memory (all alone in the moonlight)

It was the second palace Cinder had ever found herself in, and by far her lesser favorite.

What a shame, that this one was hers.

Artemisia Palace was all white stone- all marble and regolith, all long hallways and grand archways and intricately carved pillars. It was a maze in some ways, a monument in others, and a tomb in all. Though she had never believed in ghosts, and would likely continue to not believe in ghosts, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being haunted as she drifted through the empty halls. This was where her ancestors had walked- all the family she couldn’t remember, and struggled to connect herself to. She couldn’t shake the feeling she didn’t belong here.

Cinder felt no more haunted than when she stood in front of her mother’s portrait.

Channary Blackburn had lived from 86 to 110 T.E., and had died when she was only twenty-five. Cinder, herself, would’ve been just under a year old the day she died. Cinder couldn’t remember her. When she looked into the sharp, brown eyes of her mother’s portrait, the eyes that looked so much like her own but so different, she saw nothing but a ghost of herself. Her mother looked so much like her, she could understand how Levana would’ve recognized the resemblance. Channary was Cinder, without the imperfections. Without the grime near-permanently on her skin, or the acne on her chin, or the hairline scars from a life spent fighting. Cinder’s mother didn’t have chapped lips, or greasy hair, or a metallic, prosthetic hand. She wondered if this was what Kai had seen, that long-ago night at the ball. She wondered if the sight had unnerved him as much as it did her.

Cinder had long wondered about what her mother was like. Even before she had learned she was Lunar, or of her identity as the lost princess Selene, she had wondered. Before she knew the truth, Cinder spent long nights comforting herself with the idea of a dead mother that had loved her. While Adri loathed her, and would have never loved her as a daughter, she knew that, at some point in her life, there had been a woman who loved her that way. A mother who, though now dead and gone, had truly loved her. When Dr. Erland- Dr. Darnel, she supposed she should think of him now- had told her the lie that she was a shell, it had only reinforced that belief. Whoever her mother was, she had risked her life to take Cinder to earth, to make sure she was safe from Luna’s shell infanticide laws, even if it meant she would never see her child again.

Even when she had learned the truth, that she was a lost lunar princess and the daughter of a very dead queen, she held onto that hope like it was a liferaft in the middle of a stormy sea. Maybe, just maybe, in the three years she had spent from birth until her failed assasination, she had been loved. Maybe, there had been someone who cared for her. It was a very strong ‘maybe’. After all, her aunt, the then-closest thing to a maternal figure she had left, had tried to burn her alive.

Levana had been cruel, and Cinder knew not to believe the lies she told, but she also knew better than to dismiss them entirely. Levana had told Cinder her mother was cruel and sadistic, that she was no better a queen than Levana herself had been, or any of the many lunar monarchs that had preceded her. It was very likely that she had not loved Cinder any more than Levana herself did. And even if she did, would Cinder want the love of such a cruel woman?

Nevertheless, she still lingered by her mother’s portrait, whenever she passed it in the halls. She had spent weeks now in the palace, and it caught her eye every time. The first time, she had almost thought it was a portrait of herself- a strange portrait, hea, made by someone who probably hadn’t ever seen her in person. She was only slightly relieved when she found it wasn’t actually her. It was the ghost of a mother she would never meet. A woman who haunted these halls as much as she did now.

Artemisia Palace was so full of ghosts, it seemed they nearly outnumbered the living.

They had placed Cinder in ornate, grand chambers befitting a queen, and not entirely befitting a cyborg mechanic who had never slept on a mattress bigger than a twin. Even with nearly a month spent on Luna, staying in these chambers, she still felt like an imposter entering them. The space was too grand, too courtly. Too Lunar, though she would never admit it herself.

There was a bed, in the far corner of the room- a grand and large one, with wispy curtains over its frame. There was a mirrorless vanity and a large desk. There was a door out onto the balcony that overlooked the lake. It was once again the long night on Luna. Crescent Earth reflected in the misty waters of the lake, though Cinder didn’t want to look at it. She did not have the emotional strength to long for her home world now.

Nearly all her friends were back there. While Iko had insisted to remain at her side, and Jacin and Winter of course remained on Luna where they were needed, the others had obligations. Kai, of course, had to return to his duty as Emperor- at least one of their countries deserved its competent leader. Thorne and Cress were on the Rampion, distributing the plague cure to the most affected areas, and for at least the time being Scarlet and Wolf were with her. And Cinder was stuck on Luna, attempting to run a monarchy she had no experience with. What she wouldn’t give to be with her friends, making changes she could actually see instead of wrestling with bureaucracy and pre-planning her various ‘media appearances’. At least then, she’d feel like herself.

Cinder turned away from Luna, and began readying herself for a night of tumultuous sleep. She had not once slept well on Luna- something about the artificial day-night cycle and the recycled air, she suspected- and she didn’t have high hopes for tonight. She untied her greasy hair, splashed cold water on her face, and collapsed on her bed before she could change into her nightclothes.

Before her exhaustion could claim her, Cinder was alerted by a knock at her door. “Come in,” She called out, thinking it was Iko with more news (palace gossip) or welcome companionship. After all, Iko was the only regular evening visitor she had, at least in terms of ones that came with good news.

But the lithe, dark form that slipped through wasn’t Iko’s. It was Winter’s.

Even after spending over a month with her long-lost cousin (or, rather, the cousin she had been long-lost by), Cinder could not consider herself especially close to Winter. She had tried, desperately, to remember the woman as a girl, recall the distant past they had once shared as children, but couldn’t. Those memories, like all the rest from her short life spent on Luna, had been taken from her.

“Winter,” Cinder said in greeting, rising from her bed. She knew she was a mess, and subconsciously brushed her hair out of her face, in an attempt to look better.

Winter’s gaze, which had been drifting ambivalently across the room, finally settled on Cinder with the gentle surprise the princess’s face seemed uniquely capable of embodying. She wore a long, flowing nightgown that seemed to float in an invisible wind. In the cool light of the perpetual night, she seemed almost a ghost- one of the many spirits haunting Artemisia.

“Sele-”Winter began, then stopped herself. “Cinder, good evening. I do hope I am not intruding on your time.”Even her voice was lilting, ethereal.

“No, you’re fine. It’s fine.”Cinder quickly reassured, and got up to greet Winter in what she assumed was proper etiquette. She adjusted her shirt as she walked, and wondered if any ignorant outsider was viewing the two of them, how funny they might find it that she was the queen. “Is- is there anything you need? Anything wrong?”