand dragging behind her. It was not long until her feet broached the sand, and she could navigate the hanging gardens to break free from the school's boundary. Not that it had very much, other than the false greenery kept afloat by precious Dust.
She would have to walk some of the way, and tried to make quick work of it. It was dimly amusing to her that if you really wanted to get away with something, you just had to pretend to belong. She strode through as if she were a regular Huntress, not even hiding her face with a hood. Nobody looked twice her way, if they saw her, and her hair was longer and her clothes different enough it was not immediately apparent who she was. Cinder Fall, Fall Maiden, harbinger of Huntsman academies, bringer of cruel destiny. Otherwise she was just a woman.
The last terrace of the hanging gardens was behind her. A fierce gale blew, bringing with it sand in her eyes. She called silently on the Maiden power to redirect it, the wind warping around her. Sometimes she wondered how far the power could be pushed. If its only limit was imagination. If a warrior had only ever known an axe for its ability to kill, they would never know its potential to cut down a tree. If rope had only ever been used to hang, would it be known how to braid it for decoration? Not that it mattered to Cinder. But the idea sometimes struck her, curiously. She had an academic mind for it.
The same as the bond. It may have been fraught with animosity, but she was still intrigued by it, if left to her thoughts. It was only possible because of the calcified, monstrous growth on her arm. The open hole in her soul which he had stitched and mended. He could never leave well enough alone. Now that he had done it, she noticed the difference. The fatigue she had attributed to the Fall of Beacon and Ruby's attack on her; her fight with Raven; the long haul from the very bottom of the Haven Vault to the peak of Atlas; she had assumed it had all simply got to her. That eventually Cinder would wear to the bone, and it would happen sooner rather than later. That she would overcome it anyway, and Salem believed in her enough to know she would transcend the mortal weakness of her body.
She had not felt tired in weeks, slept soundly. She ate well, though food always carried the panic of meal times as they used to when she was a girl. But still. She ate, and felt full. She did not feel like she was pushing a rock up a hill in perpetuity. What did it give him? To her, it made her feel whole again, even if the arm pained her, at times. It felt just a little better, when she had felt run ragged thin.
She would never tell him. It would make her sound sentimental. It would be admitting weakness— that he had asked her to let him heal her, that she had let him, that if she had known of the bond at the time she would have said yes, still. Cinder thought that maybe it would scare her. That enough in her life had been taken from her, and left her with nothing, which she had to make something out of. He frustrated her, and he got in her way, and he confused her, but she wanted this.
She was in Vacuo, now, anyway, because of him. It was better than being at Salem's. She was going to have to return soon enough, but she would divine what Tyrian was doing. One of the old king's crypts was rather an obvious and inelegant place a base. Not that Cinder really had an eye for history. She finally hit open desert and double-checked her scroll. She could probably fly from here on out.
"Tell me what's going on with Jaune, or I go back there and tell everybody what you're doing."
Cinder whipped around. Out from thin air, but no apparition, Emerald was there. She was always so silent. She hardly needed her Semblance for that, but Cinder had no doubt she had slipped it in just a bit.
"What are you doing?" she hissed. She searched around for any passersby. The distant sound of the hanging gardens— decorative fountain, desert resistant trees— was the only noise to be heard.
"Tell me," Emerald said again, but her voice rattled just a bit, enough to give away that she was scared of Cinder.
Of course she was scared of her. That was exactly what Cinder had tried to instil in her, yet Emerald expected that she could return some sort of platonic affection. That was not in the deal. That had never been in the deal.
"You need to go," Cinder snapped. She clenched both fists.
"Is Jaune working with you?"
Cinder did not know how to answer that. Emerald was in no position to try for leverage. Yet. Cinder said, "You left. You shouldn't be following me. You're free. You're with them."
"And you're with Jaune! I heard you in his room and I saw you leave it!"
"You heard?!"
"I was eavesdropping. I was gonna ask about the sword you gave him."
Cinder stopped cold. "But I hadn't used it in so long. How did you know?"
"You're not even denying it," Emerald said, and shook her head. "This is crazy. This is actually crazy. You gave him your sword. You left his room! I don't get it!"
"What are you really doing out here?" Cinder demanded. "Certainly not to come back with me."
Emerald crossed her arms, and the look she sent her was insistent. "You know where Mercury is."
"You're going back for him," Cinder said, pulling back. She shook her head. "You came out here on a suicidal mission for Mercury. You hated him!"
"I don't think you're really one to talk."
"That's different," Cinder hissed. She turned around. Like she was going to finish this conversation.
"I could call the others right now and they'd all know you're here."
Cinder stopped.
"I could tell them about what's going on with you and Jaune, and then you'd both really be in it… if you… care about that?"
She could not say anything in reply. Like she cared about his repercussions for consorting with her. Like Emerald could find her way to where Tyrian was and convince him that, what, Cinder had turncoated, just like Emerald?
No. That was ridiculous.
Cinder had something better. "You want Mercury back? Fine. Come with me. See if I care. When Tyrian decides to gut you, it won't be any of my business. I will not help you."
"You didn't even help me before," Emerald spat.
"Mercury won't go with you."
"I don't care."
"You'll be killed."
"I don't care!"
Cinder pretended to relent. "Fine. Follow me, then. If you manage not to fall behind."
If it went awry, she could at least count on one other person with her. It was just like old times. Cinder almost felt nostalgic.
Just when she had turned to make her tedious way across the desert, Emerald said, "And that's it? Nothing else? No catch?"
"I'm in a conciliatory mood," Cinder snapped.
"Wow. He really has had an effect on you."
She whirled back around and said, lowly, deadly, "Do not mention him."
"I don't have to take orders from you now, you know."
"Good," Cinder said. "Finally, you've surpassed me. Now leave me alone."
Emerald trailed behind her. Cinder floated on flame through the night. After some time she began to grew tired of the speed. She would go faster if she carried Emerald.
"It will take some time if we walk," Cinder began.
Emerald groaned. "You're going to offer to carry me, aren't you."
"That, or you can turn around."
They had flown in awkward silence, Emerald on her back, until they reached the necropolis. She set Emerald down, both of them avoiding eye contact. There were too many crypts to count. Besides which, Mercury's ping was not accurate to the metre. She would have to guess which was the crypt they needed.
It was probably the big one.
She turned to Emerald. Torchlight flickered and cast her in troubled shadow and light.
"What exactly do you expect to happen down there?"
Emerald was not looking back at her. Once, Cinder had offered her food and housing in exchange for her servitude. Emerald had wanted warmth and affection, too, when Cinder could never give it. Now Emerald paid her no mind, no mind at all.
Jaune had been right, and Cinder had dismissed it. She thought it would not matter. But it mattered enough that Emerald had stupidly, lonesomely followed her across the desert on the offchance she might be able to find Mercury. Do what with him, Cinder did not know.
"I only know that I've got once chance right now to get through to him before Tyrian goes too far. And that— the right thing to do is sometimes the hardest thing, but it's the thing that matters," Emerald said.
Cinder scoffed.
"And Hazel wouldn't want this."
"What does Hazel have anything to do with this?"
"Jaune didn't tell you? On the whale, Hazel died so we could get out of there." Emerald shook her head. "But you wouldn't get it. You weren't even there, because you don't really care."
"Stay close and stay quiet," Cinder said in response, ignoring that remark. It did not matter.
Emerald gestured with her hands at herself as if to say: you forget my Semblance already? Cinder had not.
The doorway partition with its tiered opening gave way to a long set of steep stairs, descending into darkness at the bottom. The steps were narrow, her feet only fitting at an angle, so she decided to forego it and hover gently. The fire lit the way, and it carried her. Emerald was not disguising herself yet, and Cinder heard, behind her, where she slipped down each step with fluid ease, keeping up nimbly. Cinder, at least, never had to worry about that with her.
Their descent gave way to a long hall, with vaulted ceilings, reliefs in the walls depicting conquest. Torches and fine statues lined the walls: mysterious chimera, Grimm in moments of defeat. Cinder returned to walking. Her boots clicked on mosaic work, reds and blacks in swirling imagery. It was fine work. Such an effort for those who would never see it. Until now, at least.
The hall gave way to the lead reception of the crypt, and she could see many doorways from the room. Bandit-like dressed figures dotted the room— room was the wrong word, this was larger than a room, or an auditorium, or a hall, it was at least as pronounced as the Vaults the old man had squirrelled away beneath the Huntsman academies. He had taken influence from somewhere, it seemed. It was lit up with more torches and there was pilfered furniture placed around the pillars, holding up the vaunted ceilings up high, with distant smears of colour: blue here, red there, black again, but its image was indistinct. It was a room fit for a king, albeit a dead one.
The vault-like place had fallen silent. Cinder squared her shoulders and waited.
Tyrian, crouched at the centre of the room, twisted his head towards her with no respect for the anatomy of the human neck, the alien movement unsettling. He wore the same outfit as usual, but had a utility belt at his waist which was stuffed with all sorts of paraphernalia she could not discern. His eyes were wide, sickly yellow and totally aware. She had hoped once she would see something displaced, maybe something which suggested he might have known better once. But he was like that, the way he was, and he enjoyed it. It sickened her.
"Our Fall Maiden finally makes her entry," Tyrian said, snapping the silence like a bird's neck.
Emerald, beside her, was frozen and silent. She slipped over behind one of the pillars and stepped inside the carved relief. She had been practising her Semblance. She could manage what she was doing.
Cinder left Emerald behind and stepped closer. Ahead of Tyrian was a woman with pale skin, black hair sat on a makeshift throne, and beside her, a woman with Maiden fire flaring from her golden eyes. She wore something like a chainmail bikini with a bright blue ensemble. It was garish.
"I see you've set your own little kingdom up here, Tyrian," Cinder drawled. She placed a hand on her hip. "What a terrible mess you've made."
"It is not my kingdom, and certainly no mess, not especially compared to the wreck you made of Atlas and Haven," Tyrian said, mocking a bow towards her.
"Atlas was no loss. We have the Relics." In Jaune's drawer, under his bed, but the point remained.
He hummed. "And yet. Salem set you aside as guard-dog after your ward betrayed her, and made one of her finest betray her, too! Yes, yes, how did you enjoy your time away in the tower? Did you learn your lesson, little girl?"
Cinder did not know that was why she was commanded to remain. Tyrian could have been lying. But he rarely lied, and most of the time she had a horrible feeling that he only told the truth. Most of all, he knew how much she hated being called little girl.
"Emerald was not my ward," she said, and she knew she had lost at that, because Tyrian grinned.
"Let us not meditate so much on our follies. Come, now, meet the queen of Vacuo." He gestured to the woman at throne. "Kneel, then."
"I'm not kneeling, and I don't care about her," Cinder said. "Whatever you've cooked up here is embarrassing."
But Tyrian did not reply, the woman on the poorly put together throne did. "Kneel."
"No," Cinder said, and she could not keep the offense out of her tone. She had been made to kneel many times before. She would not do so now.
"She said kneel," said the Maiden.
"And I'm not listening," Cinder said.
"Wow, alright, you're a piece of work."
There was an echo of titters and laughs. The peanut gallery was watching with rapt awe. They were a motley crew, maybe twenty or thirty, a would-be queensguard if they had dressed better, maybe with polished armour. She thought of that sand-buried set she had returned to its owner. Somehow it had still gleamed, even set beneath the ground, discarded.
Cinder still yet said nothing. She watched the pair of women, baleful. So these were the two Jaune had seen. No doubt connected to that business he had been going on about: the Crown, or whoever they were. The lustful squabbling in the dark for some measure of power, like rats. They had struck gold, though: Tyrian offered the Maiden power on a platter, and here sat the Summer Maiden, with her would-be queen.
"Do you think we should give you a pass because you're that crazy Fall Maiden we've heard so much about?" said the Summer Maiden. Cinder thought her name might have been Carmine. Carmine called her crazy. Cinder wanted her head on a pike.
"Tell me, what have you heard?" Cinder leant to the side on one foot. She tried to affect casual, but her senses were on high alert. Tyrian was sloppy, but he could snap at a moment's notice. Mercury, beside him, had been quiet and unmoving until then, when he narrowed his eyes at her. He sensed her unsettlement.
"That you're crazy, duh. I'm Carmine, by the way, the Summer Maiden. This is Gillian, our queen," said Carmine. "So do you want me to show you what another Maiden can do or are you gonna kneel?"
"I've fought other Maidens before," Cinder sneered. She did not mention that Raven beat her, or Penny. Or that her fight with Winter was a draw.
So she did not have the best track record, big deal.
Carmine said, "You here for mine?"
"It's barely yours. I doubt you're even that practised."
"What's to practise?" She laughed, high and short. "It's just magic. It makes stuff go boom. Nothing more complicated than that."
Cinder's hand trembled. It was everything. It was all she had ever wanted, to put between her and the rest of the world, and it was the memory of something greater. To her, anyway. The world before all this.
Cinder wanted it so much her vision nearly went white when thought about it. The Summer Maiden before her did not even realise what it was she possessed.
So she said, "It's much more than that. But I suppose you must know little enough about it in this sick exchange of power. You know whom he serves?" She gestured with her head towards Tyrian.
"I know all I need to know. That these Maiden powers are one step away from me wandering the desert, wounded and forgotten, and one more step away from my partner, who hunts me. I know that Jillian will make a good queen, now she's out of that wretched prison, and this is the beginning of setting things right…" Cinder tuned out for a moment as she caught Mercury roll his eyes. He had surely heard what Carmine was going on about before. Cinder's speeches were not as bad as this. At least, she thought so. She tuned back in to hear, "…and this master of yours, Salem, she wants the Relic? We get Vacuo, she can have the rest of the world, if she wants it. I don't care for it much."
"Carmine," said the would-be queen gently.
"Yes, Gillian," Carmine said. She inclined her head.
They had worked with bandits, thieves. Cinder had kept a tight lid on Roman. Now she was stuck working with monarchists. Just her luck. She had liked few of her ostensible co-workers.
"So, I imagine you intend to skirmish the school?" Cinder said, gesturing to others gathered in the room. "The Vaults are secured by the headmasters, a product of the old man's paranoid protection. You can't just take over and expect to break out with a Relic. Unfortunately, you'll need Theodore's cooperation."
Tyrian had crossed his arms, his scorpion tail sashaying. "There's a plan in place. Until you showed up, things were going as expected. Only the White Fang has been mildly troublesome, wasteful do-gooders."
Cinder raised her good brow. "Really. The prison break was not particularly subtle."
"Yes, well, if the boy and Emerald weren't loitering, then we would have simply not been seen. Vacuo is careless," Tyrian said.
The boy. She knew well whom he referred to. What had he even been doing, walking out at night alone? Emerald and her terrible habit of eavesdropping and stalking. That made Cinder curl her lip just a bit. Emerald, who was listening to this whole conversation and would probably, very likely, feed it to the rest of that wretched gang.
As it happened, Cinder would inevitably end up spilling most of this to Jaune. It was not like it would be difficult for them to figure out, anyway. Salem wanted a Relic, Tyrian was here to secure a Relic. They had the Summer Maiden working for them, with her own motives.
"So you intend to pose as students, then?" Cinder tried.
"Nothing so banal as your Beacon plan."
"It worked," she snapped.
"Hm, the eye and the arm might say otherwise," he said, and chortled with glee. "For a stretched definition of working, though, perhaps we could say it did indeed work."
Cinder twitched. She did not know what that meant, not at all. Tyrian was toying with her. Because he did not need her; he had a new Maiden vessel, and what good was she, until Beacon's Relic had been found?
Her heart dropped low in her chest. Jaune had been close enough to worrying about the other Maidens, what these Semblance hoarders might want. Now she had marched in here to see what Tyrian wanted.
Tyrian had wanted to eliminate her for a long, long time. Those murderous, beady eyes, peering at her like meat. The only thing protecting her right now was the lie Salem was awake. But Salem had kept her in Evernight, even after their success at Atlas. As silent, unmentioned punishment, it seemed. Maybe Tyrian thought that he would do additional good in their master's graces. That he could solve the problem of Cinder Fall.
Cinder wanted the Summer Maiden power. She was not sure if she could pull another Vernal, though that had failed, too.
Now the Summer Maiden might want to try Cinder's tactic on her. She flicked her focus from Tyrian to Carmine. She was quiet, viper-like in her frozen position. Anything Cinder needed to know, she knew immediately from that look. The only reason she had not decided to kill Cinder was because it would be too messy. What Tyrian or Salem wanted meant nothing to her. She wanted this power the way Cinder did.
Gillian, straight-backed and lacking any hesitation in her own gaze, either, prisoner-queen, spared Cinder little mind. Her motives were less clear. Cinder knew not much of the Crown business in Vacuo, just that this was a second attempt, a crawling back from the shadows after failure. How sweet. A redemption story.
"Why did Salem send you here?" Tyrian purred.
"Whyever would you question her?"
"That's not an answer."
"Because Vacuo is next, and the Beacon Relic is still unfound. You still won't tell me what you're doing, or do you not need help?"
"We need no help," he said. "It's all very straightforward. I help these madams here, we figure out what makes the headmaster tick. The previous Summer Maiden's death, rest her soul, put nobody on high alert; certainly not Gillian's rescue; I would say the headmaster cares very little, and—" at this point, Tyrian growled, "Ozma's clearly failing in his task to make him care, but I suppose, if you want to stay at a job for a long time and retire, you've really got to love what you do." Then he laughed. "They have the Winter Maiden, of course, so they think themselves impenetrable, but now we have a very excited and talented Summer, aaaaaaand… you."
"Me," Cinder snapped.
"You who lost against Raven, Penny, and Winter… so not particularly promising." He laughed again, but this time harder, pointing at her too.
Deep down she was afraid, but anger coated it, bitter acid in her stomach.
"Maidens?" Carmine said, leaning forward, interested. "Ah, so you said you fought them. Not that you won."
"Winter was a draw," she choked out.
"Let's hope you and I don't come to fisticuffs, hm? I would hate to see that outfit you've got on ruined— oh wait, yes, I would, because it's atrocious. What's with the silver armour over only one arm? And the skirt? Where did you even get it?"
"I made it," she said, taking a step forward. Like all her other plans, it was not going the way she thought it would. The armour protected her Grimm arm. No Aura would cover it. Though it did not pain her as it did, only when Salem controlled it, it was still like a sore, open wound. She did not like judgement for it.
"You made it? That's so homely," Carmine said. "Well, maybe you can improve it next time. The top is a bit much. High-necked? Is blue really your colour?"
"Yes," she snapped. Her scar was covered. The brooch she had pinned at her hip, blue and purple, had been with her for a long time. It was hers. The same way the bond was. Nobody else's. No one could take it. "Is there any purpose to this?"
"No, no, just amusing myself. So you're gonna help us with Vacuo, huh? We need to start amassing numbers again. I gotta tell you, we got taken down by a bunch of students and— well, you know how families can be, things got complicated. If you don't piss me off and maybe dress better, we could actually be friends."
"She doesn't know how families can be," Tyrian added, helpfully. "She's an orphan."
"That's so sad," Carmine said, with mock-empathy.
Cinder did not like that both Tyrian and Watts knew that. She had never told them.
Salem had.
She breathed in, and out. She had let Winter escape with the Maiden power last time, and foregone it for the Relic. She would not fight Carmine now, nor challenge their apparent queen. She would leave, and she would have to use her bond to interrogate Jaune artfully enough until she figured out how to get into the school. Now that she was back in the game, she could not avoid the tactical advantage any longer. She would have to use him. He, whom she had spoken to when she was lonely, when she should have been learning her lesson, like when she was a girl, in the tower.
Horror of horrors, she realised that she did not want to do that. That, in the thinnest veil of darkness, there was a tiny thread of light she wanted to keep. It shook her, more than Tyrian or Carmine, more than any of the mockery.
Maybe she did not have to. She could figure out another way.
She heard a commotion behind her and turned around to catch Emerald being dragged across the mosaic floor. Her Semblance must have faltered. It was no business of hers. Cinder needed to leave, before Carmine made a move. It was her against a room of her people and Tyrian.
But Emerald's eyes were alight with fury, and resignation. Cinder side-stepped as she was tossed to the ground beside her. Tyrian was bouncing now, Carmine and Gillian sharing a cold glance. Emerald was growling get your hands off me like it would do any good. But most interestingly of all: Mercury was horrified.
She had never seen his face so bare.
"What are you doing here?" he hissed. "How the hell do you keep finding me?"
"Now now, boy," Tyrian said, pushing out a hand, as if to calm him, "you have nothing to do with this. This is something Cinder must deal with. Cinder, how did she find her way here?"
"I suspect she followed me," Cinder ground out.
"Really."
"She has a habit of it." Emerald was kneeling and watching Mercury, Mercury watching her. This was very messy indeed. Cinder felt the string of a bow, familiar tension, pulled taut in her hand. It would spring any moment. She may have lost her archer's eye, but she always had her archer's intuition.
"Very convenient that at your much anticipated return, so too you bring she who betrayed us!" Tyrian nodded, agreeing with himself. "How funny. Mercury, tell me, do you think Cinder led her intentionally?"
"I don't know," he said.
"Hm. And what do you think Emerald's punishment for betrayal should be?"
Mercury could not hide the shock on his face. His mouth worked, until he said, "It doesn't matter. We should wait for Salem—"
"Yes, well, our true queen of queens is not here now. I would like to hear your opinion. Teamwork is important, and communicating, listening to one another— it's the very essence of victory. It would be unfair of me to dole out Emerald's punishment without your input. What say you?"
"I say that it doesn't matter," he said. Cinder watched him position his right foot forward, left foot back. If Cinder knew Mercury, and she did, he was in a defensive position.
This was about to get stupid.
"She knows where our base is, Mercury. This is very serious," Tyrian said. "She betrayed Salem. And all thanks to Cinder, I've had you two terrible children to deal with."
"Tyrian," Cinder cautioned, "your base isn't even that hard to find."
"It's the principle of the matter!"
"And this is my family's," Gillian added. Her voice rang out amidst the commotion. "I know you don't know anything about family, so it doesn't matter to you. But it does to me. Now, what is going on with this woman? Why are you here?"
Emerald took in a breath before she spoke. "I'm here for Mercury."
"What?" said he, quietly.
"You didn't come with me last time, and I left… I just— I just wanted you to know I'd come back for you. Before it's too late. Obviously, this didn't exactly go as I planned." She gestured with her head, the goons beside her restraining her arms.
Cinder wanted to agree with her. It did not go how she planned, either.
Gillian and Carmine shared a curious look. Then Gillian said, "Well, you deal with it, Tyrian."
"Just let Cinder choose it," Mercury said. "Right? It's Cinder's fault, she should—"
"No, exactly, it's Cinder's fault she didn't keep her disciplined—" but at that, Tyrian was cut off.
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up," Mercury said.
"She's your enemy, dear boy. She betrayed you. She left you. She's whispered every secret of yours into that thorned rose's ear— everything you held close to you, like your father, your Semblance, your weaknesses and your triumphs…"
"I didn't," Emerald said, shaking her head. "They didn't even know you were here until they figured it out on their own. I asked Jaune to keep it secret, I would never…"
Tyrian turned and hissed at her, "Shut it."
"You shut it!" Mercury snapped. "You're delusional. Emerald's not even a threat. Just let her go. Cinder's right, we aren't subtle here. We've got two Maidens, if they want a fight, they can bring it."
"Let her go?" Tyrian repeated. "Let her? No servant of Salem's goes unpunished! All justice must be meted out fairly, as she would." He smiled, blankly. "I say kill the bitch."
Cinder heard Emerald swear and Mercury pushed up in Tyrian's face, said low, deadly, "Do not call her that."
"Kill her," Tyrian said again.
"No."
"You have to kill her," he insisted. "I want it to be you. To prove you're really loyal. You love being a big boy working for Salem, don't you? Pain and meaning, pain and meaning, come on. Show me you've got it."
Mercury swallowed. His hands were shaking. Cinder had no clue what to do. She could not get Emerald out of here, not without instantly setting off a fight.
It all depended on what Mercury said.
Mercury said, "No."
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"You fight me, you live, she goes. I live, well… you both die," Tyrian said. "Fair? A show for our Vacuo queen. What say you, Queen Gillian?"
Every head turned towards her. "Yes, I think so," her voice rang out.
"Very good! Mercury?"
Cinder saw every emotion war on his face: pain, betrayal, hatred, longing, the whisper of that macho mask she had seen him put on, then finally it resolved, settled on determined. "I'll do it."
"Mercury?!" Emerald shouted. "Are you an idiot?"
"Yes," he said, to her and only her. "I'm kind of sick of him, too. He's been driving me up the wall."
"Oh, because it's about me, isn't it," Tyrian said. "Clear the room! Make a ring!"
Cinder turned to Emerald, for one moment, and she did not know what she saw. A plea, maybe. Cinder could do nothing. She would do nothing.
She decided to float then, to watch from up high, higher than Gillian's throne. She could hardly watch, in fact. She did not want to watch Tyrian tear Mercury to pieces. She leant against one of the pillars, settled herself in. She refused to look at Emerald.
Tyrian circled Mercury. The onlookers had all moved back to allow them the space of the Vault-like place. Or perhaps the Vaults were crypt-like. Cinder did not like how this reminded her of a fight long, long ago, when she was only but fifteen, when Rhodes had found her. She felt like she was that girl again, but this time, Mercury would lose.
He might have won against his own father, but he would not Tyrian. Tyrian was deadlier than deadly, and enjoyed close acquaintance with Salem if only, more than his veneration of her, for his enjoyment of the swift art of murder. He was useful. He rarely had qualms about anything, unlike Cinder, who had to learn to work with others, or like Watts, whose self-interest even at times, in front of Salem, superseded everybody else's. But Tyrian was Tyrian.
Tyrian would kill Mercury, and Cinder supposed that Salem would find another. Carmine seemed amenable enough, but with Vacuo swiftly dealt with, all that was left would be Beacon. It was already in motion. Cinder only needed to watch.
"Come then, boy, fight for your love's freedom," Cinder heard, from up high.
"Would you shut up already—" but Mercury was interrupted by a strike, scorpion-quick. Tyrian's elbow blades were brutish. She did not like the design of them. Mercury had blocked him with an answering kick. It might have been a spar, for how they questioningly moved around one another. Mercury learning from Tyrian, Tyrian watching for his moves. He instructed Mercury when he missed a hit: "No, Mercury, remember: I was only feinting there, you must watch for movement in the hips first."
Emerald was silent. Cinder thought maybe she would be screaming, "No! No!" but she was always hardier and cleverer than that. If she had any sense, she would try to leave, but she had no sense to come in for him. What good was sentiment, in the face of Salem's all-consuming quest? Emerald knew how well they would lose. But then, maybe that was the intention. Was it at all worth fighting for, if not with him by her side, to her reasoning? If you were going to lose, maybe there was only one way worth doing it.
Cinder could appreciate that. For the first time in knowing Emerald, it felt like it was only now she knew her that she was gone. But then Emerald had never really known Cinder, either. Cinder had hurt her. Cinder tensed her jaw. That was all Emerald had needed to know about her: that the world was pain, whether you were in it or you inflicted it. But then Mercury had to do what he was doing, and had upturned everything.
She turned up her lip. Tyrian had socked him in the gut. Mercury had an edge on him for a bit: he was quick, Cinder always knew that, and he held his own when others underestimated him. But Tyrian had that tail, and he had used it to distract Mercury.
By now, his white Aura was flickering. Cinder watched the fight blankly. Would Tyrian stop when it broke? Of course he would not. He intended to kill him. Tyrian passionately cared for Salem's vision, and Emerald did not share that same inclination, even when she worked with Cinder. There was a point he was making. Now he was starting to go a little ballistic; he made a funny face at Mercury, swirling his tongue around. Mercury growled and went for it, earnt a cut to his hips and then his Aura broke. Emerald made a pained noise at that.
More, and more, heavy breaths and Tyrion's tempered and slimy movement gave way to blood. Blood, blood, and more blood. Tyrian delighted in that, laughing like it was a comedy show and not a type of blood sport. Cinder's stomach curdled. She hated that laugh so much. When he tore into the Grimm. When he laughed at her. When he laughed at something Salem had said, something which was not even funny, not at all.
Mercury was going to die. It was not Cinder's problem. Not at all. They had worked together once, and both he and Emerald left in their own ways. Cinder would let this happen, and then watch Emerald be slain next, too. Not even any respect for it, either. Not the way Cinder would do it.
There was more blood on the floor now. Blood spatters were so messy, arteries unpredictable; so few Huntsmen and Huntresses saw fights with one another that went past Aura. Cinder had seen it. It could get all over you, stain clothes for good. It only washed out with salt and cold water, if you were quick.
She found flame giving itself over to her as she lowered herself, unconscious movement she did not even start. It seemed to call to her first. She descended, and descended, the torchlight in the room growing with her.
Mercury was on the floor, and he was trying to crawl, where, Cinder did not know. Maybe vaguely in Emerald's direction, where tears were streaming down her cheeks. No doubt she blamed herself for this. It had been waiting to happen, inevitable as anything, if Cinder had paid attention sooner.
"Poor Mercury," Tyrian said. "I'll let you live a little while I kill the girl, so you can watch." He kicked Mercury. The sound was sick. Boot on flesh.
Cinder felt everybody watching her as she came up behind Tyrian, where he was singing to himself: "And a one and a two and a three and, baby's on board—"
"Stop it," she commanded. She was still taller than Tyrian, on fire, Maiden eye flaring.
"Excuse me?"
Cinder had never seen Tyrian shocked. Mock-offended, perhaps, but nothing like this.
"I told you to stop," she said.
"I'm not stopping," he replied, slowly, stalking towards her, Mercury forgotten about. Emerald was watching her with shock, too, warring with her tears.
This was not the way Cinder had planned it. She was going with it anyway. She could adapt.
"You've done plenty. Now stop."
"No," Tyrian growled. "I don't know if you think you're in charge here, but you're not. You are a facsimile. You are a failure, Cinder. You should have stayed locked up."
"No, I shouldn't have, considering how out of control you are," she snapped. "Mercury's invaluable to Salem. He's a member of her inner—"
"That's not why you stopped me," he said.
"It is."
"No, no, you don't get it. I know you. I know your every desire. I know your every failure! You'll never be more than that little orphan girl, no matter how hard you try. I have a new Maiden vessel. You're as GOOD AS DEAD TO ME!"
The crowd was hesitant, now, backing up against the walls as far as possible. Tyrian was on the warpath; Mercury had not been lying. Emerald had broken free from the cowards who had left her, and was cradling Mercury's bleeding body. Her white and black outfit, so clean and well-cut, now was bloodied.
Tyrian had not spared him, not even a bit. Cinder heard Carmine mutter, "What the hell is going on?" and Gillian beside her said something about power struggles.
Power struggles? Cinder just hated Tyrian's guts.
There was only person who even knew anything about Cinder, and it was decidedly not Tyrian.
Mercury was dying. Emerald would die with him. Cinder did not like this, and did not know what to do. Had she intervened sooner, maybe they could have run away. Would Mercury have gone with her? Of course not. They had no reason to trust her, not especially Emerald.
Mercury needed help. Cinder needed help.
She sidled away from Tyrian, edging until Mercury was behind her.
She silently thought of Jaune. One breath in and one breath out. She tried to think of that feeling she felt when she turned and saw him. Something like surety, or the suggestion of it. Security. The things she would never, ever let herself feel, not until she had all the Maiden power.
When he appeared to her side she nearly cried. It was such a violent rush of relief, pouring through her, down her spine and in her chest, her belly. The tense string of her muscles settled. She could think clearly. His adroit figure, clad in the black she had given him, filled her with a sense of anticipation.
"I need your help," she said, to unseen air.
"I'm not helping you," Tyrian spat, speaking to her as if she were stupid.
But Jaune was determined, already settling his shield at his waist. He must have seen what was left unsaid.
"What's happened?" he said, gently, worried.
"Mercury's dying."
"I know he's dying, that's the point," Tyrian said. "What are you playing at?"
When Cinder did was she was going to do, bedlam would erupt. Gillian and Carmine were unpredictable, but it seemed like they intended to avoid a fight, and the audience was disinterested in witnessing the rest of Tyrian's tantrum.
She would just have to hold Tyrian off until they figured out what to do. If the other Maiden joined in, then she only hoped that she was as uncertain of her powers as she sounded.
She met Jaune's dark-eyed gaze.
"Now?"
She nodded.
She reached out her good hand, the flesh hand, the one that could carry him through Aura. She yanked him through as she summoned a sword to strike at Tyrian. It felt pretty good, if she had to say, the movement singing out inside her, as pronounced as his own presence there, resting and echoing. It made her feel clever. Her ace up her sleeve. Chaos reared its agile head, and she let it.
Tyrian shouted, "What?"
"I've wanted to do this for a long time," Cinder said.
"You'll lose!"
Her sword shattered as it hit Tyrian and she went on anyway. Mercury had worn away at him. She paid no mind to Jaune behind her, or Emerald's shocked gasping, almost becoming a laugh.
Cinder just needed to cover them. She had not done this before; most of the time her struggle was only for survival. An idiot here or there tried joining them but she blasted them with fire, carelessly. Cinder slid across the ground as she narrowly dodged Tyrian's leap.
"What is going on?" Carmine shouted.
"I don't know!" Tyrian yelled back. Cinder kicked him.
"Gillian, get out of here," she heard.
"No, I want to know how she did that," said Gillian.
Tyrian was fluid, and knew her every move. He had seen her train under Salem. It made her angry. She had hated him so, so much, and Salem had always tempered it. She had learn to work with others. It was her greatest weakness. Her second greatest weakness was the simplicity of her failure.
"He's healing Aura?"
Cinder whirred her attention over to Gillian and said, "Don't go near him. I'm dealing with Tyrian, you don't—"
But Tyrian hit her, socking her clean over the head, a dirty move.
"This is untenable, you know." Cinder was not sure who was talking now. Her hearing was ringing. "She turns up and a fight just breaks out, like troglodytes. I say we take the Vault for ourselves…"
"He's manipulating Aura, just like you, Gillian."
Cinder summoned a shield against Tyrian. He flashed his tongue at her.
"I'll have you yet, Fall Maiden!" he taunted.
"But how did she do that?"
Cinder wanted to brag about it, for an ignoble second. He found me when I was dying and now I can do this. She checked on them. Jaune was helping Mercury, no questions asked. Emerald was crying, but not sobbing anymore.
That was Cinder's fatal error, of course. Looking over to him. Thinking of the bond. Being distracted by the Maiden and the queen. Tyrian yanked her by the neck and hooked something to her, she did not know what, but she gasped and tried to wrench it off, in terror.
"Watts said, if she's ever too much trouble, then you need to use this. Salem always had a problem taming you; your leash was too long, your temper unchecked, young Cinder. And now you… perform some type of strange magic to bring through… the boy." Tyrian tutted. "Tell me, did you kill Watts?"
"Of course I did," she gritted out.
"Then squirm," he said simply. Then she felt a shock rock through her. It did not hurt as much as the arm, when Salem channelled her discipline through it. This was the shock collar of old, the one she could think past, if she tried; if it had not taken her aback, then. Her own screams were not clear to her ear, but they were familiar.
He knew, then. Tyrian knew as much as Salem knew, and Salem knew enough. She had confided in her, after she had been saved by her. She had thought Salem would keep it secret, but Watts had known. Tyrian knew. Because they needed to control her. Because Salem knew she was a recalcitrant problem.
Salem liked problems. She liked causing them, and fixing them in her own way. Sometimes Cinder thought that was why she kept Cinder around.
"No one is coming for you. Salem won't find you this time, Cinder. The boy will die, and Emerald, and Mercury, and I'll make you watch, if it displeases you so."
Cinder was on her knees, her throat hoarse. Her Aura depleting, bit by bit. She did not care that others were seeing this shameful treatment. She only wanted it to stop.
"Salem always said we should not be too cruel with you, lest you think of your former masters. I think it is the only time her judgement has ever erred. Emerald betrayed us, Mercury betrayed us… and now… you. And the boy." Tyrian laughed. "Explain that."
Cinder could not get a word out to explain. Her whole body hurt, all over. Her mind went soft around the edges, only insistent pain, and punishment, and hollowness pressing at her.
Nobody was coming. Just like she was used to. She would suffer it. She had borne it before. She could do it again. If there was one thing she was good at it, it was carrying pain.
She would not cry.
"Is it some type of Maiden trick? Is that how you did it? How did you ensnare him? Some feminine wiles? Of course, you and that Madame act you put on was rather pathetic, but I suppose— Jaune?— might find that appealing. Not that it makes sense to me, I never thought seducing the enemy was on our list of objectives. After all, Salem once loved—"
Cinder stopped screaming, and let out gasp after gasp. When she looked up, she saw the tip of Midnight piercing Tyrian, just below his right rib. Then he keeled over beside her, clutching where the sword had slid out of him, coated in blood. Then the sword again went through him, this time a little below where he was just hit, and then again, to make it three. His Aura had moved, as if water being commanded by a larger current, to allow the sword through. The sound of the sword through flesh was wet, slick, like no other.
She saw Jaune standing there with her sword, his gasps maybe as pronounced as hers, as if he had been shocked, too. Tyrian was crawling away, muttering, "Bitch! Bitch!" to himself.
With an angry scream, Cinder sent a wave of flame towards Gillian and Carmine.
"Oh, you want to start it?" Carmine taunted.
Cinder did not want to start it. She called on fire, and cut the pillars supporting the crypt, and watched them cave in and crush the throne, Carmine and Gillian narrowly avoiding their fate as meat paste. The sound was thunderous, rumbling through the ground like an earthquake. She made sure nothing fell on Jaune and the other two.
It was a neat trick, the same she had pulled before. Once Cinder had done that, they would have no choice but to leave, Tyrian now crawling away, mewling about his defeat.
"Do you want to tell me it's not over yet?!" Cinder yelled at Carmine. "Something pithy?"
Carmine spat at her, her saliva missing her by a good few feet. "What a waste."
"Carmine, we must go and get everybody out of here," said Gillian.
"But this was your family's—"
"We must," she insisted.
"And Tyrian?"
"I fear we may incur this Salem's wrath if we do nothing to help him."
The two consulted with each other quietly, as they decided what to do with the man bleeding from three holes in his gut.
Cinder waited for them to leave before she used the Maiden power again to secure the pillars. It took a while, sweat forming at her brow. The crypt, like the Vaults, had at least been built with insurance for its stability. It was uncertain, but it could be held for the moment. Such small imagination. Carmine did not even think to fix it. Penny had.
By the time the crypt emptied, the noise fallen down, Cinder had not yet returned to herself. She was breathing so quickly she could not keep any air in, her hands fumbling at the contraption affixed to her neck until she realised she could melt it off with her Semblance, and did so, feeling it run down her hands. She could not see, or hear, or feel, so lonely and so uncertain.
She would ride it out. She always rode it out. But then she felt hands on her forearms, then her shoulders, a face leaning in close. Soft and unfocussed, he was there, trying to get her to breathe.
"In," he said, and she went with him in, even though she could not hold it. He tried again, "In."
It took some moments of him coaching her, in and out, and she did not know the purpose of it until the hyperventilating stopped. Still, even when it did, he did not stop saying it with her: in, and then out, in and then out.
"What do you see?" he said, his voice honey-sweet and saffron-curled.
"You," she said, in want of another answer, finding none.
"Okay… what do you hear?"
"You," she said again.
He let out a little huff, indistinct. "What do you feel?"
"You," she said, so lowly she was not sure she spoke. Her focus had narrowed down to what was in front of her, her mind clear.
Why did she cry, then? It was loneliness, it was being the little girl again, it was losing still when she was not supposed to lose anymore. She hurt all over, same as she always did. She expected him to go, then, to check on Mercury, to do anything but what he did next: slowly, so slowly, he put one arm around her waist and the other around her neck and pressed her close. It was a hug. Her head went in between his shoulder and neck. His slim chest pressed close to her. He smelt like sunlight on cotton sheets, dried on the line outside.
When she thought he would not surprise her again, he still did. She felt his Aura wash over her.
She was not sure if it felt like this to others, the warmth of it singing over her skin, melded against her. If everybody else had a taste of this. She would never tell him that the day he found her in Atlas, she had liked the feeling of it then, too. Aura to Aura. Surrounding her, warming her.
She did not know how long they knelt there together. It was enough time until she had stopped crying, and she had instead moved her head until her ear rested against his pulse. She could hear the beat of his heart, as sure as her own. That calmed her as much as the breathing had. She did not want to move, not at all, but she lifted her head slowly to check on Emerald and Mercury.
They were speaking in hushed voices, sharing quizzical glances at her and Jaune. Not like it made any sense to Cinder, either.
She and Jaune were so close his air became her air. She pulled back, his arms drifting as she did. She did not know why he had done that. Why he had held her.
Unsure, she looked at him, searching for an answer, but there was only worry over his face.
So she settled on, "Is Mercury…"
"He's okay," Jaune said. "His Aura's doing the work for me now."
She nodded.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She wanted to lie, or tell him what she always was: fine. But she shook her head.
"Will you tell me what that was about? At least later?" he said, his voice rough and low.
"Maybe," she allowed.
"That's okay. You don't have to."
"No, I want to." She turned away and looked at the ground. The mosaic was not comfortable. She wanted to hug him again. She had never been hugged like that.
His hand skittered uncertainly over her shoulder. She leant in quickly and put her arms around him. Like a Grimm arm had ever been used for this. She surveyed the rest of the crypt. They had left in a hurry, and such a mess, too, made worse by the fallen pillars.
Jaune let out a soft, shocked sound. But his arms settled around her again. Just this, just for now. It would not last long, and it would end soon, but she let herself feel it for one single moment. No expectation. Him holding her, so warm.
"You stopped Tyrian," she said. She was pleased he could not see her face.
"Had to," he said.
"I didn't think your Semblance worked like that."
"Well, apparently it does."
"You ripped it open."
"I know."
"You nearly killed him."
"I should have," Jaune snapped. She felt the force of it against her. "But I didn't. I think that's the only thing I regret right now."
"But you helped Mercury." She had to pull away.
"He was torturing you and I watched it. I had to think about it, I had to think, exactly how far was I willing to go? And then I realised I would have killed him, if I weren't more worried about you. I didn't know how much ripping his Aura would eat at me."
"You shouldn't have tried to add to mine," she said.
"It doesn't matter. You were hurt."
"I could manage."
"I didn't want you to," he whispered, but it was as sharp as her sword which he carried.
The sword he used to cut Tyrian open. She released him, then, cognisant of how long they had touched. She had indulged it too much. But he must have seen the torn look on her face, with the way he tried to pull her back. She did not let him. She had just broken whatever deal they had with Gillian and Carmine, and painted a target on her back.
Salem would be deeply displeased, but she would find another way.
"I'm guessing they know, now," Jaune said, inclining his head towards Emerald and Mercury.
"Yeah, hi," said Emerald. Mercury grunted.
"You can try explaining it," Cinder said.
Jaune groaned, a whiny little response she somehow found endearing.
"They're on your side now. They're your problem."
"Hey!" Mercury said, offended. "I'm not with them."
Jaune moved to get up then, and he offered his hands to Cinder. She took them, and he helped her steady on her feet. The aftershock still ran through her.
"Mercury, Tyrian will kill you," Cinder said. She walked over and calmly stood in front of him, certain he would see reason. "Go with Emerald. She came all this way for you, after all."
"Yeah, how did Emerald get here?" Jaune said, coming up beside her. He checked Mercury's Aura and seemed satisfied.
"I followed her," Emerald muttered.
"She eavesdropped," Cinder added, for good measure.
"I was coming to ask you about Cinder's sword!" Emerald said to Jaune.
"I really hoped you had forgotten about that." Jaune sighed.
"Yeah, unluckily enough for you, I hadn't. And then I heard Cinder in your room, and I thought for a minute— no way! I'm going nuts! Then by the time I was in the gardens I saw her with one leg hanging out of your window, and I was like, oh, alright, I'm not nuts! Jaune is! So you'd better explain, because none of this makes sense, and it's really weird, but also, thanks for saving Merc, I guess." Then she shrugged. "Good job not dying, Merc."
"Credit where credit's due," Mercury said. Emerald blew out a half-laugh through her nose, but it wasn't that funny.
Cinder looked at Jaune, who looked back at her. The bond sort of defied explanation. It took them long enough to figure it out themselves.
She felt bad for him, though, so she said, "I was injured after my fight with Winter and Penny."
Emerald and Mercury were hesitant. They did not reply, but waited for her to continue. The silence was painful.
"I was going to die. Winter had broken my Aura after she cut… this," she said, and gestured to the Grimm arm, hidden, armour clanking with the movement. "And while she bled, I did, too. It was too late, by the time Penny had the power. We were both as good as dead until she did. I crawled out and found a hole to die in, and made it burn. Just like every other time. Ruby. Raven."
"I don't get where this is going," Mercury said. "So you got injured. Big deal. Happened to you enough times."
Cinder crossed her arms. Jaune said, "I got split up from my team, and… I found her."
"This still isn't making sense," said Emerald. She was absentmindedly stroking a thumb over Mercury's shoulder. It made an inordinate amount of sense to Cinder.
"So he didn't kill you, I take it," Mercury snarked.
"Clearly," Cinder said.
"I healed her?" Jaune tried.
"It was a little more than that."
"Why didn't you kill her?" Emerald asked. "I don't get it. If you had, then it would all have been over by then."
The question cut Cinder. She knew what he should have done. She had told him that herself. Kill her, and it would all be over. Simple as anything. Then he had not.
"I couldn't," Jaune said, as if repeating the words. They could play out the whole scene again:
You! Come to gloat?
No.
I'll kill you… if you come any closer.
I'm not intending to.
If you're not here to gloat… and you're not here to kill me… do you just want… to watch me die?
Your Aura is broken, and you're dying.
Then he had helped her. He had hovered over her, filled her Aura, filled in the Grimm curse, nonsensically, totally nonsensically; the only thing which made sense, to him, sparing her.
Because he was who he was, and she was who she was.
He had said that he would do it again, and again, if given the opportunity.
"And then what?" said Mercury.
Cinder was there again, in the fire.
"Then we kind of invented an Aura bond and then some really strange stuff happened," Jaune said, inelegantly, scratching the back of his head.
"I pulled him out from the beach," Cinder numbly added.
"You what?" Emerald said.
"Then I took him to Vacuo—"
"What?!"
"And I gave him my sword, because his broke—"
"What?" Mercury said.
"I was going to find the Summer Maiden for her?" Jaune tried to explain.
"In recompense," Cinder said.
"Then the Summer Maiden was dead—"
"—and we found her here."
"Well, you got my armour from the beach in between that."
"Hence my being in his room. He pulled me back from—"
"Vale."
"With Neo."
"Who left."
"Right. And then I texted you, Mercury, who told me where Tyrian was—"
"Wait, where does Salem factor into this?" Mercury said.
"She doesn't. She's not awake," Cinder said. "I lied to you. Because I wasn't supposed… to leave."
"You left Salem?"
"I'm going back!" she snapped. "Eventually! But you need a cover story now." She met Jaune's sharp gaze. "You went with Emerald. You caught her leaving."
He nodded. "Sure. We got a lead, and Emerald really… wanted to find Mercury."
"You went with her, but she wouldn't wait for anybody else."
"Mercury fought Tyrian, but we escaped. Simple enough cover because it's the truth, I guess."
"Lying with the truth is the only way. I wanted to be a Huntress, once, at least maybe because I liked the idea of being free. Beacon was easy for that reason," Cinder said. Jaune softened and tilted his head at her. She hated when he did that. He had looked at her with anger for so long, she did not know how to handle it.
Emerald and Mercury both furrowed their brows.
She said, "What?"
"I never knew that," Emerald said.
"You never knew me. And now you're going to leave."
"Just… like that. You keep us under your thumb and now you're letting me go?"
"I'm letting you all go," Cinder replied. "You three are returning to Shade Academy, and we don't speak of this again. I need to wrangle the Summer Maiden, and you need to be prepared for whatever comes next. That Gillian was interested in your Semblance." Cinder again now spoke only to Jaune. "I would be very, very careful. They collect powerful Semblances."
"Yeah, I thought about using myself as bait, earlier. Ruby said only she's allowed buttheaded ideas like that."
Cinder reared back. She said, mildly shocked, "I believe Ruby and I may agree on one thing. That's a stupid idea. Don't do that."
"It was just a thought."
"It'll get you killed, or worse, enslaved, and I brought you enough trouble today," she hissed.
Ruby and her silver eyes, and her good point. Jaune did not need to be bait. He pursed his lips.
"There's no way I can go with them," Mercury said, breaking the tension between her and Jaune.
"I did," Emerald said.
"It's not that easy. And how exactly do you two expect to juggle this Aura bond thing?" Mercury said. "Like, two out of four of us in this room technically still work for Salem. If I go, sure, it's one, but it's still four."
Emerald mouthed blood loss at Cinder and Jaune, to explain Mercury's awkward explanation of maths.
"Yes, Mercury," Cinder said, mildly chiding. "That's right. I need to help Salem achieve what she wants to get what I want. It's as simple as that. And you are going with Emerald."
Mercury huffed.
"I second that," Jaune said, nodding. "Just so we're clear."
"Just like that," Mercury muttered to himself.
"It's actually kind of fun, you know," Emerald said.
"I thought you said they were too happy."
"Well, yeah. But I'm happy too, sometimes. You were gone, though, so it kinda sucked. Had to come get you."
"Save it for later," Cinder said. "I don't know how long this crypt will hold, or if any stragglers might come back. You need to go."
Emerald's red eyes were clear, and striking. She was curious. "And what happens with the bond, then? You're gonna infiltrate the school through him?"
"He won't let that happen."
"And what else does it do?"
Jaune answered that for her. "We're still figuring that out, though, um, we see each other? Only each other. I can't see where she is, and she can't see me or what other people are saying."
"So straightforward," Cinder muttered.
She would have to find somewhere to stay for the night. No inns would take her, so her best hope would be an abandoned shack somewhere.
As she tried to walk off, Jaune caught her hand. "Where will you go?"
"I need somewhere to sleep, and I need to find the Summer Maiden."
Jaune sighed. "Seriously?"
"That, or go back to Salem. It would be a long trip, if I fly there on my own, and I don't think I could manage that now, not certainly with—" she cut herself off, and tried to intimate: the Relics under your bed.
Jaune nodded, tentatively. "Okay, well, sleep in my room."
"Are you serious," she said, flatly. "That's more ridiculous than using yourself as bait."
"What, are you going to sleep in here?"
"Obviously not. This is going to cave in soon enough."
"So just come back the way you came."
Cinder tried to catch his joke. She looked to Emerald. Had he grown some strange sense of humour? Emerald only shrugged, and Mercury raised a brow. His pallor had returned to normal, but his self-assuredness had not; he watched Emerald with an absent smile, where she held him.
"No, I'm serious, who would expect me to keep you in my room? Who would expect you to be in Shade Academy already? Like, yeah, I guess you did that with Beacon, but everybody knows who you are now. And everybody will want a piece of Mercury, anyway. Sorry, Mercury."
"Yeah, man, no trouble, not like I'm just accessory to your weird plan to sleep with Cinder."
Cinder's mouth fell open. She had rarely been taken off guard like that. "Repeat what you just said, Mercury."
"You can't boss me around, I'm with the good guys now."
If Cinder had not swum in the sea, met the God of Darkness, and tortured all in a day, and gone to the effort of helping Mercury, she would have ordinarily threatened him. As it was, she was tired, so she let out a weary groan.
"He's your trouble now," Cinder said to Jaune.
"Hooray," Jaune said, flat and unhappy, blush high on his cheeks. She had seen that before. "You're coming though, right?"
Her jaw worked, and she placed her flesh hand on his arm. "Against my better judgement, yes."
It was a three hour walk back, if they were going to do it by foot. Cinder could not carry all three of them, so when they left the necropolis, Mercury's arm around Emerald's shoulder, their first task was to find a vehicle. It was not long before they did, and that was when Cinder found out Jaune knew how to pick a lock and start an engine without a key. Of course, she knew, too, so she had picked it and he had started it, and then they were in a car together. Emerald and Mercury in the back, talking amongst themselves. They had somewhere to go together, now. Cinder locked away whatever that made her felt.
"At least you can drive," Cinder said to Jaune.
"Not everybody knows how to pilot planes."
They would drive across the sandy dunes along the roads which saw little traffic: a truck here, a pair of high-beam lights and indistinct shape there. It was not one of her best ideas. She should have gone the other way. Her knee jiggled.
"You'll be fine," Jaune said. "This is maybe only my second dumbest idea."
She shuddered to think of the most.
Emerald and Mercury were quietly chattering in the back still. The dashboard had no light, and Jaune's profile was dark in the night.
Cinder did not like the conflict this offered her. That she would have somewhere safe to sleep, yet it was in the most unsafe territory possible. At least, if Salem awoke anytime soon, she would not immediately find Cinder.
Jaune's room was probably where she was safest, if she admitted it. If Tyrian tried to find her, or the other Summer Maiden, there was a whole school with a specific interest to stop them.
Then she would take the Maiden power, and she would… get what Salem wanted. It always came back to that. Salem would never be stopped, and she had always helped Cinder, even when she had hurt her.
It was just for now, like when she wandered from Anima to Atlas, she was taking the long way around. She had taken dalliances in Vale. Vale had a countryside she had liked. Salem would understand. It was just like she was said. Allowances had to be made, sometimes, working towards your greater goal, no matter how you got there.
Tonight she would sleep. She was long used to only survival in sight. She had lived it, over and over again: as long as I make it this far. She would figure the rest out later. For now, she watched him, his sweet focus on the road, the slow pace he went at, slower than the speed limit. Watching him when he was not watching back felt like she was stealing something, but she was not sure what.
He would drop her off around the back of the gardens, and she would hide until he opened the window, as her cue to sidle up the academy again, where her evening had started. She thought she would leave and never come back.
Then she had simply come back because she had wanted to.
Cinder did not hover long before his window, and she slipped in hastily, hoping no one saw her. If they did, they would only have seen smoke. It was a harmless Maiden's trick.
"How does it come back to you every time?" she said, voice lowered, aware of Emerald's eavesdropping at the door.
"I don't know," he said. "I have to go deal with the Emerald and Mercury business, for now. I don't think they'll mention what happened. With the bond. But everybody else will have questions. Don't answer the door unless I knock three times, a pause, then two."
"A code," she said, and huffed. "That's cute."
"It's smart!"
"I don't disagree."
Someone might have been suspicious if they heard his shower running, but Cinder had to admit: she had been in the ocean. She needed a shower. So when he was gone, she shucked off her armour, set it on the shelf and hung up her clothes, which Carmine had mocked. She used the Maiden power the way it was probably never meant to be used. She called on hot water.
It was good for killing. It was not really meant for creature comfort. By the time she had hopped out, warm, content, somehow satisfied, she realised she had nothing to wear.
Working for Salem, most of the logistics of her plans revolved around the matters of eating and sleeping, the parts people such as Tyrian liked to underestimate. What with his strange crypt-base. It was all well and good if they wanted to take down Beacon, but they were as human as their enemy was. Of course, they expected that Salem was unstoppable. She was. But she had saved Atlas for a reason, because it called on so much of her ancient power, it sent her to sleep.
Salem needed to eat, too. She was immortal, and would not die of hunger, but Cinder had seen her forego food occasionally, and she grew snappish, annoyed at anything.
Beacon worked because posing as students, they had all their amenities available to them, were able to spy on those they wished to undermine. It worked because it was so brazen.
So perhaps Jaune had a point. Perhaps she would be well-hidden in here, in his room, and now, his clothes. She went through the bedside table where she found shirts which went past her hips, at least, enough to modestly cover her, and she stole some of his jocks. The shirt was well-worn and must have been a hand-me-down he had picked up, with SHADE ACADEMY emblazoned in weathered script.
The sheets smelt like sunshine on line-dried cotton. She fell asleep in his bed before he returned.