Er, a planet and a moon.
Or whatever.
The point was, there would be 384,000 kilometers of space between them, and that was a lot of space and—
Kai smiled, effectively breaking the kiss. “What’s wrong?” he murmured against her mouth.
Flinching, Cinder leaned back to look at him. His hair was getting longer, bordering on unkempt. As a prince, he’d always been groomed to near-perfection. But then he’d become an emperor. The weeks since his coronation had been spent trying to stop a war, hunt down a wanted fugitive, avoid getting married, and endure his own kidnapping. As a result, regular haircuts had become a dispensable luxury.
She hesitated before asking, “Do you ever think about the future?”
His expression turned wary. “Of course I do.”
“And … does it include me?”
His gaze softened in a way that made her pulse skip. Releasing the overhead pipe, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That depends on whether I’m thinking about the good future or the bad one.”
Cinder shut her eyes and tucked her head under his chin. “As long as one of them does.”
“This is going to work,” Kai said, speaking into her hair. “We’re going to win.”
She nodded, glad he couldn’t see her face.
Because defeating Levana and becoming Luna’s queen was only half her worry—which seemed like plenty enough.
It was only the precursor to an entire galaxy’s worth of worries. She so badly wanted to stay just like this, cocooned in this little spaceship, together and safe and alone … but that was the opposite of what was really going to happen. Once they overthrew Levana, Kai would go back to being the emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth. And someday, he was going to need an empress.
She may have had a blood claim to Luna, and the hope that the Lunar people would choose anyone over Levana, even a politically inept teenager who was made up of 36.28 percent cybernetic and manufactured materials.
But she had seen the prejudices of the people in the Commonwealth. Something told her they wouldn’t be as accepting of her.
Even if they were, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to be empress. She was still getting used to the idea of being a princess.
“One thing at a time,” she whispered, trying to still the hopelessness that swirled through her thoughts.
Kai kissed her temple (which her brain did not count as #18), then pulled away. “How’s your training going?”
She disentangled herself from his arms. “Fine.” She glanced around the engine. “Oh, hey, while I have you here, maybe you can help me with this.” Scooting around him, she opened a panel on the wall, revealing a bundle of knotted wires.
“That was a subtle change of subject.”
“I am not changing the subject,” she said, although a forced clearing of her throat negated her denial. “I’m rewiring the orbital defaults, so the ship’s systems will run more efficiently while we’re coasting. These cargo ships are really made for frequent landings and takeoffs, not the constant—”
“Cinder.”
She pursed her lips and unplugged a few wire connectors. “Training is going fine,” she repeated. “Could you hand me the wire cutters on the floor?”
Kai scanned the ground, then grabbed two tools and held them up.
“Left hand,” she said. He handed them to her. “Sparring with Wolf has actually gotten a lot easier. Although it’s hard to tell if that’s because I’m getting stronger, or because he’s … you know.”
She didn’t have a word for it. Wolf had been a shadow of his former self since Scarlet had been captured, and the only thing that seemed to be holding him together was his determination to get to Luna and rescue her as soon as possible.
“Either way,” she added, “I think he’s taught me as much about using my Lunar gift as he’s going to be able to. From here on, I’ll just have to wing it.” She examined the mess of wires, aligning it with a diagram over her retina display. “Not like that hasn’t been my primary tactic this whole time.” She furrowed her brow and made a few quick snips. “Here, hold these wires, and make sure they don’t touch.”
Edging against her, Kai took hold of the wires she indicated. “What happens if they touch?”
“Oh, the ship will probably self-destruct.” Pulling out two of the fresh-cut wires, she began to twist them together into a new sequence.
Kai barely seemed to breathe until she’d taken one of the threatening wires out of his grip. “Why don’t you practice on me?” he said.
“Practice what?”
“You know. Your mind-manipulation thing.”
She paused with the cutters hovering over a blue wire and peered at him from the corner of her eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Because I said I’d never manipulate you, and I’m sticking with that.”
“It isn’t really manipulation if I know you’re doing it.” He hesitated. “At least, I don’t think so. We could use a codeword, so I’ll know when you’re controlling me. Like … what were those called again?”
“Wire cutters?”
“Like wire cutters.”
“No.”
“Or something else.”
“I’m not practicing on you.” Slipping the cutters into her pocket, she finished splicing the rest of the wires and relieved Kai of his duty. “There, we’ll see how that goes.”
“Cinder, I have nothing better to do. Literally, nothing better to do. My time on this ship has taught me that I have zero practical skills. I can’t cook. I can’t fix anything. I can’t help Cress with surveillance. I know nothing about guns or fighting, or … Mostly, I’m just a really good talker, and it turns out that’s only useful in politics.”
“Let’s not overlook your ability to make every girl swoon with just a smile.”
It seemed to take Kai a moment to hear her over his own frustration, but then his expression cleared and he grinned.
“Yep,” she said, shutting the panel. “That’s the one.”
“I mean it, Cinder. I want to be useful. I want to help.”
Sighing, she turned back to face him. Frowned. Considered.
“Wire cutters,” she said.
He tensed, a quick trace of doubt clouding his gaze. But then he lifted his chin. Trusting.
With the slightest nudge at Kai’s will, she urged his arm to reach around her and pull the wrench from her back pocket. It was no more difficult than controlling her own cyborg limbs. A mere thought, and she could have him do anything.
Kai blinked at the tool. “That’s wasn’t so bad.”
“Oh, Kai.”
He glanced at her, then back to the wrench as his hand lifted the tool up to eye level, and his fingers, no longer under his control, began to twirl the wrench—over one finger, under the other. Slow at first, then faster, until the gleaming of the metal looked like a magic trick.
Kai gaped, awestruck, but there was an edge of discomfort to it. “I always wondered how you did that.”
“Kai.”
He looked back at her, the wrench still dancing over his knuckles.
She shrugged. “It’s too easy. I could do this while scaling a mountain, or … solving really complex mathematical problems.”
He narrowed his gaze, scrutinizing her, and she felt guilty for saying it. She was about to apologize when he said, “You have a calculator in your head.”