Lunar Chronicles #4 Winter - Page 157

“Um … the one wearing gla.s.ses?”

He glanced back over his shoulder, scanning the crowd for the couple. “Well played, Lunars,” he murmured, duly impressed. He faced forward again. “Jacin said to take the third hallway, right?” He tugged her toward a curving hall, where floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the front gardens.

“Try to keep in mind that they can make themselves look however they want to,” said Cress. “No one in this palace is as beautiful as you think they are. It’s all just mind control.”

Thorne grinned and squeezed her closer against his side. “I’m fairly certain there’s at least one exception to that rule.”

Cress rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Thaumaturges.”

He laughed and dropped his arm, though she wasn’t sure what was funny.

They pa.s.sed by a group of young men, and Cress watched, baffled, as they stumbled across the hallway. One of them shoved open a gla.s.s door and headed toward the lakesh.o.r.e and expansive gardens. He nearly tumbled off the staircase that led down to the sprawling lawn.

Shaking her head, Cress faced forward again—and realized she was alone.

Every muscle tensed as she swiveled around, relieved to spot Thorne a few paces away. Not relieved to see he’d been accosted by another girl who was quite pretty even to Cress’s untrickable eyes. She was smiling at Thorne through her long lashes in a way that was both sultry and vicious.

For his part, Thorne just looked surprised.

“I thought I sensed an Earthen boy,” said the girl. Reaching up, she traced the glowing lights on Thorne’s bow tie, then trailed her finger down his chest. “And a well-dressed one at that. What a lucky find.”

Pulse thumping, Cress surveyed the corridor. The crowd was beginning to trickle toward the great hall, but plenty of guests were still fluttering around one another in no apparent hurry. No one was paying them any attention. This woman, too, seemed to have eyes only for Thorne. Cress racked her brain for some way to get him away from her without raising suspicion or drawing attention to herself.

Then the woman wrapped her arms around Thorne’s neck and every thought flew out of Cress’s head. Dumbfounded, Thorne offered no resistance as she pulled him into a kiss.

Seventy-One

Cress’s spine stiffened indignantly, at the same time a group of Lunar women chortled not far away. “Good eye, Luisa,” one of them called, followed by another: “If you spot any more pretty Earthens like that one, send them my way!”

Neither Thorne nor Luisa seemed to hear them. In fact, as Cress watched, aghast, Thorne slid his arms around Luisa’s body and drew her closer.

Cress clenched her fists, her shoulders, her entire body. She was appalled. Then annoyed. Then logic began to creep in and she realized that, while they were probably just toying with Thorne, they would not be so kind to her if they figured out she was immune to their glamours and manipulation.

Shaking with contempt, Cress backed into an alcove behind a pillar. There she waited, arms crossed and red sparks in her vision, as Thorne kissed the girl.

And kissed her.

And kissed her.

Cress’s fingernails had left painful crescent moon imprints in her skin by the time they finally pulled apart.

Luisa fluttered her lashes, breathless. “You’ve been wanting that awhile, haven’t you?”

Cress rolled her eyes skyward.

And Thorne said …

Thorne said …

“I think I’m in love with you.”

A nail pierced Cress’s heart, and she gasped, actually gasped from the pain of it. Her jaw fell, but she quickly lifted it again. The puncture wound in her chest quickly filled with resentment.

If she had to watch him swoon over anyone else she was going to scream. How was it possible that she was the only girl in the galaxy he didn’t try to kiss and woo and flirt with?

Well, he had kissed her that one time on the rooftop, but it had been as a favor to her and hardly counted.

She withdrew farther into the alcove, seething, but also hurt. That was it, then. He never would desire her, not like these other girls who caught his eye. Cress had to accept the fact that their kiss—the most pa.s.sionate, romantic moment of her life—had been nothing more than a gesture made out of pity.

“Oh, aren’t you just darling?” said the woman. “And not a bad kisser, either. Maybe we can enjoy more of each other’s company later?” Without waiting for a response, she patted Thorne on the chest and winked, before swaying away down the hall.

The adoring peanut gallery, too, meandered off, leaving Thorne in the middle of the corridor, stunned. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark with what Cress a.s.sumed was l.u.s.t, and his hair was messed where Luisa had clawed her hands into it.

Luisa. Who he loved.

Cress squeezed her arms tight over her chest.

After a long, bewildered minute, Thorne shook off the lingering effects of the manipulation and looked around, turning in a full circle. His hand smoothed down his unkempt hair.

“Cress?” he asked, not too loudly at first, but then, with growing worry, “Cress!”

“I’m here.”

He spun toward her and his body sagged with relief. “Spades. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. That was—”

“I don’t want to know.” Pus.h.i.+ng herself away from the wall, Cress started down the hallway.

Thorne chased after her. “Whoa, hey, hold on. Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” She swung her hands in a wild gesture. “You have the right to flirt with and kiss and proclaim your love for whoever you want to. Which is good, because you do. All the time.”