He let out a slow breath, and when he inhaled again, he let the aromas of street food and incense ground him back in the market. He dared to lift his head enough to get his bearings. Though his mother had brought him to the market sometimes when he was young, it had been years since he’d been there, and it took him a moment to pick out the faded booth numbers stenciled on canopies and metal frames. He turned to the right and weaved through the crowd, past barrels of rice and tables of mangoes, handwoven rugs, and bargain-price netscreens and portscreens—likely name-brand imitations.
Finally, he saw it. He knew it was the mechanic’s booth even before he checked for the stenciled number: 771. A labyrinth of storage shelves filled the space, cluttered with rusted android prongs, dented hover car panels, bins of bolts and screws, and a thousand different tools whose uses Kai couldn’t even fathom. A table sat across the booth’s entrance, draped in a grease-covered cloth and scattered with an assortment of wires and screwdrivers. A small metal foot, for an escort-droid, or maybe even a cyborg, sat amid the mess. It seemed so unexpected and random that Kai almost laughed.
His amusement was tempered by disappointment, though.
Despite the rolling door being wide-open, there was no one tending the booth.
Frowning, he dropped Nainsi onto the table with a loud thud.
He heard a gasp and another thunk, then a girl appeared from beneath the table, rubbing the top of her head. She looked up at Kai, her expression dark with annoyance.
Then she froze.
He could tell the precise moment when she recognized him.
His smile was instinctive. A little bit apology, a little bit politeness. And a little bit of charm because, of all the things he’d expected to come from his trip to the market, meeting a cute girl with messy hair and dirty work gloves had definitely not been one of them.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize anyone was back there.”
She gaped at him for another heartbeat, then two, then three, before launching herself to her feet and lowering her head in an awkward bow. “Your Highness.”
Grimacing, Kai glanced behind him at the milling crowd. No one else had recognized him yet. He hastily turned back and tilted toward the girl. “Maybe, um”—he drew his fingers across his lips—“on the Highness stuff?”
She nodded, but there was still that baffled expression on her face, and he wasn’t entirely sure she had grasped the importance of his remaining incognito.
“Right. Of course. How—can I—are you—” She paused, pressing her lips tight, and lowered her gaze to his chest. He could tell she was embarrassed by her own reaction, but she wasn’t blushing. At least, not yet.
“I’m looking for a Linh Cinder,” said Kai, still feeling bad for startling her. “Is he around?”
She fidgeted with the hem of her left glove. He thought she was going to take the gloves off—they must have been as hot and uncomfortable as his sweatshirt—but she didn’t. “I—I’m Linh Cinder.”
Kai’s eyebrows jumped in surprise. That couldn’t be right. Maybe he’d misheard. Maybe Linh Cinder was a family name, taken from her mechanical-minded uncle or some such.
This girl was maybe Kai’s age, but he guessed she was even younger.
He settled a hand on Nainsi’s head, shifting forward. “You’re Linh Cinder?”
“Yes, Your High—” She hesitated again, biting her lower lip to stifle the royal title. That small, embarrassed gesture was surprisingly charming.
“The mechanic?”
The girl—Cinder—nodded. “How can I help you?”
Kai stared at the top of her head.
Linh Cinder.
The renown. The reputation. The approval rating.
New Beijing’s best mechanic was … a teenager?
Kai was intrigued. He was amused, but more than that, he was impressed. After all, he still needed help installing the software every time he upgraded to a new port. Meanwhile, this girl ran her own mechanic business.
Kai had always been curious about people in general. Torin said it was one of the qualities that would someday make him a strong emperor. And now he was eager to know more. How did she get into this business? Where did she learn to do all this? How old was she?
But Linh Cinder, ignorant of his astonishment, was still staring at his chest. Still gnawing at her lower lip.
Kai leaned down, putting himself directly into her line of sight, and forced her to meet his eyes. Only when he was sure she would see it did he smile at her again. He meant it to be friendly, even comforting, but by the way her eyes widened he thought it might have served to startle her even more.
At least when he straightened again, her gaze stayed on him.
Her hair was pulled into a ponytail high on her head, with unkempt bangs feathered over her brow and ears. She looked like she hadn’t given a passing thought to her hair or clothes that day, maybe ever. She was pretty, but not exceptionally so. Not noticeably so, until you bothered to look.
Kai realized, with some surprise, that he was looking.
Which was how he noticed a splotch of grease on her brow, half covered beneath her bangs.
Another laugh caught in his lungs.
It was so endearing, and such a far cry from the perfectly coiffed and bejeweled girls who he normally met, that it made his fingers itch to reach across the table and rub it away.
He scolded his fingers. He scolded himself. He needed to pull himself together.