Lunar Chronicles #4 Winter - Page 132

“h.e.l.lo, Highness. We heard you might be down here.”

Some of the soldiers s.h.i.+fted aside, making a clear aisle between the thaumaturges and Winter.

“h.e.l.lo, Thaumaturge Holt,” Winter answered, rising onto her wobbly legs, though they were aching. She felt like she should be afraid of these men and women—normally the sight of their coats and embroidered runes filled her with anxiety and dread and a thousand memories of people dying on the throne room floor. But all her fear had been used up.

“When the system picked up on your identification, I thought it must be a mistake. I did not think even you would be crazy enough to come here.” His gaze cut over the soldiers. “Were you not hungry? Or were the girls not appetizing enough for your tastes?”

“Oh, they were very hungry indeed,” said Winter, struggling to her feet. “Isn’t that right, alpha-friends, wolf-friends?” Her head swayed to one side. “But I had hoped they might protect me and fight for me, if I could remind them they were men once, men who did not wish to be monsters.”

“Turns out,” said Scarlet, “they’re just Levana’s trained dogs after all.”

A handful of the soldiers cast them cool glares.

Thaumaturge Holt scoffed. “I’d heard about your sharp tongue.” His gaze dipped toward the stubbed finger on Scarlet’s hand. “Say and think what you want, Earth child. These soldiers know their duty. They were created to carry out Her Majesty’s bidding, and they will do it without complaint.”

“Is that so?”

Winter wasn’t sure which of them had spoken, but the words were so full of loathing they made her skin crawl.

Holt glowered at the surrounding men, c.o.c.ky and hateful. “I trust this isn’t dissension I’m detecting, Regiment 117. Her Majesty would be disappointed if she heard some of her prized soldiers were showing disrespect to their masters.”

“Prized puppies, you mean,” muttered Scarlet. “Will they each be getting their own diamond collar too?”

“Scarlet-friend,” Winter whispered, “you are being inconsiderate.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “They are about to kill us, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Yes, we are,” said Holt. “Men, you may kill these traitors.”

Winter sucked in a breath, but Alpha Strom raised a hand—and none of the soldiers moved. “Interesting that you mentioned our masters before, as you seem to be missing a few.”

The seven thaumaturges behind Holt remained as statues, staring into the ranks. Winter counted. There were eleven packs in this regiment. There would have to be eleven thaumaturges to control them.

“I will forgive your ignorance in this matter,” Holt said through clenched teeth, “as you could not have known that our country is in upheaval. Some of our highest-ranking thaumaturges and guards and even soldiers, like you, were murdered today, along with an attempted a.s.sa.s.sination on our queen. So you see, we do not have time for discussions. I ordered you to kill these girls. If you refuse, I will do it myself, and you will be punished for failing to obey a direct order.”

Winter felt the bodies around her s.h.i.+ft, as they had when they first surrounded her and Scarlet. Moving almost imperceptibly closer. Tightening a knot.

“Too bad you did all that tampering with our brains,” said Alpha Strom. “Otherwise you could have manipulated us, right? Forced us to follow your command. Instead, you’ve turned us into a bunch of wild animals.”

“A pack of hungry wolves,” someone growled.

“Killers,” Winter whispered to herself. “Predators, all.”

They moved around Winter and Scarlet like water around a rock. Winter grabbed Scarlet’s wrist and tugged her close, their shoulders tight together.

“You didn’t make me to be good at math,” Strom continued, “but by my count, you couldn’t punish all of us, even if you wanted to.”

They had half circled around the thaumaturges, who were showing uncertainty now.

“Enough,” Holt snapped. “I order you to—”

The tension exploded before he could finish. The soldiers converged on their masters, mouths snarling and enormous hands ready to shred and claw and tear.

Like a sonic pulse, dozens of soldiers fell to the ground, writhing and grasping their heads. Knuckles whitened as they pressed their fingertips against their scalps, screaming in pain. The few left standing bounded over their fallen comrades with faces twisted in rage.

Winter flinched, watching as Alpha Strom, who had fallen in front of her, curled into a fetal position and screamed. But it was cut short, and replaced with retching and a whimper, his eyes shut tight as he tried to block out whatever was being done to him.

That whimper cascaded into Winter like a memory. Ryu behind her. The sound of Jacin’s knife. The warm, sticky blood.

Winter dropped to the ground and crawled toward Strom, rubbing her hands over his misshapen face, trying her best to soothe him. The tips of her fingers cracked, devastatingly cold.

The fight, if it could be called a fight, was over in seconds. Winter couldn’t recall the thaumaturges even having the time to cry out. There was the crunch of bones, the tearing of tissue, and it was over. A quick glance confirmed eight b.l.o.o.d.y bodies inside the cavern’s entrance, and a couple dozen soldiers standing over them, wiping the blood from their chins and digging the flesh from beneath their fingernails.

Winter’s breath fogged in the air. The cold was in her stomach too, icing over.