They set out in the early morning. It's grey and dark and cold.

Before their two groups go their separate ways, they have to walk.

And walk.

And walk.

And his legs are getting so tired of all the walking on this hunk of space rock.

Isn't space exploration supposed to be fun? All he's gotten out of it so far are blisters.

As they move along, Thorne and Iko make the best time. Their longer legs are an advantage. Although Jacin is the tallest among the group, he and Cress hang to the back. They look suspiciously secretive. She hovers by his side, head tilted to listen. He bends slightly, his lips moving a hairsbreadth.

Cinder falls somewhere in the middle as they walk.

Thorne is too tired for chatter on this journey.

They rest at last. This is it. This is where they part.

.

Cinder crouches a little way off. Her pants are covered in moon dust and the dark regolith. He squats down next to her and bumps her side.

"Ready?"

She picks at the cuff of her pants. "I feel all wrong. I can't really explain why. Me and Cress were talking about it this morning, but, separating feels like suicide. I'm—"

"Frightened?" Thorne offers.

Cinder crosses her arms across her chest. "What do you want me to say? Of course I'm scared. Of course I am, but we have to win."

"You're right, Cinder. You're absolutely right. You will win. We're counting on it."

"I still don't want to leave. It still feels wrong."

"You just have to promise to find me—us—after this is all over. No dying. Promise?"

"Yeah. I guess I can promise not to die." She rolls her eyes.

"Good." And he offers up his pinky.

"What?" She scowls. "Pinky promises?"

"Yep. That's how all solemn oaths are made. Didn't you know?"

"Ah, it must have been excluded in my general course of important information for politicians and rulers."

"Must have been."

She grimaces and they link pinkies.

He twists their fingers together, once, twice. And then, a third and final time for good measure. The touch is fleeting. It is just as meaningless to her as the everything it means to him.

He can't help feeling disappointed.

They crouch side by side in silence.

Without warning, Thorne says, "Home is a long way off."

"Home…" She stares deep into the gloom. There is a far-awayness to her gaze. It speaks of loss. Maybe even of being lost.

"Do you miss your family—how long has it been—since you saw them last?"

"My parents?" Thorne asks, "Four, five years. Nah. I don't miss them. They're probably better off without me anyway. I always was a troublemaker." He grins, elbowing her.

"That I believe."

"As well as dashing, clever, and funny."

"Of course you were."

"You're finally getting the picture!" He shifts on his heels. This crouching isn't exactly a comfortable position. "Can you believe that girls my age didn't appreciate me back in the day."

She's unperturbed. "Noo. That's shocking."

He tilts his head to frown at her. "What were you like as a kid?"

She rolls her eyes. "Really?"

"I'm curious!"

"I was suspended in medical jelly like some kind of lab experiment."

He grimaces. "Ooooh, yeah. Sorry."

"But I do wonder who I would have been—if I'd grown up here."

He's silent. He watches her face work in the gloom. Cinder scowls. It doesn't seem that she likes the mental image.

Cinder shakes her head. She claps her hands together and pushes up from the ground to her feet.

Thorne rises with her. She gives him a tight little smile and that's his goodbye, he supposes. That's all she has to offer.

He winks at her.

The eye roll he receives is almost enough to lift his mood. Almost.

As they go opposite ways and he links arms with Cress for the daunting trek in front of them, he realizes something.

This is the best he's ever going to get from Cinder; stolen hugs and pinky promises.

It doesn't matter if Thorne is dashing or brave. No. It doesn't matter because Cinder has already found someone dashing and brave and noble—actually noble. Thorne never had a chance.

It's sobering and depressing all at once.

.

.

.

Kissing Cress is like insanity. It's every good thing come true.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows this is manipulation by a Lunar. Somewhere deeper down he knows, and he doesn't care. Deeper even still inside of him, he wishes this Lunar woman had chosen a different face to adorn herself with.

That thought is true insanity itself.

Lunar-Cress runs her fingers through his hair and kisses him with a single-minded passion. How much of that is the compulsion shaping his view of her? How much of her overwhelming desire is real? She strokes her fingers down his sides, sending a shiver up his spine.

Thorne wraps his arms around her and tilts her backward. She reciprocates by deepening the kiss.

The novelty wears off quickly and he wants her to stop. She doesn't stop. She continues to kiss him.

Her tongue and teeth feel good because she wants them to feel good to him. Her hands skim his back and then she's dragging sharp nails down his shoulders.

And then the compulsion says through his lips, "I think I'm in love with you."

She giggles.

Lunar-Cress melts away into the breathtaking vision of his captor. She has long lashes and sultry eyes and if he's being honest, he likes what he sees. She finally lets him go.

If he's being honest, he would probably have gone after her himself under different circumstances. These circumstances change everything. She must know that.

Does the woman know? Or is this a game she plays with every man she wants? She didn't give him a choice. His willingness makes all the difference in the universe. Stars, what a bunch of sick freaks these people are.

She kisses him on the cheek. It's a languid brush of wet lips and warmth. She smudges her finger against his cheek, wiping the mark of her lipstick away. Then she saunters off with her friends all giggling and whispering beside her.

Cress is missing.

No—where has she gone? Panic suddenly takes hold of him. He shouts for her.

She isn't safe!

If a woman here will do this to him, what might a male Lunar do to precious little Cress? She's too weak to defend herself!

"Cress!" He calls out again.

His pulse gallops in his throat.

"Cress!"

"I'm here."

He spins around and there she is. Cress slips from behind one of the marble pillars. Her face is flushed but otherwise she is unharmed.

His whole body sags with relief. "Spades. I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, that was—"

But, something is wrong. Anger twists her usually pretty face.

She crosses her arms and sneers. "I don't want to know."

All of his panic is gone in a spark of disbelief.

She begins to stomp down the corridor, her butterfly wings bouncing behind her.

He chases after her. "Woah, hey, hold on. Are you mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" She swings her arms in wide and open gestures. Painting her words in the air with one strike at a time as she marches down the hall. "You have the right to—to flirt with and kiss and proclaim your love for whoever you want to. Which is good, because you do. All the time." She punches the air one last time.

"Sooo… you're jealous?" He tries for teasing.

She doesn't like that at all. "You do realize that all she wanted was to get a laugh at your expense, right?"

"Yeah, I get that now. Cress!" He tugs at her elbow. "Wait."

She jolts to a stop in front of him.

"I know they can't do it to you, but the rest of us can't choose not to be controlled by them. She controlled me." He says simply. "It wasn't my fault."

In her eyes is this odd kind of light. She's angry. Really and truly furious. He's never seen her like this before.

She goes on and on. She lists every one of his infractions. Every single one. Every time he has found another woman beautiful and said so or even the times he let his eyes wander.

With each misdemeanor added to the pile, he feels more and more like the failure she must know him to be. Just like the skeevy guy Cinder met in New Beijing Prison. He's just a guy in a white jumpsuit and a tablet filled with a bunch of downloaded pinups.

He is suddenly guilty. The hurt is still there too. He can't decide which emotion is stronger.

"But I'm not invisible!" She cries, "I'm not. And yet you flirt with every single one of them. You'll flirt with anyone who so much as looks at you." The anger in her voice falls away and she's defeated. "And all I do is look at you. You never see me. Never. That's what you were trying to tell me, wasn't it?"

He blinks at her, confused.

"In the desert." She clarifies. "You were trying to warn me."

He takes her flushed face in. Her wet eyes. The deep creases between her eyebrows. She's a mess. She's torn to pieces and it's all his fault.

Isn't it? What would a true hero do.

"I didn't want to hurt you." He says. That's the truth. Unadulterated and complete.

And after Cress shouts and rages with her genuine grief, he kisses her.

Her lips are soft on his.

Her hair is soft in his fingers.

Her hands are soft against his skin.

And Thorne feels like a monster because the woman he wants to kiss is all rough edges.

A/N:

this update fulfills your daily angst quota. please consult with your personal healthcare provider about whether continuing on to the next chapter is right for you!