“All right, here’s a question. What’s with Lunars and mirrors? I always thought it was just a myth that they’re afraid of them, but…is it true?”
The doctor’s eyebrows knit together. “It has some element of truth. You understand how Lunars make use of their glamours?”
“Not really.”
“Ah. I see,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “Well…the Lunar gift is nothing more than the ability to manipulate bioelectric energy—the energy that is naturally created by all living things. For example, it is the same energy that sharks use to detect their prey.”
“Sounds like something Lunars would do.”
The lines around the doctor’s mouth crinkled. “Lunars have the unique ability to not only detect bioelectricity in others, but to also control it. They can manipulate it so that people see what the Lunar wishes them to see, and even feel what the Lunar wishes them to feel. A glamour is what they call the illusion of themselves that they project into the minds of others.”
“Like making people think you’re more beautiful than you really are?”
“Precisely. Or…” He gestured at Cinder’s hands. “Making a person see skin where there is really metal.”
Cinder self-consciously rubbed her cyborg hand through the glove.
“It is why Queen Levana is so striking to look at. Some talented Lunars, such as the queen, keep their glamour up all the time. But just as she cannot trick the netscreens, neither can she trick a mirror.”
“So they don’t like mirrors because they don’t want to see themselves?”
“Vanity is a factor, but it is more a question of control. It is easier to trick others into perceiving you as beautiful if you can convince yourself you are beautiful. But mirrors have an uncanny way of telling the truth.” Dr. Erland peered at her, as if amused. “And now a question for you, Miss Linh. Why the sudden interest in Lunars?”
Cinder lowered her gaze to her hands and realized she was still carrying the stylus stolen off his desk. “Something Kai said.”
“His Highness?”
She nodded. “He told me Queen Levana is coming to New Beijing.”
The doctor drew back. He gaped at her, bushy eyebrows nearly touching the brim of his hat, then stepped back against the cabinets. For the first time that day, his focus was entirely on her. “When?”
“She’s supposed to arrive today.”
“Today?”
She jumped. She could not have imagined Dr. Erland raising his voice before. He spun away from her, scratching his hat, pondering.
“Are you all right?”
He waved away the question. “I suppose she would have been waiting for this.” He pulled off his hat, revealing a bald spot surrounded by thin, messy hair. He shuffled his hand through it a few times, glaring at the floor. “She is hoping to prey on Kai. His youth, his inexperience.” He blew out a furious breath and replaced the hat.
Cinder splayed her fingers out on her knees. “What do you mean, prey on him?”
He turned back to her. His face was pulled taut, his eyes turbulent. The stare he pinned on Cinder made her shrink away.
“You should not be worried about the prince, Miss Linh.”
“I shouldn’t?”
“She is coming today? That is what he told you?”
She nodded.
“Then you must leave. Quickly. You can’t be here when she arrives.”
He shooed her off the table. Cinder hopped down, but made no move toward the door. “What does this have to do with me?”
“We have your blood samples, your DNA. We can do without you for now. Just stay away from the palace until she’s gone, do you understand?”
Cinder planted her feet. “No, I don’t.”
The doctor looked from her to the netscreen still showing her stats. He appeared confused. Old. Frazzled. “Screen, display current newsfeed.”
Cinder’s stats vanished, replaced by a news anchor. The headline above him announced the emperor’s death. “…Highness is preparing to make a speech in just a few minutes on the death of His Imperial Majesty and the upcoming coronation. We will be broadcasting live—”
“Mute.”
Cinder folded her arms. “Doctor?”
He turned pleading eyes to Cinder. “Miss Linh, you must listen very carefully.”
“I’ll turn my audio interface volume to max.” She leaned back against the cabinets, disappointed when Dr. Erland didn’t so much as blink at her sarcasm.
Instead he blew out a disgruntled sigh. “I am not sure how to say this. I thought I would have more time.” He rubbed his hands together. Paced back toward the door. Squared his shoulder and faced Cinder again. “You were eleven when you had your operation, correct?”
The question was not what she’d been expecting. “Yes…”
“And before that, you don’t remember anything?”
“Nothing. What does this have to do with—”
“But your adoptive parents? Surely they must have told you something about your childhood? Your background?”
Her right palm began to sweat. “My stepfather died not long after the accident, and Adri doesn’t like to talk about it, if she even knows anything. Adopting me wasn’t exactly her idea.”