There had been all the Earthens who weren’t against her. In fact, her critics were in the minority, at least according to Iko’s frequent updates and reminders. There were plenty of people who defended her against the outcry, reminding the world that she was the girl who had saved them from Levana and done nothing but show loyalty to Earth and display bravery worth commending.
And, of course, there was Kai. The way he had looked at her when she first stepped off the spaceship and onto the platform at New Beijing Palace had been encapsulated in her memory. She had long felt a homesickness for Earth. Despite how hard she’d fought to rescue the country she knew so little about, Luna had never felt like home, not even after two years of living here. She’d thought she was homesick for New Beijing, even though her life with Adri hadn’t felt like much of a home, either.
It wasn’t until that moment, seeing Kai’s smile and being wrapped up in his arms—both of them ignoring the fact that the world was watching—that she realized he was the home she’d been missing.
In the months since then, relations with Earth had grown stronger, and it seemed the Eastern Commonwealth citizens were gradually coming to terms with their emperor’s unusual romantic choice. Cinder’s abdication hadn’t hurt. From the moment she’d announced her plan to dissolve the Lunar monarchy and host elections for a democratic ruling system, the people of Earth had rejoiced. To them, it was the ultimate political statement. The promise that there would never again be a Queen Levana.
Lunars hadn’t been quite as enthusiastic about her choice, but once nominations ensued and election campaigns were under way, the mind-set of the country shifted. There was a potential to this system that hadn’t been there under royal rule: Every one would be represented, and any of their children could grow up to be a leader. It was a new way of thinking, especially for those in the outer sectors, and Cinder had been immensely relieved when her plan gained traction. When the ballots were released, almost every single citizen had cast a vote.
She had never been so proud of an accomplishment, not even the revolution that had ended Levana’s reign.
A knock thumped at her door and Iko entered, bouncing like a kangaroo. “They’re here! I just got the comm from port security—the Rampion has arrived!”
“Good,” said Cinder, with a firm nod at her suitcase. “I’m ready to go.”
Iko paused and took in the suitcase with a disbelieving frown. “Is that all you’re bringing?”
“That’s it. Why? How many suitcases are you bringing?”
“Three, and that was after I pared it down.” She placed a hand on Cinder’s arm. “Don’t worry. If you run out of clothes, I’ll lend you some of mine. Kinney?” Iko glanced back. “Would you be a dear and take Ambassador Linh-Blackburn’s luggage down to the docks?”
Cinder followed her look. Liam Kinney was hovering in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. Kinney had been one of the royal guards who had sided with Cinder during the revolution, and she’d come to consider him a friend since then. He was no longer a royal guard—there wasn’t any royalty to protect—but he had been keen to take the position of protecting the new Grand Minister and his parliament of elected representatives, and Cinder had been happy to recommend him.
“With pleasure,” Kinney deadpanned. “In fact, I was hoping that if I came to see you off, I would be asked to do manual labor.”
Iko shrugged. “If you don’t want to do any heavy lifting, then stop having such impressive muscles.”
Cinder stifled a laugh as Kinney stepped forward to haul the suitcase off her bed. Though he was pretending to scowl, she could detect redness around his ears. “At least yours is about half the weight of Iko’s,” he said, casting Cinder a grateful look.
“I had only your comfort in mind,” said Cinder. “Thanks, Kinney.”
He gave her a bow, a habit that had been impossible to break him of. “My shift starts in an hour, so I won’t be at the dock to say good-bye, but I wanted to wish you both safe travels.”
“Try to keep that new Grand Minister out of trouble while I’m gone.”
“I’ll do my best.” He headed back for the door, and a smile so quick and secretive passed between him and Iko that Cinder almost missed it. Iko didn’t take her gaze from him until he was gone.
“He could have come with us, you know,” said Cinder, glancing around the room one last time.
Iko shook her head. “He has a painfully strong work ethic. It’s one of his more annoying characteristics.”
Cinder chuckled. “Well, nobody’s perfect.”
“Speak for yourself.” Iko spun back to her and clapped her hands excitedly. “Are you ready? Can we go?”
Cinder sucked in another breath. “Yes, I think so.” She frowned. “You don’t think it’s a mistake to leave, do you?”
“Mistake?”
“It’s just … the new parliament only took office six weeks ago. What if something goes wrong? What if they need me?”
“Then they can send you a comm.” Iko settled her hands on Cinder’s shoulders. “You’re an ambassador to Earth now, Cinder. So it’s time you got yourself to Earth and started doing some ambassadorizing.”