Stars Above (The Lunar Chronicles)

“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.”

Cinder cocked her head to one side. “That’s not a word.”

“It should be. Besides, the Grand Minister has had more assistance and transition into his gig than you had when you took the throne. He’ll be fine.” She locked her elbow with Cinder’s and dragged her toward the door. “Now, come on. Paris awaits!”

“We’re not going to Paris.”

“It’s close enough for me.”

Cinder set aside her resistance as she and Iko made their way through the palace-turned-government-headquarters. The white marble. The towering glass windows. The sea of stars in the black sky beyond.

She couldn’t decide if she was sad or thrilled to be leaving. Iko kept up enough enthusiastic chatter that her worries began to calm, and she was right. Though Cinder had been heavily involved in the transition to the new governmental system—advising the elected leaders as much as she could once they’d taken office—her role was already becoming moot. It had been decided early on that she would continue to be involved in Lunar politics, but as an advisor and ambassador, like Winter. She was in a unique position to continue smoothing the relations between Earth and Luna, after all, and …

Kai.

She was desperate to see Kai again. To kiss him. To be in his arms. To laugh at his ironic jokes and watch his eyes crinkle when he laughed at hers.

It was easy for Cinder to justify the desperation because—unromantic as it may have been—she knew that together, she and Kai had the power to do more for the prejudices between their people than any amount of political discussions could hope to accomplish.