He glanced out the window. The streets were cast in shadow from the high-rise buildings in every direction. Storefronts sparkled with netscreen advertisements and pristine escort-droids modeling the latest fashions and gadgets. A block away he could see the edge of the market, all tight-squeezed booths and bustling crowds.
“Here is fine,” he said, reaching into the pack and pulling out the gray hooded sweatshirt he’d smuggled from the palace—the most discreet item of clothing he owned.
The hover swooped to the edge of the street. The magnets hummed as it lowered itself to the ground. “Shall I wait here for your return?”
“Please,” he said, threading his arms through the sleeves and tugging up the zipper. “I shouldn’t be long.”
He considered giving a specific time—If I’m not back in an hour, then I’ve probably been cornered by paparazzi and screaming girls and you should send the royal security squad after me. But even thinking it made him feel melodramatic, so he just pulled the hood over his brow and stepped out of the hover, dragging Nainsi’s pear-shaped body after him.
He hadn’t gone far when his senses were assaulted by the chaos of the market. The smell of lemongrass, ginger, and sizzling meat. The sounds of laughing children and roaring shopkeepers and chiming sales announcements. The sweltering heat that, even in the shade, soaked straight through his sweatshirt and wrapped him in a suffocating cocoon. He unzipped the sweatshirt slightly as he walked, but dared not take down the hood. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself.
And the problem with being the crown prince was that he always drew attention.
Crown prince, and soon-to-be emperor.
No, he couldn’t think of that now. It would cripple him. The thought of losing his father, and to the same devastating plague that had taken his mother years ago. The thought of ascending to the throne. The thought of all the people who would be relying on him to do the right thing, to make the best decisions. It was too much. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
He swallowed the rising bile in his throat. He had only one prerogative today: confirm that Linh Cinder was capable of fixing Nainsi.
Once Nainsi was repaired he could proceed with his search for the princess.
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.