In fact,” Cinder continued, “my understanding is that, under Kai—Emperor Kai—Kaito?” She raised her eyebrows at him, realizing this was the first time she’d ever been expected to be formal in his presence.

In response, Kai looked like he wanted to laugh. She glared at him.

What do you mean? Is she in a coma?”
“Not anymore.” She braced herself for his reaction.
“But she’s a cyborg.”
His eyes widened, but then his attention was darting around the room as though he couldn’t look at Cinder while he adjusted to that information. “I see,” he said slowly, before meeting her gaze again.
“But … is she all right?”
The question caught her by surprise and she couldn’t help a startled laugh. “Oh, yeah, she’s great. I mean, half the people in the world want to kill her and the other half want to chain her to a throne on the moon, which is just what she’s always wanted. So she’s fantastic.

Come on, Iko.”
Iko was still hiding, hugging herself self-consciously. “Is he looking?”
Kai raised an eyebrow.
“He’s not looking,” said Cinder.
A hesitation. “Are you sure?”
Cinder gestured exasperatedly at Kai. “You’re not looking.”
He cast his eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, for all the stars." Crossing his arms, he turned his back on them.

Did you know that she was cyborg?” asked a woman in an unhidden tone of disgust.
Kai stared at her, appearing confused, then let his gaze dance over the crowd. He shuffled his feet
closer to the podium, a wrinkle forming on the bridge of his nose.
Cinder bit the inside of her cheek and braced herself for adamant disgust. Who would ever invite a
cyborg to the ball?
But instead, Kai said simply, “I don’t see that her being cyborg is relevant. Next question?”
Cinder’s metal fingers jolted.

I don’t see that her being cyborg is relevant.

You could move to Europe."
"You know, I've actually been considering that lately."
Kai laughed again, the warmth returning to the sound. "If that's not a vote of confidence, I don't know what is.