by Zara Zenia
“Whatever you need help with,” Milinna said through her tears as she joined Pralmav. “I can help.” She put her hand on his chest, looking like she wanted to comfort him but not really knowing how.
“I’ll give you a list,” Pralmav murmured, seeming oblivious to the fact that his wife was also grieving.
Rabbina turned from Bhatraz, who was ignoring her grief, to look at Draklan. “Draklan, are you all right?” Rabbina asked him, reaching over to his face, despite his mother in his arms.
Draklan thought that she should be focusing on her husband and pulled his face away from her. “I’m fine, Rabbina,” he muttered, although he really wasn't. “I’m fine.”
“I want to see him,” their mother murmured, looking up at Draklan. “I want to see him now.”
Draklan looked to Pralmav. “Are you sure that he’s . . .” Draklan could barely bring himself to say it. “I mean . . .”
“The guards are sure,” Pralmav replied. “They wouldn’t have made the announcement otherwise.”
“I just want to make sure. I’m trying to make sense of this,” Draklan whispered.
“Draklan, I want to see him and remember his legacy, please,” his mother said softly.
“Of course, Mother,” Draklan replied, gathering her in his arms. “Anything.”
“My sons.” Their mother looked at each of them, tears still shining in her eyes. “Your father was a great man, a great leader. He’s left you, his heirs, to continue the legacy that he set out to protect.” She blinked away tears. “Please, remember that his wish was that you would pass this kingdom on to your own children—”
“Mother, he isn’t even cold!” Bhatraz said bitterly.
She looked at him with such devastation and betrayal. “Bhatraz! I may be grieving, but I am still Queen of Tamarax, and I will see to it that your father’s wishes that this kingdom lives on past you are fulfilled!”
“Mother,” Pralmav murmured, drawing her attention. “Let’s go say goodbye.”
It seemed to reset her emotions for a moment as she nodded, lifting her head regally.
Draklan was certain that there would never be peace in the palace again.
Peace didn’t come when his father’s body was blessed, washed, and set into the elaborate coffin. It still didn’t come when they all gathered in the large cathedral to put his father’s body to rest. As with all the kings of Tamarax, their father’s body would rest in the catacombs of the cathedral with the kings who had reigned before him. It was tradition. However, the thought of his father lying in cathedral forever brought him no peace.
He knew that once born into this family, there was no peace.
Draklan said nothing as the coffin was brought in and the entire congregation seemed to be washed in a wave of sadness as they sat. It was a grand funeral, the grandest that the kingdom had seen in nearly three decades. However, Draklan took no comfort in the decorations or in the grief of the people. It could not compare in any way to his own.
The archbishop started the service, his voice booming through the church.
“We meet here today to honor the life of King John. We give thanks for his life and wish him well now that his time in this world has come to an end.
“For King John, the journey is now beginning. But for us, there is loss, grief, and pain. Every one of us here has been affected by his passing, perhaps in small ways or perhaps in transformative ones. King John’s life mattered to us all. It is important for us to collectively acknowledge and accept that the world has fundamentally changed with his passing. We are all grieving. Life will not be the same, nor should it be. Together, let us open our hearts and commemorate the impact King John had on us.”
His mother broke down, leaning her head forward as she began to cry. Pralmav put his hand on her back in comfort. Draklan’s gaze turned to Pralmav’s wife, Milinna, who was also crying. However, Pralmav seemed to pay no attention to her grief, his entire focus on Mother. Draklan watched Milinna reach for her husband’s arm, and although he didn’t brush it off, he didn’t react as she pressed her face to his shoulder.
Draklan’s gaze turned to his other side as Rabbina touched his shoulder again.
“Are you sure you’re ok?” she whispered.
He found it so strange that she was paying attention him and not to Bhatraz, who was clearly locked in trauma and grief. Draklan shook his head at her and frowned, turning his gaze back to the archbishop.
“Please stand. King John is now safe. He is already on his way to heaven to enjoy all which awaits there. Let us say this final farewell to his body as we commit King John's physical form to its natural end. King John, we bless you and thank you for being a part of our lives. We honor your life on Tamarax and we pray for your peace ever after. We will not forget you. Go well into the kingdom of heaven.”
Draklan wasn’t sure what he believed at that moment. How could someone so full of life, who was taken so unfairly from him, go peacefully into heaven? There was so much work left unfinished and so much he still wanted to say to his father.
“We remember with love and gratitude a life that touched us all. I encourage you to help, support, and love those who grieve most. Allow them to cry, to hurt, to smile, and to remember. Grief works through our systems in its own time. Remember to bless each day and to live it to the fullest in honor of life itself—and of King John.”
It was a short ceremony, in the Tamarax tradition. Weddings, funerals, and all other ceremonies were kept short to focus on the relationships between people rather than the words that tradition dictated. Draklan couldn’t believe when it was over. He stood and shook hands with people who were exiting his father’s funeral. It all seemed a blur.
“You boys,” Uncle Don, their father’s brother, began, “you boys will make your father proud. I wish I could be here to see what you will do with your own legacies.”
“Duke Don.” Their mother accepted a hug from him. “I’m sure the boys will get started on building their own legacies soon.”
“I’m not trying to be disrespectful,” Draklan murmured quietly to Pralmav, “but . . . I can’t focus on finding a bride and starting a family right now.”
“Each of us has a different mission in life, Draklan,” Pralmav said wisely.
“But will you be able to fulfill Mother’s wishes?” Draklan asked, feeling curious. “You are so focused on your work.” He left out, and not on your wife, but he thought it.
“I have always been able to focus on work,” Pralmav replied, looking thoughtful. “Even at the worst of times. Sometimes too much, I’m afraid,” he said dryly.
“We all have our shortcomings.” Draklan swallowed a smile. “I think mine are . . . well, Mother thinks mine are numerous.”
“The coming days will be difficult,” Pralmav acknowledged, “but we will find a way to prevail.” He patted Draklan’s shoulder and gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Draklan wasn’t sure that was true. Pralmav had never been wrong before, but for the first time in his life, he doubted his brilliant brother. The task ahead of them seemed absolutely impossible. And as the youngest prince, he felt as if he was supposed to be the last hope if all else failed.
“I think I’m going to go for a hike,” he said, breaking away from his brothers and mother.
Everyone looked at him in shock.
“Right now?” Bhatraz asked, sounding incredulous. “Draklan, that is not—”
“No, Bhatraz, I need to do this,” Draklan said. “Please don’t stop me. I need this or I won’t be able to breathe.” He broke away before the rest of his family tried to stop him and made his way to the nearest exit. He needed to be outside, surrounded by nature. He needed to feel like life was bigger than his grief.
As he hiked, he thought of his mother’s wishes. Those she claimed his father wanted for him too. However, he wasn’t sure he’d ever find someone who would understand him. If he had to be alone the rest of his life, at least he had the mountains a
nd the landscape. And one day, he’d have the island to fill the void he felt inside his heart. Looking out over the vast and beautiful landscape, he wasn’t sure he’d ever fill the void his father left. But he had to try.
Chapter 1
Margot
“Delivery for Miss Margot Carter.”
Most people would have been delighted to hear those words. A surprise delivery containing any number of items could be waiting for them. But for twenty-seven-year-old Margot Carter, those words sent her stomach into a spiral of unhappy emotions.
“No,” she said, turning away from her easel. “Please take them back.”
“But Margot, they are such pretty flowers,” Tara protested. Tara had been renting the easel beside Margot for six years, and she knew exactly whom the flowers were from. “I can’t understand why you won’t accept a single delivery of those stunning bouquets!”
Over the past four days, there had been at least eight of them. God only knew where he was getting the money. Margot sighed and shook her head.
“Just take them.”
“You can take them if you want,” Margot said, going back to her easel. “But I don’t want them. I don’t want a thing from him.”
“You can’t fight forever,” Tara said.
Margot gritted her teeth. “No, I can’t,” she said. “And I don’t intend to. I just intend to never speak to him again.”
“Margot!” Tara said but waved the delivery guy away. She gazed longingly after them.
Margot sighed again.
“You’ve been with David forever. You can’t just throw it all away now.”
“I’m not throwing it all away,” Margot said, putting down her paintbrush. “He cheated on me, Tara. In our bed, one month after he proposed to me! You want me to spend the rest of my life with that?”
Tara closed her mouth, sputtering in shock.
“No,” she said. “I just thought . . . David seemed like such a good guy. I mean, he volunteers at the soup kitchens, he hands out food packages—”
“While refusing to get a job and living off my wages!” Margot answered. “And after five years, I’ve had enough. And you know what? I’ve had enough of this too!” She stood up, taking off her apron. “I’m out of here.”
“Margot, I’m sorry!” Tara called from behind her. “I just meant—”
Margot stopped and sighed before wiping her hands on her paint rag. “I know,” she said. “Everyone means well.” Once her hands were clean, she picked up her purse and headed out of the studio. She knew that the rest of the artists were staring at her, but she didn’t care. She had to get out of there.
Margot, a semi-successful painter, mostly in landscapes, had been painting for years, and she was thrilled that she could make a living from it. A year ago, she’d thought her life was perfect. She was in a long-term relationship, her paintings were selling well, and she and David were starting to plan their life together.
David wasn’t perfect, of course, but she figured that everyone had something to complain about in a long-term relationship. David seemed to be chronically unemployed, but he filled his time volunteering, so he at least wasn’t sitting at home all day. He tried to find a job all the time, or so he claimed to Margot, but it never worked out. Near the end of their relationship, she resented the fact that he acted as if he was entitled to her earnings because he spent his days volunteering. She saw it as David putting everyone else before their own household. When he had proposed, she’d said yes partly out of habit and partly because she wasn’t sure where David would go if she said no.
She hadn’t expected their life to fall apart. She hadn’t expected him to cheat on her.
And at that moment, she hadn’t expected him to be standing in the lobby.
“David!” she cried in exasperation. “What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to see if you got the flowers I sent you,” he said with a smile. Standing together, they were polar opposites in every way. David was tall and lanky, with dark hair and a sharp nose. His eyes were often flat and dull, devoid of any emotions.
Margot, by contrast, was small and compact, lean muscle hidden in her tiny curves. She had sparkling eyes and curly red hair, looking half imp and half stunning. People had always given them funny looks when they were together, as if one of them were an alien species.
Margot often had to remind herself that was possible nowadays. A few years before their relationship began, Earth had received confirmation of life on other planets. Since that confirmation, it seemed they were discovering a new planet a day. There were aliens who looked like them and aliens who didn’t. There were many humans who had left Earth already to seek out the adventures another world might hold.
Margot had often considered the possibility of being able to paint the landscape of another planet. But when she shared those dreams with David, he shook his head and asked her why she would ever want to leave the beauty of Earth.
In their five years together, it felt like they’d never seen eye to eye.
“The delivery man came and I sent him away,” Margot said. “Just like every other bouquet that you’ve sent me. Take the hint and stop sending them.” She tried to brush past him.
“Geez,” David replied. “This is the thanks I get for trying to be nice?”
“But you aren’t trying to be nice, are you?” Margot said, whirling on him. “You’re trying to apologize for not being nice to me at all. Or maybe you’re talking about being nice to someone else while I was at work?”
“Margot, baby,” David wheedled. “Don’t bring up the past. We should be looking toward the future.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. “Are you serious?” she asked.
“Look, I’ve had a long day,” he said. “You know how it goes. These less fortunate really drain the life out of you.”
“My sympathies,” Margot said sarcastically.
“So why don’t we just head back to the apartment and talk about this like adults?” David asked her. He took a step closer to her and she took a step away.
“No,” she said. “I’m going home and you’re going God knows where.”
“You know, it’s my apartment too,” David said.
Margot gritted her teeth. “It’s not,” she said.
“Why?” he raised his voice. “Because you paid for it all this time? Are you just going to throw that in my face again? Big, strong Margot, so much better than me because she has a job but never gives a dime to charity.”
“Because I don’t have a dime to spare,” Margot protested. “After paying the rent and bills for two people, there is nothing left to give.”
“Not that you would have given it if you had it,” David said. “You never were very charitable.”
She resisted the urge to punch him in the face. “I’m going back to my apartment,” she said. “Please leave me alone.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked away. She was shaking with anger as she went, her vision turning red.
“Margot, don’t you walk away from me!” David called after her.
It was useless, though, because she was already through the big glass doors. As soon as she rounded the corner, her cell phone started to ring. She glanced down at it to see David’s number pop up. Margot wanted to smash her phone against the sidewalk, but instead, she silenced it and kept walking.
It rang again and again.
Eventually, she reached into her pocket and turned it off. She knew he wouldn’t stop calling and she knew she’d have a hundred voicemails when she turned it back on, but she didn’t care. She just needed to get away from him.
If Margot had anywhere else to go when they broke up, she would have gone there. However, she’d no choice but to stay in the place where David had cheated on her. She had to sleep in the same bed where she had found him, drunk and with some redhead who looked almost identical to her.
Margot threw her keys in the bowl by the front door and plopped herself down on the couch as soon as she got home.
It was the middle of the day, and normally, when she was painting in the studio, she’d be there until the sun went down. She usually kept a strict schedule, painting outside three days a week and in the studio two days a week. Most painters she knew didn’t keep such a rigid schedule, but most of the painters she knew also didn’t make any money. Margot knew that she was very lucky, even if she wasn’t living like a king.
Of course, since David had moved out, most of her bills were cut in half, which helped.
She reached for her laptop on the couch beside her, entering her favorite search into Google.
The universe’s most beautiful landscapes.
She had looked at the list a million times before, and there was always one planet that really stayed with her.
Tamarax, half a galaxy away, had the most beautiful landscapes she’d ever seen. It had rolling cliffs and green grass for miles. The trees were lush, and the flowers seemed to always be in bloom. After a few minutes of gazing at Tamarax’s landscapes, she felt calmer. After a few deep breaths, she went to check her email.
There was one that caught her eye right away. It was from Claude Dupont, a local gallery owner whom she had submitted to months ago. She was pretty sure that her emails to him went straight into junk mail, judging from the lack of replies she got whenever she submitted to a show.
Dear Margot,
Thank you for your emails as of late. I have a show in three weeks, and unfortunately, the artist slated to open has decided their work will not be finished in time. Would you be available? I’ve attached the details of what I will need below, in terms of size and number of works. I can compensate you at the rate below as well as offer you the opportunity to sell your work. I have also attached the sales contract below.
Let me know if you are interested,
Claude.
“Ah!” Margot screamed to her empty apartment and put a hand to her mouth. She didn’t usually explode with emotion, but this was one of the biggest opportunities she’d ever had. Claude’s gallery was a gateway to the bigger galleries all over the world. Many of the artists he featured went on to much bigger things.
