They said she knew when people were talking about her even thousands of miles away. Even down on Earth.
They said she’d murdered her older sister, Queen Channary, so she could take the throne from her. They said she’d had her own husband killed too so she would be free to make a more advantageous match. They said she had forced her stepdaughter to mutilate her own face because, at the sweet age of thirteen, she had become more beautiful than the jealous queen could stand.
They said she’d killed her niece, her only threat to the throne. Princess Selene had only been three years old when a fire caught in her nursery, killing her and her nanny.
Some conspiracy theorists thought the princess had survived and was still alive somewhere, waiting for the right time to reclaim her crown and end Levana’s rule of tyranny, but Cinder knew it was only desperation that fueled these rumors. After all, they’d found traces of the child’s flesh in the ashes.
“Here.” Iko raised her hand and knocked on a slab of metal jutting from a huge mound of junk, startling Cinder.
She shoved the thoughts aside. Prince Kai would never marry that witch. He could never marry a Lunar.
Cinder pushed a few rusted aerosol cans and an old mattress aside before she was able to clearly make out the hover’s nose. “Good eye.”
Together they shuffled enough junk out of the way so that the full front of the vehicle could be seen. “I’ve never seen one like this,” Cinder said, running a hand over the pitted chrome insignia.
“It’s hideous,” said Peony with a sneer. “What an awful color.”
“It must be really old.” Cinder found the latch and pulled open the hood. She drew back, blinking at the mess of metal and plastic that greeted her. “Really old.” She squinted into the front corner of the engine, but the undercarriage hid the magbelt clamps from view. “Huh. Point the light over there, would you?”
Cinder lowered herself to the dirt. She tightened her ponytail before squirming under the hover, shoving aside the jumble of old parts that had been left to rust in the weeds beneath it.
“Stars,” she muttered when she was able to look up into its belly. Iko’s light filtered down from above, through cables and wires, ducts and manifolds, nuts and bolts. “This thing is ancient.”
“It is in a junkyard,” said Peony.
“I’m serious. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Cinder ran a hand along a rubber cable.
The light flashed back and forth as Iko’s sensor scanned the engine from above. “Any useful parts?”
“Good question.” Cinder’s vision tinted blue as she connected to her netlink. “Could you read me the VIN by the windshield?” She searched the number as Peony read it to her and had the hover’s blueprint downloaded in minutes, the display creating an overlaid image on top of the engine above her. “Seems to be fairly intact,” she murmured, running her fingertips along a cluster of wires over her head. She followed them with her eyes, tilting her head to trace the path from hoses to pulleys to axles, trying to decipher how it all fit together. How it all worked.
“This is so cool.”
“I’m bored,” said Peony.
Sighing, Cinder searched for the magbelt on the blueprint, but a green error message flashed in her vision. She tried just magnet, and then just belt, finally receiving a hit. The blueprint lit up a rubber band wrapped around a series of gears, encapsulated by a metal cover—something called a timing belt. Frowning, Cinder reached up and felt for the bolts and lock washers that attached the cover to the engine block.
She thought timing belts hadn’t been used since internal combustion had become obsolete.
Gasping, she craned her neck to the side. In the deep shadows beneath the vehicle, she could make out something round beside her, connected to the bars overhead. A wheel.
“It’s not a hover. It’s a car. A gasoline car.”
“Seriously?” said Peony. “I thought real cars were supposed to be…I don’t know. Classy.”
Indignation flared in Cinder’s chest. “It has character,” she said, feeling for the tire’s treads.
“So,” said Iko a second later, “does this mean we can’t use any of its parts?”
Ignoring her, Cinder hungrily scanned the blueprint before her. Oil pan, fuel injectors, exhaust pipes. “It’s from the second era.”
“Fascinating. Not,” said Peony. She suddenly screeched, launching herself back from the car.
Cinder started so fast she whapped her head on the front suspension. “Peony, what?”
“A rat just came out of the window! A big hairy fat one. Oh, gross.”
Groaning, Cinder settled her head back into the dirt, massaging her forehead. That made two head injuries in one day. At that rate, she was going to have to buy a new control panel too. “It must have been nesting in the upholstery. We probably scared it.”