Stars Above (The Lunar Chronicles #4.5)(73)

After a moment in which he thought she might say more, Cinder looked down at Nainsi again and opened the panel on her back. “Why aren’t the royal mechanics fixing her?”

“They tried but couldn’t figure it out. Someone suggested I bring her to you.” Kai set the foot back on the table, then let his focus travel over the shelves that filled up the booth behind her. So many tools and pieces and parts. So many mysteries. “They say you’re the best mechanic in New Beijing. I was expecting an old man.”

He sort of meant it as a joke, but she didn’t laugh. “Do they?” she said, without removing her attention from Nainsi’s innards. He wanted her to say something, to give some indication as to how she had managed to earn such a reputation so quickly, but she just said, “Sometimes they just get worn out. Maybe it’s time to upgrade to a new model.”

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.”