by M.C. O'Neill
***
As always, Venn’lith found her father in one of their spacious lounge rooms prattling away on his phone. It more than likely had something or other to do with the stock market, although she could have cared less. She waited with patience for him to cease his frantic badgering over whatever nameless commodity he was rambling about and then she could strike for his attention.
After some time, the financial mogul turned his ears toward his daughter. “Hello Venn’lith,” he intoned without looking at her. His eyes were still studying the finance scrolls running across one of the lounge’s wallscreens.
Already, his ignorance of her amazing new hair flustered her, but she would wait with bated breath for him to notice Djaenn’s wonderful work. At the end of the day, she knew that she had her father in the palm of her finest of manicured hands.
“That is perfect for tonight!” Lord Mitlan exclaimed after some time. “Djaenn always does such an amazing job. I can truly say that your beauty preempts even that of High President Glasya.” His daughter could tell by his dramatic pause that he was indeed taken aback by her presence.
“Aren’t I always perfect, Papi?” Venn’lith half-joked.
“Yes, of course, what I mean is for tonight’s festivity,” he remarked with all seriousness. “This address is extremely important as it marks a compact with our kingdom and another world. All over the globe the kings and queens of the nations are meeting with these, these ‘celestials’ for our relocation plans. As a matter-of-fact, I was just on the phone with one of them.”
“Seriously?” she was, in all honesty, intrigued. “Which one?”
“His name is Stolas. He is an Aldebaran prince, so you would address him as ‘Prince Stolas’ or ‘Your Highness.’” For an instant, Mitlan checked the screen of his glowing phone. “He will be arriving shortly to our home as we will personally chaperone him tonight to the address, so please, mind your temper.”
“Of course, Papi,” Venn’lith rolled her eyes at his suggestion of another one of her outbursts.
“Not only will we chaperone this great prince, but I have arranged a companion for you tonight.” Mitlan turned away for a moment from his daughter’s dark glare as he knew it was possible that such an impromptu arrangement could flare a tantrum out of the maiden.
“What? I am to go on a date? Tonight?” Centeo could already hear his daughter’s teeth grind from the frustration of the event’s immediacy. “No! Who is this guy?”
“He is one of theirs,” Lord Mitlan said with blunt authority, “An Aldebaran.” He hoped that he would not have to defuse a scene with the maiden, but she was well known for her will.
“Father!” her eyes lit up like a manaspring. “You have set me up on a date with an alien? That’s disgusting!”
“It has all been arranged, Mija,” he waved his hand as if to declare the final word. “It is only for tonight, and I expect you to be on your most ladylike behavior. Do not let me catch you in any of your devious schemes with this lad. Our world is already embroiled in an interplanetary incident and I don’t need you to spark off another one. These people are Earth’s last shot, ergo, the date is final.”
“Wonderful,” Venn’lith shot boiled sarcasm at her father. “Perhaps when we go to our next gala, you can set me up with a wild sabercat! You do realize this is being broadcast on the screen? I’ll be the laughingstock of Atlantis! This is even worse than what Quen’die and those Gonduanna Princes did to me!”
“And, as you remember, I took care of all of that. Quite the contrary,” the elder raised a suggestive brow. “Your escort tonight is quite the handsome one I am told. His name is Cadreth and he is Prince Stolas’ personal vizier. Why, the lad is even about your age, I believe.”
“Why me?” the maiden threw out her arms in confusion. “Why can I not be accompanied by an elven royal tonight? Or even just go alone?”
“Lith, this is a very important merger between our peoples,” Mitlan was already growing weary of her presence, but it was imperative that she behave tonight. “Just swallow your pride and flash your most professional of smiles when the mirrors hit you for a close-up. And they surely will!”
“I hate this,” she beamed her father a murderous stare. He was used to such glares from her over the years, and he knew well that they signified a bout of spoiled fits that could sometimes last for hours.
“Oh, but you won’t, my Mija,” he braced himself to drop even more terrible news to her perfectly-pointed ears. He hoped the expected tantrum wouldn’t include her breaking something. They were in his favorite lounge and the last thing he wanted was for her to smash the priceless, crystal egg ensconced on the lounge’s mantle. “This Cadreth is to be your tutor to Aldebaran culture. Included in this merger, will be a glorious new job for you.”
“A job!” she screamed upon reflex. Demons of woe crawled from her heart and up her nerve stem as she couldn’t contain her rage. Her thick chest was huffing in an effort to secure the maelstrom of anger for which she was famous and her father had to think quicker than ever in order to prevent it. “I am not working!”
“Calm down, Mija,” the giant Xochian backed away from his little poppet of anger. “It isn’t mopping a floor or anything like that. As you probably know, my channels have been in contact with our new guests for quite some time now, and they have been observing our whole family. This entourage tonight is not merely to talk shop with the Aldebarans, but to prime you for your rather lofty position.”
“And what lofty position is this, Papi?” she emitted a slow growl through squeaking clenched teeth.
Lord Mitlan was well-versed in political speaking from his years of financial haggling and his style of communication did not encompass debate. Unlike most of the ranks of dull elfling-kissers, Mitlan ordered, and never negotiated. “As you know, this world is no longer our home. It will be gone to us and there is nothing I can do about it. There are many preparations to make and we have a very short time to make those preparations. Atlantis hosts millions of elves and their children. The Aldebarans have chosen you out of those millions of young ladies for the office of the Prime Warden of the Atlantean Youth Parliament. We must work quickly, as you will be appointed to this position starting tomorrow.”
Venn’lith liked the sound of her title, but not the name of the office. The young Xochian could see with ease through the euphemisms and pomp of any “hot job” and knew underneath it all, a job was a job and she was much too beautiful to work. “You mean you want me to be a babysitter! How dare you, Papi!” Her palm was positioned to slap her father across his brawny face in defiance, but the burning coals of anger mutated into welling sobs of humiliation. The ramifications of this interplanetary exodus were at last beginning to hit her soul and she knew from that moment on, her life would never be the same.
“My sweet Mija! No!” he rushed to soothe her as was his duty since the day her mother died. Whenever her tears were involved, he could not bear audience to them. “You will be a leader! This is great power and responsibility! Look, this is just a preamble to much greater things for you when we reach our new home. If I can give you a hint, I have even been discussing with the Aldebarans about calling the planet ‘Mitlan.’”
Her tears were arrested by the shock of the innuendo. It all made lightning sense to her golden ego at that moment. Today a Prime Warden, tomorrow a queen. She was thankful that she had not yet applied her makeup as her budding tears would have wrecked her face which was forming a slow, proud grin. “Very well, Father, but I get to design their uniforms. And I’m not wearing one!”
“Certainly, Lith,” his smile matched hers. “Now that this is settled, we really need to finish taking care of business before our colleagues arrive. Please try to rush the process as we cannot be too fashionably late.”
In her personal quarters, Ping fitted the Xochian into her nearly-translucent gown with utmost care. Woven with expert craftsmanship throughout the crimson, wafer-thin silk were jewels of sapphire and amber w
hich were concentrated in strategic clusters for modesty. Venn’lith was still chewing on her future position as the High Queen of Mitlan. To be honest, she liked the title “Empress Venn’lith” better, but it made her sound so old. Nevertheless, being in lifted spirits, the maiden felt no normal compulsions to abuse her sea elf steward.
“Oh, Ping, do the sapphires and the red fabric make me look too purple?” Venn’lith was trying to gauge whether the dress would make her appear like a fool. In the back of her mind, she was feeling the urge to impress this coterie of aliens. Perhaps this Cadreth would even one day be her king. That was fine, as long as she had made sure to make all the decisions. The last thing she needed was a mate like her father who was rather brusque with everybody.
“You look wonderful, Maiden Venn’lith,” she answered, as was her duty. Ping had to admit, she did look quite the sight and her canned answer held much truth to it.
“Excellent,” the sun elf confirmed. “I will need you to apply my face tonight as this is not a mere soiree. I have already had Djaenn do my nails and I cannot sully them with goop. Do your best, for I am forced to be escorted by one of those stupid aliens.”
