“I was just kidding,” she said. “Engine rooms are supposed to be dirty.” She examined the filter again and, deeming it satisfactory, twisted it back into the cylinder and bolted it all in place. The almost imperceptible humming started up again, but the pebble clatter was gone.
Cinder squirmed feet-first out from beneath the module and ductwork. Still crouching, Kai peered down at her and smirked. “Iko’s right. You really can’t stay clean for more than five minutes.”
“It’s part of the job description.” She sat up, sending a waterfall of lint off her shoulders.
Kai brushed some of the larger chunks from her hair. “Where did you learn to do all this, anyway?”
“What, that? Anyone can clean an oxygen filter.”
“Trust me, they can’t.” He settled his elbows on his knees and let his attention wander around the engine room. “You really know what all this does?”
She followed the look—every wire, every spring, every manifold, every computer panel, every compression coil—and shrugged. “Pretty much. Except for that big, rotating thing in the corner. Can’t figure that one out. But how important could it be?”
Kai rolled his eyes.
Grasping a pipe, Cinder hauled herself to her feet and shoved the wrench back into her pocket. “I didn’t learn it anywhere. I just look at things and figure out how they work. Once you know how something works, you can figure out how to fix it.”
She ducked her head and tried to shake out the last bits of dust, but there seemed to be an endless supply.
“Oh, you just look at something and figure out how it works,” Kai deadpanned, standing beside her. “Is that all?”
Cinder fixed her ponytail and shrugged, suddenly embarrassed at his questions. “It’s just mechanics.”
Kai scooped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. “No, it’s impressive,” he said, using the pad of his thumb to brush something off Cinder’s cheek—dust or grease or who knew what else. “Not to mention, weirdly attractive,” he said, before capturing her lips.
Cinder tensed, briefly, before letting herself melt into the kiss. The rush was the same every time, coupled with surprise and a rush of giddiness. It was their seventeenth kiss (her brain interface was keeping a tally, somewhat against her will), and she wondered if she would ever get used to this feeling. Being desired. Being wanted, when she’d spent her life believing that no one would ever see her as anything but a bizarre science experiment.
Especially not a boy.
Especially not Kai, who was smart and honorable and kind, and could have had any girl he wanted. Any girl.
She sighed contentedly against him, leaning into the embrace. Kai reached for an overhead pipe and pressed Cinder back against the main computer console. She offered no resistance. Though her body wouldn’t allow her to blush, there was an unfamiliar heat that flooded every inch of her body when he was this close. Every nerve ending sparked and thrummed, and she knew he could kiss her another seventeen thousand times and she would never grow tired of it.
She tied her arms around his neck and he responded by tightening his arm around her waist, molding their bodies together. The warmth of his chest seeped into her clothes. It felt nothing but right. Nothing but perfect.
But then there was the feeling, always lurking, always ready to cloud her contentment. The knowledge that this couldn’t last.
Not so long as Kai was engaged to Levana.
Angry at the thought’s invasion, she kissed Kai harder.
Her thoughts continued to rebel. Even if they succeeded and Cinder was able to reclaim her throne from her aunt, she would be expected to stay on Luna as their new queen. Not that she was an expert, but it seemed like it would be problematic to carry on this relationship on two different planets—
Er, a planet and a moon.
Or whatever.
The point was, there would be 384,000 kilometers of space between them, and that was a lot of space and—
Kai smiled, effectively breaking the kiss. “What’s wrong?” he murmured against her mouth.
Flinching, Cinder leaned back to look at him. His hair was getting longer, bordering on unkempt. As a prince, he’d always been groomed to near-perfection. But then he’d become an emperor. The weeks since his coronation had been spent trying to stop a war, hunt down a wanted fugitive, avoid getting married, and endure his own kidnapping. As a result, regular haircuts had become a dispensable luxury.
She hesitated before asking, “Do you ever think about the future?”
His expression turned wary. “Of course I do.”
“And … does it include me?”
His gaze softened in a way that made her pulse skip. Releasing the overhead pipe, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That depends on whether I’m thinking about the good future or the bad one.”
Cinder shut her eyes and tucked her head under his chin. “As long as one of them does.”
“This is going to work,” Kai said, speaking into her hair. “We’re going to win.”
She nodded, glad he couldn’t see her face.