Cress (The Lunar Chronicles, #3)

by Marissa Meyer

In a life in which newness and novelty were so rare, he had become a fixture of fascination to her. At first, she was disgusted by him and his apparent greed and recklessness.

Theft, violence, trespassing, school suspensions, police reprimands. Yet Carswell Thorne, when given a chance to explain, always had a reason. A good reason. A heart-stopping, pulse-racing, awe-inspiring reason. Like the sun rising over Earth’s horizon, her perception began to change. Carswell Thorne wasn’t a heartless scoundrel at all. If anyone bothered to get to know him, they would see that he was compassionate and chivalrous. He was exactly the kind of hero Cress had been dreaming about her entire life.

She dreamed of deep soul connections and passionate kisses and daring escapades. She was certain that he simply had to meet her, just once, and he would feel the same way. It would be like those epic love affairs that exploded into existence and burned white hot for all eternity. The type of love that time and distance and even death couldn’t separate. Because if there was one thing Cress knew about heroes, it was that they could not resist a damsel in distress. And she was nothing if not in distress.

could see were the blue eyes staring back at her, directly back at her, beginning to fill with the same breathless awe she felt. The same wonder. The same enchantment. Though they were separated by two screens and vast amounts of empty space, she could feel the link being forged between them in that look. A bond that couldn’t be broken. Their eyes had met for the first time, and by the look of pure amazement on his face, she knew he felt it too. Heat crept up into her cheeks. Her hands began to shake.

She pressed a hand to her chest, drowning. Pain. Loneliness. Love. It always came back to love. More than freedom, more than acceptance—love. True love, like they sang about in the second era. The kind that filled up a person’s soul. The kind that lent itself to dramatic gestures and sacrifices. The kind that was irresistible and all-encompassing.

He did, indeed, have an impressive bump on his scalp, but Cress could think only of the softness of his hair and the way she was practically lying on top of him. She blushed. “Yes. Right. You should probably, um…” She had no idea what he should probably do. Kiss her, she thought. Isn’t that what people did after they survived thrilling, near-death experiences together? She was sure it wasn’t an appropriate suggestion, but this close, it was all she could think about. She yearned to lean in closer, to press her nose into the fabric of his shirt and inhale deeply, but she didn’t want him thinking she was odd. Or guessing the truth, that this moment, filled with injuries and her destroyed satellite and being separated from his friends, was the most perfect moment of her entire life.

All at once, it dawned on her. She was on Earth. On Earth. She’d seen pictures, of course. Thousands and thousands of photographs and vids—cities and lakes and forests and mountains, every landscape imaginable. But she had never thought the sky could be so impossibly blue, or that the land could hold so many hues of gold, or could glitter like a sea of diamonds, or could roll and swell like a breathing creature.

And then she looked out, past the railing and the dunes, toward the rolling horizon. The sky was a haze of violet, and where that faded away—blue and black and stars. The same stars she’d known all her life, and yet now they were spread out like a blanket over her. Now there was an entire sky and an entire world ready to engulf her.

She tried to swallow down the rising panic, this sensation that her existence was as small and unimportant as the tiniest fleck of sand blowing against her shins. There was a whole world—a whole planet. And she was stuck somewhere in the middle of it, away from everything. There were no walls, no boundaries, nothing to hide behind. A shudder swept over her, goose bumps crawling across her bare arms.

This time, she took in an extra deep breath and shut her eyes and grappled for a daydream, any daydream … “I am an explorer,” she whispered, “setting courageously off into the wild unknown.” It was not a daydream she’d ever had before, but she felt the familiar comfort of her imagination wrapping around her. She was an archaeologist, a scientist, a treasure hunter. She was a master of land and sea. “My life is an adventure,” she said, growing confident as she opened her eyes again. “I will not be shackled to this satellite anymore.”

Her heart was fluttering erratically and she felt herself trapped between elation and terror. Even from this distance, she could tell that the mountains were enormous—hulking, ancient beasts lined up like an impenetrable wall dividing this wasteland. But at least they were something, a physical, visual marker to break up the monotony of the desert. They somehow calmed her, even while making her feel as insignificant as ever.

She’d never known sunsets could be green, had never known just how quickly the darkness set in. Her thoughts hummed as she tried to pull together every minute detail, to store this moment safely away in a place where she would never, ever forget. Not the way the light turned dull and hazy above the desert. Not the way the stars emerged from the black. Not the way her instincts kept her gaze from wandering too far up into the sky, keeping her panic at bay.

But as the stars grew brighter and her eyes adjusted, Cress realized that the world around her was not pitch-black but tinged with a faint silver hue.

She let her gaze wander away from the moon, taking in the night sky. She was tentative at first, worried that looking at the sky would once again overwhelm her, but she soon discovered that there was something comforting about seeing the same galaxy she’d always known. The same stars she’d been looking at all her life, seen through a new lens. The tension in her body released, bit by bit. This was familiar. This was safe. The faint swirl of gasses in the universe, glowing purple and blue. The sparkle of thousands and thousands of stars, as numerous as sand grains, as breathtaking as an Earthen sunrise seen through her satellite window.

If you had even one small thing that brought you happiness, or hope that things could someday be better, then maybe that would be enough to sustain you.

As the sand began to rock beneath her, she pressed her hand against his chest, seeking out the steadying heartbeat. She sighed happily when she found it. Her body began to dissolve, little grains of sand scattering.… “Captain,” she murmured. “I think I’m in love with you.” An eyebrow shot up. She counted six beats of his heart before, suddenly, he laughed. “Don’t tell me it took you two whole days to realize that. I must be losing my touch.” Her fingertips curled against him. “You knew?” “That you’re lonely, and I’m irresistible? Yeah. I knew. Come on, Cress, you’re getting up.”

She gripped his wrist. “Do you think you could ever love me back?” “Cress, this is sweet, but aren’t I the first guy you’ve ever met? Come on, up you go.” She turned her head away, dread pressing down on her. He didn’t believe her. He didn’t understand how intensely she felt. “Oh, spades and aces and stars.” He groaned. “You’re not crying again, are you?” “N-no.” She bit her lip. It wasn’t a lie. She certainly wanted to cry, but her eyes were all dried up. Thorne pulled a hand through his hair, knocking away a cloud of sand. “Yes,” he said firmly. “We are obviously soul mates. Now please, stand up.” “You’ve probably told lots of girls you loved them.” “Well, yeah, but I would have reconsidered if I’d known you were going to hold it against me.”

“I’m dying,” she murmured, struck by the certainty of it. “I’m going to die. And I’ve never even been kissed.” “Cress. Cress. You’re not going to die.” “We were going to have such a passionate romance, too, like in the dramas. But, no—I’ll die alone, never kissed, not once.” He groaned, but it was out of frustration, not heartbreak. “Listen, Cress, I hate to break this to you, but I am sweaty and itchy and haven’t brushed my teeth in two days. This just isn’t a good time for romance.” She squeaked and tucked her head between her knees, trying to get the world to stop turning so fast. The hopelessness of their situation was crushing her. The desert would never end. They would never get out. Thorne would never love her back.

He crouched close to her and felt for her face. “I promise, I will not let you die without being kissed.” “I’m dying now.” “You are not dying.” “But—” “I will be the judge of when you are dying, and when that happens, I guarantee you will get a kiss worth waiting for. But right now, you have to get up.”

Her attention caught on their entwined fingers like a beacon. Every twitch, every heartbeat, every step was broadcast through her entire body.

She wasn’t used to being accepted by strangers, even appreciated. She wasn’t used to being admired.

When she was watching him break and crumble in front of her. She longed to put him back together. To take away the vulnerability that didn’t fit him. But it was his right to mourn.

She was a girl. A living girl, smart and sweet and awkward and unusual, and she was worth far more than they could ever realize.

“You’re an idiot to go after her,” said Jamal. “She’ll already be sold, and that old man isn’t going to pay for her twice. You should just cut your losses and move on. She’s just a Lunar shell—she isn’t worth it.” “If you honestly believe that,” said Thorne, stowing the gun again, “then you really don’t recognize true value when you see it.”

She felt like a bird who’d had her wings clipped and been thrown into a cage—another filthy, rotting cage. She’d been in a cage all her life. Somehow, she’d never expected to find one just as awful on Earth. Earth, she reminded herself as the doctor plodded back across the groaning floorboards. She was on Earth. Not trapped in a satellite in space. There was a way out of this. Freedom was just out that window, or just down those stairs. She would not be a prisoner again.

This really was war, and she really was in the middle of it. If she had to make sacrifices, she would. What did that make her, anyway? A real criminal? A real threat? A real Lunar?

she couldn’t just save herself. It wasn’t only loyalty and friendship that made every fiber of her body rebel against the notion that she could abandon them all. It was the knowledge that without them, she was useless.

“There’s nothing worse than your own body being used against you.” Cinder stumbled, but Wolf caught her and dragged her a few steps before she found her balance again. “I’m sorry, Wolf. But I had to. I couldn’t leave you there.” “I know. I understand.” Reaching out, he grabbed a sack out of the doctor’s hand, lessening his load as they hurried toward the ship. “But it doesn’t change the fact that no one should have that sort of power.”

“I never lied to you.” Cinder stole another look at the foot. “I maybe didn’t tell you the whole truth, but can you blame me?” He frowned. “Of course I can blame you. You had plenty of opportunities to tell me the truth.” The words seemed to surprise her, until she fisted her hands on her hips. “Right. And what if I’d said, oh, sure, Your Highness, I’d love to go to the ball with you, but first you should probably know that I’m cyborg. And then what?” Kai looked away. “You never would have talked to me again,” she answered for him. “You would have been mortified.” “So you were just going to keep it hidden forever?” “Forever?” Cinder waved her arm toward the window. “You are the emperor of an entire country. There was never going to be a forever.”

“I’m on my side,” she said. “And if you want what’s best for the Commonwealth, and this entire planet, you’d better be on my side too.” She held out her hand, palm up. “Now give me your wrist.” He curled his fingers. “My responsibility is here. I have a country to protect. I’m not running away from that, and I’m certainly not running away with you.” He tried to lift his chin, though it was difficult when Cinder’s glare was making him feel about as important as a grain of salt. “Really?” she drawled. “You’d rather take your chances with her?” “At least I know when she’s manipulating me.” “News flash: I have never manipulated you. And I hope I never have to. But you aren’t the only one with responsibilities and an entire country of people who are relying on you. So I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but you are coming with me, and you’re just going to have to figure out whether or not you can trust me when we’re not so pressed for time.” Then she raised her hand and shot him.

YOU TELL HIM, CINDER!!!!

“I’ve hurt you all in some way. Been at least partly responsible for some tragedy in your lives. I am sorry.”

Dr. Erland, STOP MAKING ME TEAR UP

She opened her mouth, but no words came. I love you. I love you too. Words that had been so easy in daydreams, and now seemed impossible. She believed him, but she didn’t know him. She didn’t know if she loved him back.

(T_T) *crying in the club*

“I guess it’s time.” While Cress’s thoughts continued to churn through the horrible things that could happen to her, she felt herself being suddenly spun around and dipped backward, a supportive arm scooping beneath her back. She yelped and caught herself on Thorne’s shoulder. Then he was kissing her. The battle became a hurricane, with them caught in the eye—his arms cradling her against the wind, her skirt billowing around his legs, his lips gentle but coaxing as if they had all the time in the world. Warmth overtook her and Cress closed her eyes. She thought her arms wanted to wrap around his neck, but her whole body was vibrating and dizzy and she could barely keep her fingers clutched around the fabric of his shirt.

Seething, she stepped closer, close enough that she could see the trail of tears left on the doctor’s scourged face. “Sweet Crescent Moon…,” he whispered, his lips barely able to form the words. He began to shiver. “Up in the sky…” He hummed a few bars of a song, a lullaby that seemed barely familiar. “You sing your song … so sweetly … after sunshine passes.…” The last word hovered unspoken as he stopped shuddering and lay still, his blue eyes staring upward like empty marbles.

RIP :(

She bit her lip. The rooftop. The kiss. He’d kept his promise. He’d given her a kiss worth waiting for because she was about to die—they were both about to die. She knew it had been a risk, and probably a stupid one. And that was the choice he’d made rather than let her die without experiencing that one perfect moment. She could think of nothing more heroic. So why wouldn’t he mention it? Perhaps more important, why couldn’t she?

She loved him more than ever. And not because she’d scoured file after file of reports and summaries and data and photographs. Not because he was the dreamy, untouchable Carswell Thorne that she’d imagined kissing on the banks of a starlit river while fireworks exploded overhead and violins played in the background. Now he was the Carswell Thorne who had given her strength in the desert. Who had come for her when she was kidnapped. Who had kissed her when hope was lost and death was imminent.

Maybe there isn’t such a thing as fate. Maybe it’s just the opportunities we’re given, and what we do with them. I’m beginning to think that maybe great, epic romances don’t just happen. We have to make them ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s great. I mean, half the people in the world want to kill her and the other half want to chain her to a throne on the moon, which is just what she’s always wanted. So she’s fantastic.”

Bending his head, Kai pressed his lips to her knuckles. The plating had no nerve endings, and yet the touch sent a tingle of electricity along her arm. “Cinder?” “Mm?” He lifted his gaze. “Just to be clear, you’re not using your mind powers on me right now, are you?” She blinked. “Of course not.” “Just checking.” Then he slid his arms around her waist and kissed her. Cinder gasped, pressing her palms against his chest. Kai pulled her closer. Seconds later, her brain began registering all the new chemicals flooding her system. INCREASED LEVELS OF DOPAMINE AND ENDORPHINS, REDUCED AMOUNTS OF CORTISOL, ERRATIC PULSE, RISING BLOOD PRESSURE …

“Now, let’s never talk about you being related to her again. Because I’m technically still engaged to her, and that’s really weird.” Cinder couldn’t help laughing, even exhaustedly, even just to cover up the screaming inside, as he bound her up in his arms again. Her headache began to fade, replaced with the strength of his heartbeat and the way she felt almost delicate when she was pressed up against him like this. Almost fragile. Almost safe. Almost like a princess.

“A revolutionary,” she repeated. She liked that a lot better than princess.