Cinder’s fingers twitched, a familiar taste of rebellion. She ached to toss off her glamour, to yell and scream, to force Adri to see her, the real her, just once. Not the ungrateful, self-important little girl that Adri thought she was, but the orphan who had always just wanted a family, who had only wanted to belong somewhere.
But even as she thought this, a darker yearning climbed up her spine. She wanted Adri to be sorry. For how she had treated Cinder like a piece of property. For how she had taken Cinder’s prosthetic foot and forced her to hobble around like a broken doll. For how she had taunted Cinder again and again for her inability to cry, her inability to love, her inability to ever be human.
She found herself reaching out with her mind, detecting the waves of bioelectricity that shimmered off the surface of Adri’s skin. Before she could rein in the anger that roiled through her, Cinder pressed every ounce of guilt and remorse and shame into her stepmother’s thick skull—twisting her emotions so rashly that Adri gasped and stumbled, her side slamming into the wall.
“But didn’t you ever wonder how hard it must have been?” Cinder said through her teeth. A headache was coming on fast, throbbing against her dry eyes. “Didn’t you ever feel guilty over the way she was treated? Didn’t you ever think that maybe you could have loved her, if only you’d taken the time to talk to her, to understand her?”
Adri groaned and pressed one hand to her stomach, like the years of guilt had been eating away at her, slowly making her sick.
Cinder grimaced and began to ease up on the attack of emotions. When Adri met her gaze again, there were tears watering her eyes. Her breath was ragged.
“Sometimes…,” Adri said, her tone weak. “Sometimes I do think that maybe she was misunderstood. She was so young when we adopted her. She must have been afraid. And my darling Peony always seemed so fond of her and sometimes I think, if things had been different, with Garan, and our finances … perhaps she could have belonged here. You understand … if only she had been normal.”
The last word struck Cinder between her ribs and she flinched, releasing the small strands of guilt.
Adri shuddered, swiping her robe’s sleeve across her eyes.
It made no difference. Adri could be filled with all the guilt in the world, but in her own mind the blame would always be with Cinder. Because Cinder couldn’t have just been normal.
“I-I’m so sorry,” said Adri, pinching the bridge of her nose. She’d gone pale. The tears were gone. “I don’t know what came over me. I—ever since I lost my daughter, sometimes my mind just—” She turned her focus back up to Cinder. “Please, don’t misunderstand me. Linh Cinder—she’s a lying, manipulative girl. I hope they catch her. I would do anything to make sure she can’t ruin anyone else the way she ruined me and my family.”
Cinder nodded. “I understand, Linh-jiĕ,” she whispered. “I completely understand.”
Curling her fingers around the invitations she’d come for, Cinder ducked back out of the apartment. The headache was splitting against her skull now, making it hard to focus on anything other than putting each foot in front of the other. She managed to maintain a flimsy grip on the glamour, not sure if Adri was still watching her, until she’d stepped into the elevator at the end of the corridor.
She froze.
On the back wall of the elevator was a mirror.
She stared back at her own reflection as the doors slipped shut behind her. Her heart started to pound. Thankfully no one else was in the elevator to witness her, because she lost her hold on the glamour immediately, gaping into her own brown eyes and, for the first time, felt horrified of who she saw in that reflection.
Because what she’d done to Adri, twisting her emotions against her, forcing her to feel guilt and shame, for no other reason than Cinder’s own terrible curiosity, her own burning desire for retaliation …
It was something Levana would have done.
Forty-Five
Iko blew kisses and waved—a fluttery, five-fingered wave—as the podship coasted off the road and merged with the morning traffic. It was not a far walk to the warehouse, but she could feel her internal processor humming with excitement the whole way.
By her calculation, she would be arriving at the warehouse by 07:25. The delivery hover filled with the palace’s order of sixty escorts was set to depart from the warehouse at 07:32. Half of the escorts would be dropped off at the catering office by 07:58. The rest would be delivered to the florist at 08:43, to be taken to the palace along with the human staff.
Iko expected that she would be inside the palace by no later than 09:50.
The industrial district was mostly deserted. Much of the city, and perhaps the whole world, had taken this as a holiday in order to watch the royal wedding. No one was around to notice Iko as she strutted down the alley toward the warehouse or hopped blithely over the chain-link fence into the yard where five delivery ships were backed up to the warehouse loading docks.
She was dressed simply in black slacks and a white blouse. She was still a little disappointed that she couldn’t wear a fancy ball gown, but she felt stunning in her own way.
She couldn’t wait for Emperor Kai to see her. The thought put an extra bounce in her step as she rounded the front of the first ship and darted up the stairs into the loading dock.
The sight before her made her pause and almost crash face-first onto her perfectly shaped nose.
The warehouse was filled with escort-droids, mostly girls, of all different skin tones and hair colors. Most were unclothed, sitting on the ground with their arms wrapped compactly around their knees and their heads tucked down. There were well over two hundred androids lined up in neat rows. Some had packing tape and protective tissue wrapped around their limbs to protect them during shipping. Some had been loaded onto pallets and settled onto plastic crates. Packing foam and cardboard littered the floor around them.
On the wall to Iko’s left there were three stories of metal shelving filled with the packing crates, all labeled with the escort’s makes and models and special features.
“Is this all of them?” said a man.
Iko ducked behind the wall of the warehouse, before inching forward and peering around the doorjamb. She spotted sixty androids—forty-five female and fifteen male, all standing in neat rows. They were all dressed in identical black pants and blush-toned silk tops, simple mandarin-collared dress shirts for the men, and elegant wraps for the women that tied at the waists and draped kimono-style on their arms. Each girl had her hair pulled into a tight bun with an orchid tucked into the side.
“Checking off the order now,” said a woman, who was marching between the rows and making notations on a portscreen. “The order form specified a petite model of make 618, not the medium.”
“I know, but our last petite got shipped out last week. I cleared the change with the palace on Thursday.”
The woman tapped something into the port. “Fifty-nine … sixty. That’s all of them.”
“Great. Let’s load them up. Can’t let them be late for their royal mission.” The man pulled up the massive rolling door, opening the bay to one of the delivery ships, as the woman began making her way through the androids again, opening a panel in each of their necks. Their postures softened.
“Enter single file,” ordered the man. “Squeeze in tight. It’ll be a close fit.”
The androids marched one by one into the ship.
There was no way Iko could get all the way over there without being noticed, and her different clothes would make it clear that she didn’t belong.
The idea that they could mistake her for a rogue android and send her out for reprogramming made her wiring quiver.
Keeping low, she slinked along the wall, away from the two employees, and ducked beneath the first tower of industrial shelving. Hidden behind the crates, she made her way toward the rows of escort-droids that were waiting to be packaged up. Reaching the last row, she crouched down behind an android and felt for the latch on her neck. Iko glanced up to see that half of the rental escort-droids had already settled into the ship.
Humming to herself, she turned the android on. The processor whirred and her head raised. This one had white-blonde hair tipped with florescent green that hung to her waist. Iko brushed her hair off her shoulder and whispered, “I command you to stand up, scream, and run for the exit.”