Cinder (The Lunar Chronicles #1) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,43
to the palace, Cinder found herself plastered to the hover’s window as she was taken up the steep winding road to the top of the harsh cliffs that bordered the city. Her netlink fished for information, telling her that the palace had been built after World War IV, when the city was little more than rubble. It was designed in the fashion of the old world, with hearty dosages of both nostalgic symbolism and state-of-the-art engineering. The pagoda-style roofs were made of gold-tinged tiles and surrounded by qilin gargoyles, but the tiles were actually galvanized steel covered with tiny solar capsules that created enough energy to sustain the entire palace, including the research wing, and the gargoyles were equipped with motion sensors, ID scanners, 360-degree cameras, and radars that could detect approaching aircrafts and hovers within a sixty-mile radius. All that was invisible, though, the technology hidden in the ornately carved beams and tiered pavilions.
What captured Cinder’s eye was not modern technology but a cobblestoned road lined with cherry blossom trees. Bamboo screens framing the garden entrances. Through a peep window, a steadily trickling stream.
The hover did not stop at the main entrance with its crimson pergolas. Instead, it rounded to the northern side of the palace, nearest the research wing. Though this part of the palace was more modern, less nostalgic, Cinder still noticed a squat Buddha sculpture with a cheery face off the pathway. As she paid for the hover and walked toward the automatic glass door, a subtle pulse tugged at her ankle—Buddha scanning visitors for weapons. To her relief, the steel in her leg did not set off any alarms.
Inside, she was greeted by an android who asked for her name and told her to wait in the elevator bank. The research center was a hive of activity—diplomats and doctors, ambassadors and androids, all roaming the halls on their separate missions.
An elevator opened and Cinder stepped into it, glad to be alone. The doors began to close, but then paused and opened again. “Please hold,” said the mechanical voice of the elevator operator.
A moment later, Prince Kai darted through the half-open doors. “Sorry, sorry, thanks for hold—”
He saw her and froze. “Linh-mèi?”
Cinder pushed herself off the elevator wall and fell into the most natural bow she could, simultaneously checking that her left glove was pulled up over her wrist. “Your Highness.” The words were a rush, spit out automatically, and she felt the need to say something more, to fill the space of the elevator, but nothing came.
The doors closed; the box began to rise.
She cleared her throat. “You should, um, just call me Cinder. You don’t have to be so—” Diplomatic.
The corner of the prince’s lip quirked, but the almost smile didn’t reach his eyes. “All right. Cinder. Are you following me?”
She frowned, hackles rising before she realized he was teasing her. “I’m just going to check on the med-droid. That I looked at yesterday. To ensure it doesn’t have any remaining bugs or anything.”
He nodded, but Cinder detected a shadow lingering behind his eyes, a new stiffness to his shoulders. “I was on my way to talk to Dr. Erland about his progress. I heard through the grapevine that he may have made progress with one of the recent draft subjects. I don’t suppose he said anything to you?”
Cinder fidgeted with her belt loops. “No, he didn’t mention anything. But I’m just the mechanic.”
The elevator came to a stop. Kai gestured for her to exit first and then joined her as they made their way to the laboratories. She watched the white floor pass beneath her feet.
“Your Highness?” interrupted a youngish woman with black hair that hung in a tight braid. Her gaze was fixed on Prince Kai, all sympathy. “I am so sorry.”
Cinder’s gaze shifted to Kai, who tipped his head at the woman. “Thank you, Fateen.” And kept walking.
Cinder frowned.
Not a dozen steps later, they were halted again by a man carrying a handful of clear vials in his fists. “My condolences, Your Highness.”
Cinder shivered as her feet came to a pause beneath her.
Kai stopped and peered back at her. “You haven’t seen the net this morning.”
A heartbeat later, Cinder was accessing her netlink, pages flashing across her eyesight. The EC news page, a half-dozen pictures of Emperor Rikan, two pictures of Kai—the prince regent.
She clapped a hand to her mouth.
Kai seemed surprised, but the look quickly faded. He ducked his head, his black bangs falling into his eyes. “Good guess.”