by Zara Zenia
Dear Claude,
I would absolutely be interested, and yes, I can commit. I have signed the sales contract and attached it. Please let me know when I can start moving my pieces into the gallery. I am so excited!
Margot
She drafted the email quickly, afraid that if she didn’t, he’d change his mind. It was only once the email was written and sent did she look at the requirements.
“Oh, my God.” She put a hand to her mouth. She was expecting a much smaller show, but he was giving her practically the whole space. The number of pieces he wanted, however, far outweighed the number she had available. At least, it far outweighed the number of pieces she had that she was comfortable showing.
She had three weeks to get everything ready.
She closed her email browser, realizing she needed to get back to work right away. The email browser gave way to the landscape page that she thought she’d closed.
Tamarax’s beautiful landscapes once again stunned her, making her gasp.
She didn’t like painting from a picture, especially a place that she had never been. However, as she gazed at the picture, she knew she had to try and recreate it. After all, it might be her only chance to paint it and sell it. A show like this could make or break her.
She hit Print, standing up and retrieving the image from her laser printer. She wasn’t brave enough to make this the feature of her show, but she could at least make it a good-sized piece, perhaps a complementary one to whatever it was that she did feature.
She decided that she should turn her phone back on, knowing that there would be hundreds of messages from David. Just as she turned it on, it rang. With a sigh, she looked down, expecting David, but then she saw that it was her mother calling.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, putting it on speakerphone as she got her paints out.
“Margot, what’s this I hear about you breaking up with David?” her mother asked.
Margot turned to the phone, horrified.
“What? Who told you that?”
“David called me,” her mother said. “He said that—”
“Mother, please don’t believe a word David said,” Margot tried to convince her. “He—”
“Margot, you’re getting older,” her mother scolded her. “You’ve been with David for five years. Do you really think that you’re going to get a better man than him?”
Margot sighed. “I don’t know, Mother. There’s a whole universe out there now,” Margot said. “The chances that my soulmate is on the same planet as me—”
“Please reconsider, dear,” her mother said. “David is such a nice boy.”
“He’s not, Mom. You don’t know the half of it,” Margot said, knowing that there was no way of convincing her mother otherwise. “Listen, Mom, I’ve got some exciting news. Do you think you can come into the city in three weeks? I’ve been invited to do a show at Claude Dupont’s gallery.”
“Who?” her mother asked.
“He—never mind.” Margot sighed. “Can you come?”
“I’ll see, dear,” her mother answered. “It’s a bit of a short notice.”
“Yes, I know it is, Mom, but try, would you?” Margot said. “I really should get to painting. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“All right, dear,” her mother said, and they hung up.
Margot sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. After a phone call like that, she was definitely going to paint Tamarax. She needed to escape from Earth, even if it was for a short time.
David continued to call several times, but Margot just ignored them as she got lost in the painting. Every time she dipped her paintbrush, she found herself growing calmer. Eventually, her phone stopped ringing and the painting was half done.
She stepped back, looking at what she had created. She didn’t want to blow her own horn, but she thought it was perfect.
“Escapism,” she said out loud. She was going to call her show Escapism. It was perfect, and she had several paintings that could fit into that theme. Most of them were already finished, so maybe she wasn’t as tight for time as she thought.
If this show went well, maybe she could get away from this apartment that had so many bad memories. All she needed to do was sell enough paintings to fund first and last month's rent in a half-decent place. She realized she didn’t care where it was, as long as she was free of David’s whining voice.
Margot threw herself into her work over the next few weeks. When she returned to the studio, her colleagues apologized to her, but she didn’t even really hear them. She was escaping into her work as she painted, dreaming of a life that was far away from her reality.
The night of her show, she was beyond nervous. All of her pieces were already at the gallery, and from what Claude told her, a full house was expected. There was champagne and strawberries, and her name was on the front door, advertising the show. The local newspaper had even done a small piece on it, which prompted her to buy several copies of the newspaper and preserve them. She was wearing a green gown that picked up the green specks in her light brown eyes, and she had even gotten her nails done.
When she arrived at the gallery, she was prepared for a perfect night. But as she entered the room, she noticed David was there, standing on a small white block in the center of the room. He had a microphone in his hand and he looked delighted to see her. Her heart fell to her stomach. What is he doing?
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said. “The love of my life, the guest of honor, has just arrived.”
“Oh, my.” Margot put a hand to her mouth. “What are you . . .” She was so angry she was shaking.
“In case you didn’t know, this woman has been my heart and soul for the past five years,” David said. “And recently, we’ve hit some rough patches. So I thought there would be no better place to reignite our love than here, at her successful show. And what a beautiful job she’s done, don’t you agree?”
“David.” Margot took a step forward, trying to hide how livid she was at him. “Please stop.”
“She’s so shy, so humble,” David commented. “My beautiful Margot. I was wondering, will you put our past aside and allow me to propose again?”
Margot’s jaw hit the floor. She’d never been so angry. She wanted to use the microphone to hit him over the head. She wanted to shove him off the block and beat him with that microphone. She was even willing to sacrifice one of her paintings to hit him over the head.
She considered her options quickly. I could lie to him. I could run. I could pretend to be overcome with emotion and not answer. But none of those options felt true to her personality. Margot was strong, and she spoke her mind, even when it would ruin everything.
“No,” she said, harshly. “No, David, you know I can’t do that,” she seethed.
A hush fell over the crowd.
“What?” David looked like a sad puppy dog under his shaggy dark hair. “Why not? I love you.”
“I don’t want to marry you,” Margot repeated. She took a step away from him. “Please stop.”
“But we belong together,” he said. “You belong here, with me.”
“No, I really don’t,” she said as tears fell down her face. She knew she was ruining her makeup, but she couldn’t help it. Her night was ruined. “I don’t belong with you.”
“Well, baby, why don’t you let me convince you?”
“No.” Margot backed another few steps away and then turned and ran. Everyone was staring at her, and she knew that she couldn’t stay. Her high heels clicked against the marble floor as she ran away from her dream, from the life she used to have.
She decided that she couldn’t face a taxi driver, so she started to walk back to her apartment. It was a long walk and a cold night, but she thought it would clear her head.
As she walked, she pulled out her phone. She didn’t even know what she was looking for until it came up.
Tariana Drax, Intergalactic Matchmaker, 100% success rate with Celestial Mates
Tariana was
the cutest alien Margot had ever seen. She had silky blue fur and enormous crimson eyes with adorable fan-like ears. She looked innocent, like an anime character.
Margot clicked on the video on the front page of the website.
“Hi, welcome to Tariana's Love Match. I’m Tariana Drax, an intergalactic matchmaker working with Celestial Mates dating agency.” She spoke as adorably as she looked, with a fast voice that seemed to fit her monkey-like hops and skips. “There’s a whole universe out there. It’s so big you might spend your whole life searching for your soulmate—or you could let me do it for you. Our matches through our dating agency, Celestial Mates, have been one hundred percent successful, and we won’t stop looking until you are happy.” The video showed pictures of happy couples of different races, followed by testimonial videos. Tariana’s site had hundreds of five-star reviews as well.
Before Margot could think straight, she began to fill out a profile. She uploaded a picture and selected her interests from a drop-down menu.
When it came to selecting what planet she was interested in, she paused, scrolling through the long list.
Most of them were ineligible to her, as an Earth citizen. But when she got to T, she was delighted to find that Tamarax was listed, with marriage visas only beside it. She didn’t quite understand what that meant, but she selected it and moved on to the next stage of her profile.
By the time she got back to her apartment, her profile was completely filled out.
All that was left was to pay the deposit, and Tariana would get to work for her.
Margot paused at the front door to her building. Hitting the Submit button felt final. She was no longer dreaming about escaping this life. She was literally paying to have someone help her do it.
Her fingers hovered over the button a moment longer, and then she pressed it.
She was ready to leave this life behind her. Her career as a painter, as far as she assumed, was ruined because of David’s stunt tonight. She wasn’t sure she could open her heart up to legitimate love again, not after David broke it.
It was a long shot, because she knew girls from Earth weren’t particularly desirable to other races. Still, she needed to try. She deserved to be happy, and she owed it to herself to explore every opportunity to find that happiness.
Even if it meant taking a ship a million miles away and never picking up a paintbrush again.
Chapter 2
Draklan
“The queen would like to see you in the Grand Hall today.”
Those words didn't used to make him roll his eyes. When he was a child, he used to be thrilled to be summoned to the Grand Hall. It was a place of great majesty, with their family history etched on the wall. It was the place where he and his brothers used to play at night after all official business was done. It was a place where so many would come, bow to his father, and offer his mother and father gifts.
Prince Draklan shook his head, trying to dismiss the happy memories. They weren't going to come around again. He focused on the footman who was delivering the information to him.
“Right now?” he said. He was halfway through a workout session and he didn't have any interest in stopping.
“The queen has several things on her docket today,” the footman said. “She wishes to see you at four o'clock.”
“Four o'clock it is,” Draklan replied, glancing at the clock. It was only half past two now, so he would have time to finish and mentally prepare himself to be subjected to another lecture by the mighty Queen Joronna of Tamarax.
“The queen wishes me to request that you not be late,” the footman continued.
“I won't be,” Draklan replied, tensing his muscles to jump into a handspring again. “I value my life.”
Sometimes, Draklan thought that he was the only one in his family who valued their life. His mother, Queen Joronna, ruled Tamarax with an iron fist. In her seventies, she was always perfectly coiffed and dressed, putting more effort into her outfits and jewelry than her own health. Since his father's passing, Joronna seemed to use every spare moment that she had left to make sure her sons turned out perfectly.
Draklan felt like the pressure of the last five years was more intense than the first twenty-five years of his life. Joronna was determined that her sons live a righteous and fruitful life, marrying and having children to secure the throne. She was determined to secure their places in the afterlife, even if their wedding vows were the last thing that her green eyes saw.
Draklan was the youngest, and the black sheep, or so he felt. His brothers, Pralmav and Bhatraz, were married before they’d lost their father. His brothers seemed to be on their way to Joronna's version of perfection, even if their marriages weren't quite that perfect. Mother still retained the title of queen, but she had set Bhatraz up to rule the entire continent in her stead, and his brother Pralmav was smart beyond belief.
All Draklan had was his hand-to-hand combat skills, native martial arts that he spent every ounce of spare time practicing. He didn't have time to think about women, especially given that his brothers’ marriages were far from perfect. His future had been written in stone from the moment he was born. As the youngest son, he was entitled to the Archipelago kingdom. His mother, however, was holding his dynasty hostage until he married, and he had a feeling that was what the conversation was going to be about.
Draklan leapt into a front handspring, moving across the room flawlessly. His lean muscular chest was heaving, but he flipped into a back spring, going back across the room before he took a deep breath.
His long silver hair fell into his face, and he brushed it aside, glancing in the mirror. Everyone had told him, growing up, that he was going to be a great warrior with his gymnast build and lean muscles. His green-blue eyes were piercing, made even more so by his choice of dark clothing. He knew that he could be intimidating, and it was most likely the reason that he’d yet to find any woman who seemed even remotely interested in him.
Deciding that he’d worked out enough today, he picked up his towel and sipped from his water bottle. He had an appointment to see both Bhatraz and Pralmav before he went into the Grand Hall, and he was going to have to hurry if he didn't want to be late to his meeting with his mother.
As he exited the gym, he glanced up at a portrait of his father, still hanging on the largest wall. Father's piercing eyes looked down on him, half protective and half judging. If Father had fallen ill and slipped away, Draklan would have found peace with it. If he had fallen in battle, noble and strong, as a king should, Draklan thought he'd be able to find peace at night. But the former king of Tamarax hadn’t fallen in battle, and he hadn’t grown old on the throne. Five years ago, he’d been assassinated in an ignoble and brutal way. His life was cut short before he made plans for the future and properly taught his sons how to inherit the kingdoms he left for them.
It had caused such a rift in the family that Draklan knew they would never be the same, even if they learned how to put up false smiles. His oldest brother, Bhatraz, had witnessed his father's murder, and their mother harbored much resentment toward Bhatraz for not saving their father. His middle brother, Pralmav, normally so smart, with an answer for everything, had thrown himself into his work, turning into even more of an introvert over the past five years. Even though their father had died five years ago, Draklan still felt as if they had to walk on eggshells around each other, all while trying to govern of planet together.
He showered quickly, letting the rainforest water wash over him as his muscles slowly relaxed. He used his workouts as a way to get away from the world, to forget about being a prince, and forget about running a kingdom. However, as much as they were an escape for him, he knew that they couldn't last forever.
He pulled on more dark clothes, braiding his long silver hair before going to see his middle brother, Pralmav.
As a child, Draklan was always jealous of Pralmav because his middle brother excelled at school. Nothing seemed to come difficultly to Pralmav. It was as if he mem
orized everything that he saw or read, and he seemed to be able to pull out that information at any time. If there was an academic or historical answer Draklan needed to anything, he went to his middle brother without hesitation.
As far as Draklan was concerned, Pralmav had already secured his legacy in the world. A career scientist, Pralmav was the lead scientist on a project that had eradicated a deadly disease on Tamarax that they had feared their whole life. Arcadia was responsible for millions of infant female deaths in the history of the planet. But as soon as Pralmav got on the project, he found a cure as if it was nothing. If Draklan's escape was the gym, then Pralmav's was the lab.
Draklan had to memorize half a million codes just to get into the lab to see Pralmav without an escort. The idea that his brother would interrupt his work to come and get his younger brother was insane to Pralmav, and Draklan knew better than to suggest it.
After a few trials and errors with the keypads, he eventually got into the lab where Pralmav was working that day.
“Brother,” he said.
Pralmav didn't look up at all. Tall and thin, he had long since gotten rid of his hair to wear a silver skull cap most of the time. He thought his hair got in the way of his work, and like everything else that got in the way of his work, it had to go. Taller and slimmer than his brothers, he often forgot to eat when he was lost in his research. Sometimes, Pralmav thought that he went deaf to the entire world when he was researching.
“Pralmav!” he called.
His brother jumped. “Draklan!” his brother said with a start. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Six hours,” Draklan said with a grin. He jumped up on the counter.
Pralmav immediately shook his head. “Please get down.”
“Come on, I'm not going to break anything,” he said. “I'm a trained warrior, Pralmav. I know exactly where my hands and feet are at all times.” To provide it, he threw his hands out, narrowly avoiding several tests tubes and beakers that were set out.
