Cinder

“Not exactly,” said Cinder, glancing over her shoulder at the netscreen. It continued to repeat the same line of text, unable to establish the direct link. “It seems someone installed a comm chip that didn’t meld well with your programming.”



“I come preinstalled with vid- and text-comm capabilities. A new comm chip would be unnecessary.”



“This was for a direct link.” Cinder settled her chin on her wrist. “Do you know if it was Prince Kai? If maybe he wanted to be able to get in touch with you without going through the net?”



“I was unaware of any direct communication chip in my programming.”



Cinder chewed her lip. Clearly the comm chip had been responsible for the android’s sudden malfunction, but why? And if Kai hadn’t installed it, then who had?



“When you woke up just now,” she said, “you were talking about…you have information on the Lunar heir.”



“That information was classified. You should not have heard it.”



“I know. But I think you were probably communicating it to someone when you were disabled.” Cinder prayed that it had been Kai, or someone loyal to him. She doubted that Queen Levana would be too happy to know that the soon-to-be emperor was searching for the rightful heir to her throne.



“Hold still,” she said, reaching for her screwdriver. “I’ll put your panel back on, and then take you back to the palace. In the meantime, you should download the news broadcasts from the last few days. A lot’s happened since you’ve been out.”



Chapter Twenty-Two



CINDER COULD HEAR DR. ERLAND’S WARNINGS IN HER HEAD, echoing like a damaged audio file, the entire six miles to the palace.



Queen Levana will stop at nothing to ensure her control, to terminate any resistance. That means killing those who could resist her—people like you.



If she were to see you, she would kill you.



And yet if something were to happen between the apartment and the palace to this android who had real information on the missing Lunar princess, Cinder would never forgive herself. It was her responsibility to get the android back to Kai, safe and sound.



Besides, the palace was a huge place. What were the chances she would run into the Lunar queen, who probably didn’t intend to spend much time socializing with the citizenry anyway?



Nainsi was much faster on her treads than Iko, and Cinder had to hurry to keep up with her. But their pace slowed as they discovered that they were not the only citizens on their way to the palace that afternoon. At the base of the cliff, the main road had been blocked off as it left the city behind and became the private drive of the palace, shaded by twisted pines and drooping willows. The winding street was filled with pedestrians making their slow way up the hill. Some walked alone, others in large cliques. Their conversations reached Cinder, irate and determined, arms flying in mad gestures. We don’t want her here. What could His Highness be thinking? The growing roar of the mob echoed down the road. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of angry voices chanting in unison.



“No moon queen! No moon queen! No moon queen!”



Turning the last corner, Cinder’s gaze fell on the crowd up ahead, filling up the courtyard before the palace’s maroon gates and spilling down the street. It was barely contained by a flustered row of security guards.



Signs bobbed over their heads. WAR IS BETTER THAN SLAVERY! WE NEED AN EMPRESS, NOT A DICTATOR! NO ALLIANCE WITH EVIL! Many included the queen’s veiled image slashed through with red Xs.



Half a dozen news hovers circled the sky, capturing footage of the protests for global broadcasting.



Cinder skirted the edge of the crowd, shoving her way to the main gate while trying to shield Nainsi’s compact body with her own. But upon reaching the gate, she found it closed and guarded by both humans and androids, standing shoulder to shoulder.



“Pardon me,” she said to the closest guard. “I need to get into the palace.”



The man stretched his arm toward her, pushing her back a step. “No entrance to the public today.”



“But I’m not with them.” She placed her hands on Nainsi’s head. “This android belongs to His Imperial Highness. I was hired to fix her, and now I’m returning her. It’s very important that she be returned to him as soon as possible.”



The guard peered down his nose at the android. “Did His Imperial Highness give you a pass?”



“Well, no, but—”



“Does the android have its ID?”



“I do.” Rotating her torso, Nainsi flashed her ID code at the guard.



He nodded. “You may enter.” The gates were opened, just barely, and it wasn’t a breath before the crowd surged forward. Cinder cried out at the rumble of angry voices in her ears and the sudden crush of bodies, shoving her into the security guard. Nainsi rolled through the gate without hesitation, but when Cinder moved to slip through behind her, the guard blocked her with his arm, straining against the crowd. “Just the android.”



“But we’re together!” she yelled over the chanting.



“No pass, no entrance.”



“But I fixed her! I need to deliver her. I need to…to collect payment.” Even she was put off by the whining in her voice.



“Send your invoice to the treasury like everyone else,” the man said. “No one is to be admitted without an issued pass.”



“Linh-mèi,” said Nainsi from the other side of the iron gate. “I will inform Prince Kai that you would like to see him. I’m sure he can comm you an official pass.”



Instantly, Cinder felt the weight of her silliness. Of course she didn’t need to see the prince. She had delivered the android; her job was done. And she wasn’t really going to bill him for her work, anyway. But Nainsi had turned away and rolled off toward the palace’s main entrance before Cinder could protest, leaving Cinder trying to come up with a reasonable excuse as to why it was so important to see Kai, something better than the very stupid, very childish reason that first entered her head. She simply wanted to.



The chanting stopped suddenly, making Cinder jump.



The crowd’s silence created a vacuum on the street, yearning to fill with breath, with sound, with anything. Cinder looked around, at the dazzled faces turned upward to the palace, at the lowered signs held in limp fingers. A ripple of fear stroked her spine.



She followed the gazes of the crowd up to a balcony that jutted from one of the palace’s highest stories.



The Lunar queen stood with one hand on her hip, the other on the balcony’s railing. Her expression was stern—bitter—but the look did nothing to dispel her uncanny beauty. Even from afar, Cinder could make out the pale luminescence of her skin, the ruby tinge of her lips. Her dark eyes were scanning the silenced crowd, and Cinder shrank back away from the gate, wanting to disappear behind the empty faces.



But the shock and terror was short-lived. This woman was not frightening, not dangerous.



She was warm. Welcoming. Generous. She should be their queen. She should rule them, guide them, protect them….



Cinder’s retina display flashed a warning at her. She tried in vain to wink it away, annoyed by the distraction. She wanted to look upon the queen forever. She wanted the queen to speak. To promise peace and security, wealth and comfort.



The orange light beamed in the corner of her vision. It took Cinder a moment to realize what it was, what it meant. She knew it was out of place. She knew it didn’t make sense.



Lies.



She squeezed her eyes shut. When she looked up again, the illusion of goodness had faded. The queen’s sweet smile had turned haughty and controlling. Cinder’s stomach curdled.



She was brainwashing them.



She had brainwashed her.



Cinder stumbled back a step, colliding with a senseless middle-aged man.



The queen’s gaze jerked toward them, focusing on Cinder. A wash of surprise flashed over her face. Then hatred. Disgust.



Cinder flinched, wanting to hide. Cold fingers clamped over her heart. She was compelled to run, yet her legs had melted beneath her. Her retina display was drawing confused lines over her vision as if it couldn’t stand to look upon the queen’s glamour a moment longer.



She felt naked and vulnerable, all alone in the brainwashed crowd. She was sure the earth beneath her feet would open up and swallow her whole. She was sure the queen’s gaze would turn her into a pile of ashes on the cobblestoned road.



The queen’s glower darkened until Cinder began to feel that, tear ducts or not, she would burst into tears.



But then the queen spun away, her shoulders back as she stormed into the palace.



With the queen gone, Cinder expected the crowd to take up their protests again, even angrier that she had dared show herself. But they didn’t. Slowly, as if sleepwalking, the crowd began to depart. Those with signs let them fall to the ground, to be trampled and forgotten. Cinder pulled back against the wall bordering the palace, out of the way as the citizens meandered past.



So this was the effect of the Lunar glamour, the spell to enchant, to deceive, to turn one’s heart toward you and against your enemies. And amid all these people who despised the Lunar queen, Cinder seemed to be the only one who had resisted her.



And yet, she hadn’t resisted her. Not at first. Gooseflesh covered her arms. Her skin ached where it melded with metal.



She had not been entirely immune to the glamour, the way shells were supposed to be.



Worse still, the Queen had seen her, and she had known.



Chapter Twenty-Three



KAI DUG HIS FINGERNAILS INTO HIS KNEES WHEN THE chanting of the protestors ceased. Torin turned toward him, their expressions mirrors of surprise, though Torin was quicker to disguise it. The queen’s success at calming the crowd had been far too easy; Kai had hoped for at least a hint of struggle from the citizens.



Gulping, Kai morphed his face back into collectedness.



“It is a most useful trick,” said Sybil, sitting on the edge of the chaise lounge by the holographic fire. “Particularly when dealing with unruly citizens, which are never tolerated on Luna.”



“I’ve heard that when citizens are unruly, there’s usually a good reason for it,” said Kai. Torin flashed him a warning frown, but he ignored it. “And brainwashing doesn’t exactly seem like the proper solution.”



Sybil folded her hands politely in her lap. “Proper is such a subjective word. This solution is effective, and that can hardly be argued with.”



Levana flew back into the parlor with clenched fists. Kai’s pulse ratcheted when the queen’s glare fell on him. Being in her presence was like sitting in a confined room that was quickly running out of oxygen.



“It would appear,” she said, carefully enunciating each word, “that you are in violation of the Interplanetary Agreement of 54 T.E., Article 17.”