Cinder squeezed the suitcase shut with a sigh of finality. Iko had been pestering her all week about what she was and wasn’t going to pack, insisting on a variety of gowns and uncomfortable shoes and rolling her eyes at Cinder’s constant reminders that they would be spending most of this trip on a farm. With cows and chickens and mud.
“Just because you’re not a queen anymore,” Iko had said, her hands fisted on her hips, “doesn’t mean you get to go back to looking like you just rolled out of an engine compartment.”
Together they had finally agreed on a few pairs of comfortable pants and lightweight blouses, plus a simple emerald-green cocktail dress—“Just in case,” Iko had insisted.
Cinder stepped back and looked at the suitcase with some trepidation, trying to determine what she’d forgotten, but she knew the nerves writhing in her stomach had nothing to do with what she would wear or the possibility of leaving something behind—after all, they had shops on Earth.
No, she was nervous to be leaving.
For the first time since her official abdication, she was leaving Luna.
She had been back to Earth only once since she’d reclaimed her place upon the Lunar throne. She had kept to her promise and been Kai’s date to the Commonwealth’s ball last year, and it had been … terrifying. But also extraordinary. The people of Earth still weren’t sure what to do with the fact that one of their beloved leaders was not so secretly dating a Lunar, and a cyborg Lunar at that. There had been protests. There had been countless comedy skits taking jabs at a romance that most of the world deemed unconventional, even offensive. There had been jealous, hateful glares from the other guests, and live newsfeeds that criticized everything from Cinder’s gown to her posture to her sarcastic (i.e., tasteless) sense of humor.
She would have been humiliated, or possibly furious, if it hadn’t also been for the amazing things that had come from that trip.
Iko had been one of the stars of the ball—the first android to ever receive an official invitation.
Dozens of kids had asked Cinder to autograph their portscreens, calling her a role model and a hero.
There had been her elation at seeing her friends again.
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?”