Battles of the Mind

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Lunar Chronicles

Copyright: Marissa Meyer

Wolf's first impression of the girl named Scarlet was one of deep admiration. Not just because she was beautiful, with her fiery cascade of curls, chocolate-brown eyes and curves even her sweater couldn't hide; beautiful in an honest, natural way that had nothing to do with any kind of glamour. Not just because she was funny, teasing him about his appetite, suggesting he order an entire pig. Not even because the tomatoes she claimed to grow were so delicious, sweet and juicy and entirely unexpected. No – it was her courage, more than anything, that made him unable to take his eyes off her.

How many Earthens would have the guts to climb up on a tavern counter, disable the netscreens, and speak out in defense of a fugitive Lunar cyborg?

"You all should have some respect!" she shouted, right over the voices of the jeering crowd. "That girl's about to be executed!"

Wolf silently agreed. Unlike the other patrons, he knew what Linh Cinder had been after at the Peace Festival. Now that he was out from under the influence of the thaumaturges, his thoughts were his own, and he found he hated Queen Levana for what she had forced him and countless other children to become. The mad little cyborg who had come so close to killing her was a girl after his own heart.

Of course the idiot humans protested. Of course they tried to shout her down. But when a red-faced, beer-bellied, obviously drunk man staggered to his feet and pretended to defend the outspoken girl, that was when Wolf began to see red.

"Hey, give Scarlet a break!" he slurred. "We all know crazy runs in her family. First the old goose runs off, now Scarlet's defending Lunar rights!"

Scarlet – so that's her name – jumped off the counter and seized the fat man by his shirtfront, snarling in his face, like a confident beta issuing a challenge. "My grandma's not crazy!" she hissed. "Is that what you told the police, that she was crazy?"

The police? Her grandmother was missing? A faint chill began creeping up Wolf's spine, a subtle whisper of wrongness, but he ignored it in favour of watching the argument. In a straight fight, Scarlet could probably take that lump of lard easily enough, but outnumbered like this – even with that gun whose powder he could smell under her sweater – she was in trouble. He had the strangest impulse to stand up and defend her, as she had done for his unknown countrywoman. Idiot, he thought to himself. The last thing you want is to call attention to yourself.

But still, she was alone against hopeless odds. He knew all too well how that felt.

The mention of a name jolted him out of his thoughts, turned the chill in his spine to ice and the whisper of wrongness to a roar.

"I'm not a bit surprised," the fat man sneered, "That Granny Benoit split her last rocket."

Granny Benoit.

Wolf's sandwich slipped from his fingers, ham and sauce scattered messily over his plate. If any religion had been permitted on Luna besides worship of the Queen, he would have prayed to be wrong.

This was Scarlet Benoit, granddaughter of Michelle Benoit, companion of eight years, the only possible keeper of her secrets. This lovely, witty, courageous girl was the one he had been ordered to befriend and betray.

Of all the times he could have come down here for lunch, why did it have to be right now? Of all the girls who could have brought his sandwich, why did it have to be her?

He did not stop to think. If he had, he might have left the tavern and never looked back. It was something stronger than reason, deeper than duty, which made him cross the liquor-sticky floor and pick up Scarlet's opponent by the throat, and hold him aboveground until he was thoroughly subdued.

"What's wrong with you?" the fool spluttered, rubbing his throat.

"You were being disrespectful."

Wolf ignored the terrified outrage all around him, the manager's indignation, even the glowing eyes of the yellow-haired girl who had tried to break up the fight. He was aware of nothing except Scarlet's face, watching him with combined fear and admiration in her wide brown eyes.

He felt torn in three pieces. His soldier's conditioning screamed at him to follow her, spy on her, learn as much about the Benoit family as possible, so that when he brought her back to his master, his report would be complete. The remains of the boy Ze'ev, whom all these years of training could not kill, begged to turn away. All he wanted, all he had ever wanted, was his freedom back again. Now that he finally had it, why risk it all for some Earthen he barely knew?

But it was something else, something stronger than both these sides of him, that guided his steps out to Scarlet's airship and spoke to her out of his mouth. Something that had awoken at his first glimpse of her blazing eyes, the first sound of her voice ringing in the defense of one of his people.

She is mine, said that something. I will protect her.

And for the rest of his life, that was exactly what he did.