27 DAYS. 19 HOURS. 14 MINUTES.
The following day, we were once again rifling through Dad’s paperwork when Jemeena piped up. “There’s a receipt here.” She waved a scrap of old paper crumbling at the edges. “It’s signed by someone called Green.” She wrinkles her nose in confusion at the name and looks at me expectantly. “Well, Miss I-Know-Everyone-Down-Here?”
Green’s a black-market dealer on floor zero and the second son of Minister Farro, but I wasn’t sure I should tell the princess of the city that. I grabbed the receipt out of her hands and looked it over, shocked Dad would deal with Green of all people. He hated people who did things unofficially, always complained that those kinds of people made it harder for everyone to get official work and to persuade the king to allocate us resources. I ran a stressed hand through the unkempt strands of hair nesting around my head.
“Do you know them, or . . . ?”
“Yes.” I looked at her face, then at the golden cloth covering her lifeclock, and sighed again. “Okay, I’ll take you to see Green, but on one condition.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t report anything you see. Green’s an important part of how floor zero works, and while it’s less than legal, it’s the only way some people feed themselves.” I did not hold Dad’s prejudice, especially after how hard I’d had to fight to remain on the legal side of this business.
“Deal. I promise to keep all floor zero secrets.” She placed a hand to her heart and looked to the ceiling. “Lunch, then we leave?”
Lunch? Right. “Er . . .”
“Or we can go tomorrow, if you have things to do.”
“Princess,” IoN said, his crackly voice echoing throughout the space, “we don’t have anything for lunch. Sorry. It has been a tough month.”
“Oh. That’s okay. I’ll take us up a few floors and treat you.”
She was . . . buying me food?
I shrugged. “Sure. I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“Don’t feel guilty. I have more money at my disposal than sense. I donate loads, but the crown’s funds are as endless as the city’s.”
Turning to IoN, I cringed. “Sorry, buddy, but I think it’ll be best if you stay here.”
He turned away from me but said, “It is okay.”
“Huh?” Jemeena asked.
“They asked for his paperwork last time when crossing security, and I don’t want to risk it. He’s the last family member I have left.”
“I can look after the garage while you are gone, El, so it’s in the best interests of everyone.” He floated into the kitchen at the back.
Leaving, Jemeena put her cloak back on as we left—a brown cotton one this time like most people wore down here in the colder months. She tugged the sleeve down her wrist, covering the golden cloth, and we took a slow walk to the lift. Where, lo and behold, she had paperwork to get me on any lift at any time.
“You have no idea how valuable that paperwork is. I wouldn’t go waving it about,” I mumbled as we stepped onto one of the normal lifts.
“How do you get to the upper floors without paperwork? I thought most citizens needed them?” she asked.
As the lift elevated us a few floors, I explained, “We don’t. Access to paperwork is controlled. We can only go higher by invitation, like to a pageant or ball or meeting with a noble.”
“You’re stuck here?” she asked incredulously. “Nobles can just buy it.”
“So can we. But that paperwork costs a year’s wage down here.”
“Oh, right.” She looked sheepishly at her feet as we arrived at floor fifteen. “Come on. The least I can do is take you to my favorite diner.”
“Right, but this time, we’re taking a hover.”
Her lips pursed, but she blew out a frustrated breath and gave in, stepping onto the marble floor and removing her cloak. Her shoulders rolled back as her face neutralized, transforming her into what I now realized was a princess persona—a face she used when dealing with the general public.
Was I not considered part of the general public? Or was she just comfortable enough to remove her mask? Maybe it was because she could. I couldn’t talk to anyone about what I was doing with her anyway.
Stepping onto the steel platform of the two-person hover, I grabbed the steering rod in front of me. This was a 2000X model, with better suspension between the thrusters and the platform so it rode smoother. It also used a different fan system from previous models that slowly let the airflow lessen, so braking was smoother and momentum could be increased and decreased at the rate the driver required, increasing control.
I flew us across the streets, following Jemeena’s directions, and marveled at the light shining from the sky and all the small gardens pocketed on street corners and outside cafés, each with varying statues and seating arrangements.
“Take the next left. It’s the hole-in-the-wall restaurant at the end.”
I took the turn, exiting the line of hovers I was in, and entered a near-deserted street with buildings towering on either side close enough that the light didn’t reach us. Parking in front of the restaurant she pointed to, I hopped off and steadied myself on solid ground. “That was fun. Thank you.”
She waved away my thanks and ducked into the small door in the corner that barely looked like a building, much less a restaurant. She held the door open, and I followed.
My eyes flew across the room, taking a cursory glance at the place the princess frequented. It didn’t look like much. More of an old corner food place you’d find on floor zero, if a little more modern and less run-down.
“I know it doesn’t look like much,” she whispered, “but the food here is amazing, and there’s no one around to recognize me.”
Ah. She could be herself here without worrying about keeping up the princess mask. Without having to wave away concern for her coughing, which she was doing the moment we sat down and caught our breaths.
“You okay?”
“Just ignore the coughing.” She looked at the menu with a familiar gaze, flying over the items available and no doubt knowing what each one was. “I recommend the eggs.”
I got eggs at home thanks to Mags though. “What’s a cooc-on-ut creepe?” I knew neither of those words.
“It’s like a thin pancake made from coconut flour. It’s sweet.”
Sweet sounded good. Sweet was expensive and therefore a luxury back home, so I rarely had it. “That sounds good.”
“You can order more than one thing. If you want to try a few different things.”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
The food arrived fifteen minutes later, and I had to force myself to eat slowly and not gorge myself, aware that it’d been a while since I’d eaten anything more than a single slice of bread in one go. I’d be sick if I weren’t careful.
The princess was also eating slowly, taking pauses to cough, struggling to eat without losing her breath. It was then, watching her do her best to live with what few days she had left, that I realized she was maybe pushing herself beyond what she should for the small hope that I might be able to cure her. That I could fix her.
But I couldn’t.
She had to know that, but she was clinging to the hope, the one-in-a-million chance, that Dad’s notes held any sort of answer, and that hope bubbling inside her, fueled by the desperation to live and the fear of death, was keeping her going, like the last ember of a fire.
If that fire was to roar again, I had to find more fuel to feed it, but I didn’t know if such a thing existed.
Back on floor zero, back to the sunless streets and the mossy walls, Green was on the other side of the city and there was no way Jemeena could walk that far. I’d need to borrow Phyllis’s or the girls’ hover. I didn’t want to take Old Mags’s steamer.
Ugh. This was going to be a not-so-fun morning after all.
Back in the garage, IoN greeted us with cups of steaming toffee and mint-leaf tea. “Welcome back. How was breakfast?”
“I tried coconut crepes, and they were amazing, IoN!”
“I am glad you had a good time.”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t join us.” I looked at the floor, shame covering my features in a heated blush. “You deserve to see the upper floors too.”
“I am just a steambot,” he repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. “I have no need to see or experience things.”
Jemeena looked at me, then at IoN, and placed her cup back on the table. “Look, I know I’m new to you, IoN, but it seems you’re more than just a bot, and if that is the case, then you have every right to a life. You wouldn’t expect us to live without experiencing things, would you? What makes it so different for you?”
IoN looked at her in silence, having no rebuttal, let alone an explanation, and then proceeded to my desk and picked up the tattered notebook and pen I used to log jobs. He handed them to me—he didn’t have the hands to write. “Telith wanted you to look at his wife’s pressure cooker.”
“Really?” I had a new customer.
“By the end of the day, if possible.”
“Sure. Can do.” I placed his job in today’s space with relief. “A new customer is always good news.” Suddenly I’d gone from so barren I was bored to not enough hours in the day to get it all done. Looking at Jemeena, I explained, “I’ll do it at the end of the day.”
“Are you sure? I know you need the mo?—”
I waved her question away. “You’re more important. Besides, a fast track on an engineering program is greater than any amount of money.”
“Right.” She looked away, noticed my dad’s pile of old paperwork, and started digging through, going over what IoN did yesterday.
“I’ll be back in a minute. Just stay here.”
Head stuck in the papers, she nodded slowly, her hair in black plaits spun into buns on her head today.
I ran out of the garage and took a breath, steeling myself for what I assumed would be a frustrating conversation with Phyllis. Our small apartment was three right turns and a left away, behind the brown wooden door with the broken knocker that looked like a desert deer I begged Mum to buy when I was four.
Luckily, Phyllis was not attending the pageant on floor three as she had a hair appointment with our neighbor at four, which meant she was still sitting in the living room, reading a daily paper when I walked through the door.
Her beady eyes peeked over the top of the page, surprised to see me. Feet in a bowl of warm water, she placed the newspaper on the arm of the sofa and looked at me with tired eyes. “What is it, Cinderella?”
“I need to borrow one of the hovers for the afternoon.” She went to immediately say no, but I interrupted. “I’ll bring it right back. It’s for my work with the princess.”
She groaned, her voice as crackly as IoN’s for a moment before she cleared her throat and smirked. “If you clean the stove tonight, I’ll let you borrow the girls’ hover.”
“Thank you!”
She threw the key she’d dug out of her pocket at me. “Don’t let it run out of water, or I’ll have plenty more things for you to clean this evening than just the stove.”
“Yes, Phyl—Mother.”
I ran out the door and yanked the crank around twice to open the apartment’s garage door, listening to it whine and creak with a wince. The shelves at the back were filled to the brim with Dad’s old stuff in boxes, overflowing crates, and split packages that I’d shoved there for fear of Phyllis throwing them out to “make space.” It’s a two-bedroom apartment on floor zero, we didn’t have space to make.
But in the center of the crowded garage were two hovers—one for my stepsisters and one for Phyllis. They’d cost a pretty penny that Phyllis had taken right from Dad’s death fund, of course, but they came in handy from time to time. When they let me use them. I hopped up onto the one with more wear and tear in the handles and shoved the key into the hole, starting her up.
She glided a few inches over the concrete floor, disturbing various patches of moss and dirt, and handled the corners with some level of ease. Not quite as well as the one on floor fifteen, but still easier than walking the two miles to Green’s with a wheezy princess.
Back at the garage, IoN displayed surprise, and the princess looked at me gratefully, which I took for the thank you it was. “Phyllis let you borrow that?” IoN asked.
“When I told her it was for the project with the princess”—I curtsied toward Jemeena—“she let me have it, no questions asked. Are you ready, Your Highness?”
She dusted herself off, threw her shoulders back, and practically floated to the hover, a bemused smirk on her face. “Thank you, kind citizen.”
We both chuckled, hers turning into a cough halfway through, so I had to find a clean handkerchief I could give a royal. I ended up grabbing a clean cloth I used for dusting IoN after cleaning him. Oops.
“I will hold down the fort and keep reading through these notes,” IoN said from his place on the floor. “Be careful.”
“Will do!” I called as I whizzed us out the door and down the myriad of streets it took to get to Green’s unit. We passed the church, the kids’ playground that used to be a field we grew fruits and vegetables in, and so many houses that used to home friends and neighbors who had since passed that, for a moment, I forgot how to breathe as Jemeena asked millions of questions about almost every building.
We eventually got there, both of us intact and the hover not even half empty of the full tank of water it had when we left.
I scowled at Jemeena as she flopped her cloak’s hood down, then I yanked it back up. “Not here. Here you’re just an old family friend visiting from floor two.”
“Okay.” Her guard flew up instantly, her hands tugging her sleeves down to make sure her golden cloth was covered. “What is it Green does, exactly?”
“He’s a black-market dealer.”
The inside of the grubby warehouse on the east side of the city was much like my garage: Dusty, full of bits and bobs scattered across the space, and smelled as one might expect from a black-market dealer who barely saw the light of day. But the moment I stepped in, a light turned on overhead, illuminating the space. Hovers, steamers, and different trinkets covered the floor, all in various states of repair—far more than I’d worked on in my entire engineering life.
“Nice to know where all Dad’s customers went,” I mumbled to myself.
“Indeed, Cinderella,” a familiar voice echoed from a workstation above us in the corner. “What brings you here?”
“I have a question to ask. Privately.”
“If this is a marriage proposal, I’m afraid you’re too late. Pinkett’s daughter already beat you to it.”
“I’m not here to . . . Really? You and little Pinkett?”
Without answering, he sidled down the ladder and grinned, extending his hand to me, then to Jemeena. “And who do we have here?” He looked at Jemeena suspiciously, wary of strangers.
“Just an old family friend,” Jemeena said from beneath her hood. “Visiting from the floor above.” She even managed to remove the proper sound of her voice and make it a bit more casual, but it wasn’t brilliant.
“A friend of Cinderella’s is a friend of mine.” He grinned at her, and she smiled back. “What sorta question you got for me?” His green hair, for which he was named, was slicked back behind his pierced ears, and the brown corset he wore sat under the bust over a black shirt whose sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. “I’m a bit busy.”
“Yes, I can see,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Come on, Cin... You can’t still be mad about all this, can ya?” He gestured to the booming business behind him—to the workers he’d hired, to the multiple jobs he had going on—and smirked. He knew damn well I was mad, but he shrugged with a simple, “Business is business.”
Sure, if business was throwing your old acquaintances under the nearest hover. For the love of Seren, this guy made my blood boil.
“I need to know what my dad bought from you.”
His eyes widened a fraction as his fists clenched. He grabbed our wrists and yanked us behind a door that seemed to lead to a storage room. “You can’t just ask questions like that in public. Someone might overhear.”
“Why not?” I pressed. “What did he buy that was so threatening?”
Green looked from left to right, then back to left, and finally settled on us with a frown. “He bought a lifeclock.”
Jemeena and I gasped, but it was me who asked, “But that’s...very illegal.” Punishable by desertion in the desert. “Why did he need it?”
Green shrugged. “He never said. And even if he did, I wouldn’t tell you.” Placing a heavy hand on my shoulder, he looked me in the eyes. “Whatever follow-in-your-daddy’s-footsteps bullshit you’ve got going on, stop it. It’s dangerous. If you need the ego or the money that badly, I can pass a few customers your way.”
I yanked my shoulder from beneath his hand. “I don’t need your charity.” Grabbing Jemeena’s wrist, I stormed outside, hopped back onto the hover, and sped us home before my mind could catch up with the information.