Page 41 of Cinder
He had been meant to lose Prince Lorenz someday. Cin reminded himself of that as the afternoon pressed on and the rest of his family piled into their carriage. Still, Cin lingered in the kitchen, scrubbing the same pot he’d been working on throughout the day—a tricky burnt spot of beans caked to the bottom after Manfred had failed to let Cin know when their dinner last night had come to a boil. Every shove of the brush against the caked burn spot left Cin more restless.
He had denied that loss’s premature arrival before. He’d ascended the castle wall the night he’d been left off the prince’s list, and asked to go away with him when the party seemed benton cutting their time together short. He’d had the courage, the fire, to go after what he’d wanted then. For once in his life, it had seemed so easy, so right.
Had seemed like it wouldn’t end this way: angry, and empty.
Cin dropped the half-cleaned pot with more force than necessary, sweeping out the back door without a thought to where he was going, only that he had to move.
He had to know whether the prince would live the rest of his life despising Cin.
He had to—
But he couldn’t look Prince Lorenz in the face and see the same haunted, disgusted expression he had the week before. Cin knew, without a doubt, that he wouldn’t survive that again. If nothing changed, though, he didn’t think he could survive this either.
His legs ached to carry him back down the road, through town—to the well woman’s husband, or any other bastard. He needed to see the red drip down his hands again, and know that he deserved this. That the sin was worth the justice, his pain worth their healing.
Cin understood, though, deep within himself, that to rush through another killing was the wrong choice too, and instead he turned and turned, his feet on a track as chaotic as his thoughts as he paced back and forth, marking a trail through the garden. With a cry of desperation, he collapsed to his knees on his mother’s grave, dropping his head to the wet grass.
“I saw your towers,” he hissed at the dirt, wishing he could feel his voice resonate inside her bones. “I danced with the prince—I climbed over those goddamn walls for him. I brought himhomewith me. What more do Ineed?” Hot, wet tears slid down his nose.
He’d done so much, let himselfwantso very much, and yet just like that, their relationship had meant nothing.
Cin could sense one of his pigeons at his side, feel the gust of a wing and hear the soft shifting of the grass. The deep, fond coo was Ragimund. Cin twisted his head to watch the fluffy brown and white bird. Gently, Rags nibbled on Cin’s nose. Cin sniffled.
The thought of not going, of kneeling there at his mother’s grave for the rest of the night, pathetic and miserable… He could already sense the desolation of inaction curling around his heart, trying to drag him down into the grass, into the dirt. Into nothingness; just a blade and a body to collect blood and ash for the rest of his life. Just what he’d always been, before Prince Lorenz.
As Cin sat himself up, Lacey landed on his shoulder like a tiny angelic being, her gray feathers so soft as she rubbed against his neck. Then, she fit her beak around his earlobe andpulled.
“Hey!” Cin chided her.
She hopped, pulling again, and Rags joined her on Cin’s other shoulder, running his little brown head into the side of Cin’s as he squawked. As though that wasn’t enough, Perdition hurled herself at Cin like a battering ram, driving him to his feet and toward the front of the garden. More birds swooped with her, creating a guiding stream around Cin.
“All right, all right,” Cin grumbled, giving in to their pressure. “You knowheleftme, don’t you?”
But that wasn’t entirely accurate. Prince Lorenz had left, but he hadn’t said he never wanted to see Cin again. He’d been distant, condemning even, but not once had he told Cin not to come back. It was a pathetic hope, so ridiculous that Cin nearly dismissed it. Being ridiculous had gotten him there, though: dreaming, and wanting, andtaking. There were still two ball nights left up for grabs. So Cin took again, one step toward the castle.
His birds continued to swoop and the patterns of Cin’s ball glamor folded out from his ordinary clothes. He tried to removehis feathered cloak, but it spilled immediately back into place, the magic transferring it from the ground to his shoulders like a wisp of shadow: real, then not, then real again.
The whole outfit boasted the same feathers that Cin had left in his victim last week. Someone would notice… or they wouldn’t. He supposed that was the cost of his sins, after all: he had to choose now, to be safe or tobe.
And to keepbeing, he had to see Prince Lorenz in person, speak with him, even if it was for the last time, and know whether there was anything left between them to salvage.
The wind whipped like needles against Cin’s face as his magical steed tore down the road. He fixed his gaze on the glimmer of the castle’s towers, ignoring the dark trees and farms around him as they were replaced by lights and music, every party he could have attended blocked out of his mind in favor of one thing: one piece of information. It was later than ever before by the time he made it to the gates, no line remaining with the list so cut down. Only one of the doors had been opened, a single primary watch member guarding it from in front, though Cin could glimpse a far greater number beyond. Extra security would be reasonable after a murder so near the castle the previous ball-night, Cin told himself.
He recognized the main guard, and—unlike the week when Cin had been forced to scale the castle walls—Berit also seemed to recognize Cin.
Their face paled slightly, and Cin held his breath.
“Apologies, Cinder-Ella, but you’ve not been included in the general castle attendance this week,” they said, an awkward tremble to the words.
Cin felt the weight of all his hope crash back into him. Everything inside him felt wrong: twisted. This world blurred around him as he told himself to breathe, just breathe. This was the answer he’d expected. It was better than nothing, butas he sat there, his limbs numb around his steed and Perdition nuzzling his jawline, it wasn’tenough.
Berit had stepped closer, and they were still speaking, slightly hushed, but it took Cin an extra moment for their words to even register. “You should leave—”
“I have to see him,” Cin said, growing more insistent with each word, more desperate. He could feel himself falling apart at the thought of leaving, the kind of falling that would land him back on his mother’s grave so hard he was unsure whether he’d rise again.
Berit looked nervous, shaking their head. “I’m sorry—”
“Just for a minute.” Cin clenched his reins, staring out past Berit’s head, down the path toward the castle. “Please, Berit. I know he’s your friend—”
