Stars Above: A Lunar Chronicles Collection (The Lunar Chronicles) (29 page)

It took him a second to realize she was talking about Nainsi.

Kai shook his head, but she wasn’t looking at him. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. She contains top-secret information. It’s a matter of national security that I retrieve it … before anyone else does.” He wanted to sound mysterious. He wanted to sound
witty
, even if it was the truth.

Cinder looked up, speculation scrawled across her face.

He aimed for nonchalant as he continued, “I’m just joking. Nainsi was my first android. It’s sentimental.”

Her brief silence was disconcerting. “National security. Funny.”

It was the most deadpan compliment he’d ever heard. She wasn’t amused. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she knew he was lying.

Maybe, a small voice whispered in his head, he wanted her to think he was lying. He wanted her to believe he had some life-or-death agenda that required her assistance. Maybe he was trying to impress her, at least a little.

Which was absurd.

He was a prince.

He was
the
prince.

Perhaps the title itself didn’t count for much, but Kai had spent his life making it more than just a title. He had studied his country’s history and politics, sat in on state dinners, and quizzed his father’s cabinet members on aspects of public policy. He’d watched his father’s speeches over and over until he could write a perfectly crafted speech of his own—it wasn’t until he was a teenager that he’d realized his father had speechwriters to do that for him. He had long ago determined that he would not let his birthright go unearned, that the history texts would not condemn him as an unworthy emperor. And while he may still have been plagued with doubts every single day, he knew, deep down, that he was doing his very best.

And it had been a long, long time since he had met someone who wasn’t impressed by that.

It had also been a long, long time since he had cared.

“Tutor8.6 model,” said Cinder, reading off Nainsi’s panel. “She looks to be in pristine condition.”

Kai opened his mouth to agree, but before he could, Cinder raised a fist and brought it hard against the side of Nainsi’s spherical head. Kai jumped in surprise. The android began to topple off the table, but Cinder caught her easily and set her back on her treads. She seemed almost—
almost
—sheepish when she said, “You’d be surprised how often that works.”

Kai laughed, a little awkwardly. He was no longer sure exactly who was trying to impress who … or if either of them were succeeding. “Are you sure you’re Linh Cinder? The mechanic?”

A high-pitched voice interrupted them, along with the crunch of android treads on the street. “Cinder! I’ve got it!”

Kai turned to see a servant android rolling toward them, its blue sensor light flashing excitedly.

The android slammed a second robotic foot onto the table, its plating shiny and clean compared with the old one’s. “It’s a huge improvement over the old one, only lightly used, and the wiring looks compatible as is. Plus, I was able to get the dealer down to just six hundred univs.”

The mechanic grabbed the new foot and dropped it behind the table. “Good work, Iko. Nguyen-shìfu will be delighted to have a replacement foot for his escort-droid.”

“Nguyen-shìfu?” said the android. “I don’t compute.”

With a nervous smile, Cinder tilted her head toward Kai. “Iko, please pay your respects to our customer … His Imperial Highness.”

The android tilted back her bulbous head. Though androids didn’t have genders, many personality chips were programmed to identify more male or female, and it was clear from the high voice that this was a she. It was an easy connection for Kai to make—after all, this Iko had a similar body style to Nainsi, who he’d always thought of as a
she
as well
.

The android’s sensor flashed as she scanned Kai’s face. “Prince Kai,” she said, her voice taking on the unexpected tinge of a sigh. “You are even more handsome in person.”

Kai laughed—a sudden, uncontrollable laugh that burst out of him before he could reel it back.

“That’s enough, Iko,” said Cinder. “Get in the booth.”

The android obeyed, ducking under the tablecloth.

Still grinning, Kai leaned against the sturdy frame of the booth’s rolling door. “You don’t see a personality like that every day. Did you program her yourself?”

Cinder started to smile, too, and though it had a sardonic edge to it, Kai felt like he’d won something. “Believe it or not, she came that way. I suspect a programming error, which is probably why my stepmother got her so cheap.”

“I do not have a programming error!” Iko’s irate voice screeched from behind one of the towering shelves.

Kai chuckled again. Cinder caught his eye for a brief moment before she looked away.

Back at Nainsi.

The reason he was here. The oh-so-important reason.

Why was he so distracted?

He lowered the zipper on his sweatshirt a hair. The heat was becoming unbearable. His shirt would be drenched with sweat by the time he got back to the hover, and he was grateful that it hadn’t yet seeped through the sweatshirt.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

“I’ll need to run her diagnostics. It will take me a few days, maybe a week.” Cinder pushed a strand of hair behind one ear and lowered herself into a chair.

Only then did Kai realize that she’d been trembling a little. Maybe she was dehydrated.

He thought of offering to go get her some water, but then remembered that she had an android assistant to do those things for her. So instead, he held up his ID-implanted wrist and asked, “Do you need payment up front?”

Cinder was waving away the suggestion almost before he’d finished. “No, thank you. It will be my honor.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but hesitated. This wasn’t uncommon when he was dealing with small business owners—they seemed to think that his patronage was payment enough, or maybe the publicity that would be gained from it. Arguing over a payment generally led to the vendor feigning offense and him feeling like a braggart.

He lowered his hand and shifted his attention to Nainsi again. “I don’t suppose there’s any hope of having her done before the festival?”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” said Cinder, shutting Nainsi’s control panel. “But without knowing what’s wrong with her—”

“I know, I know.” Kai hooked his thumbs on his sweatshirt pockets and rocked back on his heels. Ever since he’d started searching for Princess Selene it had been his dream to announce her survival and imminent reclamation of her throne at the annual ball. It was, after all, a celebration of world peace. He could think of no greater gift to his country than ridding them of Queen Levana, their sneakiest and most deceitful enemy. “Just wishful thinking.”

“How will I contact you when she’s ready?”

“Send a comm to the palace.” Kai paused, remembering Sybil Mira—the Lunar Queen’s own minion. Remembering how important it was that she never suspect he was searching for the missing princess, or doing anything else to undermine Levana’s rule. Quickly, he added, “Or will you be here again next weekend? I could stop by then.”

Iko’s voice chirped from the back, “Oh, yes! We’re here every market day. You should come by again. That would be lovely.”

Cinder winced. “You don’t need to—”

“It’ll be my pleasure.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not only would this allow for him to keep the transaction discreet, but it also meant that he would be picking up Nainsi in person, rather than having her dropped off with some nameless assistant at the palace. It meant he was sure to see Linh Cinder again.

Maybe he could learn more about her then.

Maybe he’d make her smile. A
real
smile.

Maybe …

Maybe he needed another hobby.

He nodded a farewell to her. She returned the nod, but didn’t stand or bow—all professional politeness, without much of the royal courtesy he was used to. It was sort of refreshing.

Pulling the hood over his face again, he turned and slipped back into the bustling crowd.

He felt lighter than he had in days as he made his way back to the hover car. He knew that nothing was resolved, not yet. His father was still dying, his country was still in danger, and Nainsi was still unable to share her secrets.

But there was something about Linh Cinder. Something capable and confident, even if she had been a little nervous to be talking to him. There was something about her that went beyond an unexpected reputation.

The knot in his chest loosened, just a little. Linh Cinder was going to solve this problem. He knew it. She was going to fix Nainsi, and then he would be able to retrieve the lost information about the princess. He would find Selene and, for the first time in generations, Earth would have a true ally in Luna.

He was optimistic as he left the weekly market behind. More optimistic than he had been in weeks.

That mechanic was going to change everything.

Something Old, Something New

C
inder squeezed the suitcase shut with a sigh of finality. Iko had been pestering her all week about what she was and wasn’t going to pack, insisting on a variety of gowns and uncomfortable shoes and rolling her eyes at Cinder’s constant reminders that they would be spending most of this trip on a
farm.
With cows and chickens and mud.

“Just because you’re not a queen anymore,” Iko had said, her hands fisted on her hips, “doesn’t mean you get to go back to looking like you just rolled out of an engine compartment.”

Together they had finally agreed on a few pairs of comfortable pants and lightweight blouses, plus a simple emerald-green cocktail dress—“Just in case,” Iko had insisted.

Cinder stepped back and looked at the suitcase with some trepidation, trying to determine what she’d forgotten, but she knew the nerves writhing in her stomach had nothing to do with what she would wear or the possibility of leaving something behind—after all, they had shops on Earth.

No, she was nervous to be leaving.

For the first time since her official abdication, she was leaving Luna.

She had been back to Earth only once since she’d reclaimed her place upon the Lunar throne. She had kept to her promise and been Kai’s date to the Commonwealth’s ball last year, and it had been … terrifying. But also extraordinary. The people of Earth still weren’t sure what to do with the fact that one of their beloved leaders was not so secretly dating a Lunar, and a cyborg Lunar at that. There had been protests. There had been countless comedy skits taking jabs at a romance that most of the world deemed unconventional, even offensive. There had been jealous, hateful glares from the other guests, and live newsfeeds that criticized everything from Cinder’s gown to her posture to her sarcastic (i.e.,
tasteless
) sense of humor.

She would have been humiliated, or possibly furious, if it hadn’t also been for the amazing things that had come from that trip.

Iko had been one of the stars of the ball—the first android to ever receive an official invitation.

Dozens of kids had asked Cinder to autograph their portscreens, calling her a role model and a hero.

There had been her elation at seeing her friends again.

There had been all the Earthens who
weren’t
against her. In fact, her critics were in the minority, at least according to Iko’s frequent updates and reminders. There were plenty of people who defended her against the outcry, reminding the world that she was the girl who had saved them from Levana and done nothing but show loyalty to Earth and display bravery worth commending.

And, of course, there was Kai. The way he had looked at her when she first stepped off the spaceship and onto the platform at New Beijing Palace had been encapsulated in her memory. She had long felt a homesickness for Earth. Despite how hard she’d fought to rescue the country she knew so little about, Luna had never felt like home, not even after two years of living here. She’d thought she was homesick for New Beijing, even though her life with Adri hadn’t felt like much of a home, either.

It wasn’t until that moment, seeing Kai’s smile and being wrapped up in his arms—both of them ignoring the fact that the world was watching—that she realized
he
was the home she’d been missing.

In the months since then, relations with Earth had grown stronger, and it seemed the Eastern Commonwealth citizens were gradually coming to terms with their emperor’s unusual romantic choice. Cinder’s abdication hadn’t hurt. From the moment she’d announced her plan to dissolve the Lunar monarchy and host elections for a democratic ruling system, the people of Earth had rejoiced. To them, it was the ultimate political statement. The promise that there would never again be a Queen Levana.

Lunars hadn’t been quite as enthusiastic about her choice, but once nominations ensued and election campaigns were under way, the mind-set of the country shifted. There was a potential to this system that hadn’t been there under royal rule: Every one would be represented, and any of their children could grow up to be a leader. It was a new way of thinking, especially for those in the outer sectors, and Cinder had been immensely relieved when her plan gained traction. When the ballots were released, almost every single citizen had cast a vote.

She had never been so proud of an accomplishment, not even the revolution that had ended Levana’s reign.

A knock thumped at her door and Iko entered, bouncing like a kangaroo. “They’re here! I just got the comm from port security—the Rampion has arrived!”

“Good,” said Cinder, with a firm nod at her suitcase. “I’m ready to go.”

Iko paused and took in the suitcase with a disbelieving frown. “Is that all you’re bringing?”

“That’s it. Why? How many suitcases are you bringing?”

“Three, and that was after I pared it down.” She placed a hand on Cinder’s arm. “Don’t worry. If you run out of clothes, I’ll lend you some of mine. Kinney?” Iko glanced back. “Would you be a dear and take Ambassador Linh-Blackburn’s luggage down to the docks?”