Premonition: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 7)

by Valerie Mikles

  “I will inform the staff,” Torrance laughed. Collette had once hobbled around the Palace on a broken foot for half a week before the Prince of Health called the Prince of Law and had her handcuffed to her crutches.

  Jeremiah cracked his knuckles and leaned against the wall again.

  “Jeremiah,” Torrance said gently, uncertain about the impropriety of breaking Protocol. “Perhaps the Prince of Textiles can host the venue tonight so you can stay with your wife.”

  “Corin? No. No, he—I couldn’t ask,” Jeremiah stammered. “He can sit with Collette tonight. That will be best for both of them. I should talk to him.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Torrance said, following him down the hall to the children’s wing.

  “Alien threat?” Jeremiah asked, the words finally breaking through. “I thought they were docile. You brought them into the Palace. Have they… what have they done?”

  “Enjoyed our hospitality,” he said, scratching his head. “Their ship is named for a spirit.”

  “A hundred years ago, so was this Festival. These walls were decorated with their likenesses,” Jeremiah said. “Perhaps they haven’t suffered as we have.”

  Torrance glanced down and fumbled a beeping tablet from his pocket. “As we still are. I need to handle this. That creature attacked again,” he said gravely. “That’s twice in two days.”

  He turned the tablet and showed Jeremiah the report.

  “What is this thing?” Jeremiah asked, straightening his robe. “Where was it spotted?”

  Torrance put a hand on his elbow. “You handle the aliens. They are less likely to eat you. And if they try, there’s a chapter about that in the Alien Preparedness Plan.”

  He gave a slight bow before bustling down the hall, and for a moment, Jeremiah wondered if the sudden emergency had been orchestrated as a manner to pass responsibility for their guests. But Torrance was right. Rogue wildlife and violent citizens were the domains of the princes. Visitors from space were his. He could get Corin to sit with Collette, and then he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about leaving them alone to handle the visitors.

  When Jeremiah rounded the corner to the children’s wing, his daughter Regine poked her head out of Corin’s door and smiled.

  “Oh, good. It’s you,” Regine said, waddling into the hall, one hand under her pregnant belly. “I couldn’t stay much longer.”

  “Regine, when did you get here?” Jeremiah said, embracing his daughter.

  “As soon as I heard about Mom,” Regine said. “Is she awake yet?”

  “Yes. I would have called you if I’d known you were in the Palace. She was pretending to sleep when I stepped out. Don’t go see her unless you’re prepared to be berated for worrying too much,” Jeremiah warned, letting his arm settle around her shoulders.

  “I can relate. I’ve been unduly worried over for the last hour,” Regine quipped, walking with him back to Corin’s room. Corin stood by the open window, eyes alert, face pressed to the screen. “Corin has been obsessively fitting me with his new, improved pregnancy support pants, as if I won’t still be pregnant tomorrow.”

  “He wasn’t dressing you by the window, was he?” Jeremiah asked.

  “We’ve been spying on the travelers. It was the only way I could get him to stop fiddling with my clothes,” Regine said.

  “Go see your Mom. My shirt is missing a button. That should keep Corin busy,” Jeremiah said.

  Laughing, Regine crossed to the window and gave her brother a hug across the shoulders. “I’m leaving, Corin.”

  Corin’s trance was broken and he gripped his sister’s arms. “Stay. Stay with me a tonight,” he begged.

  “I have to go home to my babies now,” she said. “You could come with me. Bernie has been asking for months to play piano with his Uncle Corin. He’s learned a duet and everything.”

  Corin glanced sideways at his dusty, unused piano. His beaded robe was draped over the bench. It looked like he’d been adding to it. Jeremiah also noticed the bottle of juice on the desk and a few vials of recreational drugs. Maybe his son just needed the freedom to choose Festival on his own. Maybe he would be a good host.

  “You’re always welcome,” Regine said, ruffling his hair, but Corin didn’t respond, so she waved and left.

  Corin’s gaze returned to the window, but he was having more trouble concentrating on the scene below. Jeremiah sat near him, kicking himself for even thinking of handing his venue off to his son. Corin still wasn’t eating and his sallow skin sagged on his face.

  “They’re not speaking Nolan,” Corin said.

  Jeremiah perked up. His son had initiated a conversation.

  “No,” Jeremiah said. “I understand that they speak Trade.”

  “They’re not speaking Trade now,” Corin said.

  “Their version is a bit different from ours,” Jeremiah said. He suddenly wished he’d read Torrance’s reports so he’d have some substance to fuel a conversation. There was a list of things Torrance had given him to do, but his mind went blank.

  “It’s not that. Some of them were speaking Trade earlier, but those two in the courtyard now are speaking something entirely different,” Corin said.

  Jeremiah came up next to his son and listened. “Maybe they don’t want us eavesdropping.”

  “They fall in and out of it—Trade and two other languages,” Corin said. “Some of their people haven’t spoken Trade at all.”

  “But their Trade is understandable to you?” Jeremiah asked.

  “The cadence is odd, but the words are familiar.”

  Jeremiah had to wonder at his son’s ear, but he figured it was the same talent that made Corin so good at the piano.

  “Where did they come from?” Corin asked.

  “Outer space,” Jeremiah said. Corin looked at him, thinking it was a joke.

  “I’ve been tending to your mother and haven’t had a chance to greet them. You can ask when you meet them tomorrow,” Jeremiah offered.

  “Tomorrow?” Corin asked, his face falling. Corin had seemed skittish about the arrival of today, and his fear of tomorrow seemed even greater.

  “They came to trade. Chief Torrance is arranging meetings with all the Princes. If you find their dialect comprehensible, perhaps you could be a translator as well,” Jeremiah said.

  Corin’s jaw flapped. “I’m not available tomorrow,” he said.

  “What could be so important that you can’t make time to meet visitors from outer space?” Jeremiah asked.

  Corin looked from his beaded robe to the drugs on the dressing table and didn’t answer.

  “Can’t I meet them now?” he asked.

  “That’s what I came to ask,” Jeremiah said. He felt a surge of relief in knowing that Corin wanted to help. “Chief Torrance is preparing them for Festival. Attendance, not participation. They’ll need pair-rings.”

  “You’re giving them clothes, too, right? Visitors of the Palace cannot be dressed so dully,” Corin said.

  “You are the Prince of Textiles. If you want clothing provided, arrange it,” Jeremiah said, leaning back on his elbows.

  “I am the Prince of Textiles,” Corin repeated. “It’s my duty to clothe them. There’s not much time.”

  Corin looked out the window one last time, flashed a grin at his father, and then dashed out to complete his work. This was the sign of hope Jeremiah had been waiting for.

  15

  Collette sat cross-legged at the top of the stairs, her Magistrate robe draped over her bed clothes. Jeremiah had been gone too long for her to trust he just needed air. Something was going on with the visitors, and she wanted to be a part. Regine had said Corin’s room had a good view, and when Collette got there, Corin was gone. The visitors came in and out of the courtyard, and she found a computer tablet so that she could monitor reports coming in. There was no video surveillance in the guest suite, and the courtyard was protected by tall hedges, making this one of the only vantage points from which to spy.

&n
bsp; One of the women wandered into the yard and ran her fingers over the hedges. She had a maroon coat and the report said her name was Amanda Gray. She was the half-sister of Captain Matthews, and possibly had a medical condition, though she’d refused a doctor. She had no title, and the group didn’t seem to follow any Protocol for formal address. She looked directly at Collette, and for a moment their eyes locked. Collette caught a flash of a future she’d never seen before. The land was empty and the Palace gone. Her skin chilled, and she felt enormous pressure on her lungs. She caught a glimpse of something purple and shimmering in the sky. Then just like that, the premonition passed.

  Amanda’s eyes bulged, and she stumbled back, keeping her eyes locked on Collette. Had they just shared a premonition?

  Collette felt a hand on her shoulder and whipped around, finding herself face to face with the Prince of Health, Cyril Magdan. He gave her a withering look and plucked the computer tablet from her hand.

  “Is there any way I can convince you to rest?” he harped. Cyril was her cousin through a Festival half-sibling, but they hadn’t met until he applied for prince training six years ago. Now he nagged her like they’d known each other their entire lives.

  “I ran out of visitors,” she said, linking his arm. Her knees felt wobbly from the premonition. “I was looking for Corin.”

  “The Prince of Textiles is busy with our guests. Have you seen what they’re wearing?” Cyril laughed, guiding her back to her room, helping her get comfortable on the bed.

  Collette hadn’t thought about the ragged appearance of the woman in the courtyard. “You’re not letting them attend Festival, are you?”

  “Chief Torrance has already invited them, and they agreed. If you’d run back to the Palace instead of running into a bog to watch them land, perhaps you could have prevented this,” Cyril chastised.

  Collette swatted him and motioned for the tablet. He gave her a look, and she glared back. “If you don’t give it to me, I’ll just get up and find another,” she said.

  Rolling his eyes, Cyril handed the tablet over.

  “Please go downstairs and tell these visitors that they do not have to attend,” Collette said.

  “They are not on your docket. Sir Magistrate is handling it. You know Protocol,” Cyril said. The buttons on his robe rattled as the comm in his pocket vibrated. He put a hand on his sleeve to silence the sound. “I’m being summoned. That creature attacked again. That is the greater mystery. Someone pretending to be a physical spirit terrorizing our town.”

  Collette tapped her tablet, looking for the report on the rogue creature. They went back and forth on the notion that it might be a human. The marks on the first victim were too reminiscent of a gator. As soon as Cyril left, she tip-toed to her door, following discreetly. She could hear the men talking downstairs, and she sat on the top step to eavesdrop.

  “Dr. Gossard,” Cyril said, sounding annoyed. “If you are here to ‘help’ with the visitors—”

  “I asked him to come,” Chief Torrance said. “He witnessed the attack on the service officer. He treated the victim.”

  Collette sat forward, intrigued. Doctor Haren Gossard was a young physician with an old soul, and she’d often seen him by the river in the morning during her runs with Jeremiah.

  “Doctor, you said that the man can’t speak,” Torrance said. “The first victim was very vocal. Was the service officer’s neck wounded?”

  Collette called up the report, going text only, because she didn’t want to see the mauled man.

  “It’s possible a spirit has silenced him. As I understand, many have been afflicted by the arrival of the spirit Oriana, including the Magistrate,” Gossard replied.

  Collette felt her blood run cold at the implication.

  “It was not a spirit. We cannot allow that rumor to spread. The Magistrate is well cared for and recovering. And she can speak,” Cyril assured. “You found this victim?”

  “I was with my niece. She became upset. An officer heard and came to check on her,” Gossard said, picking through the words like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. “Then… it swooped out of the sky.”

  “So definitely a flying creature?” Torrance asked.

  “And a large one. The wings knocked me down. The officer was knocked down, too, and gouged by the creature’s claws,” Gossard said. Collette could hear in his voice that he was holding back. “Layna ran. I stayed to help. I’ve been treating injuries in the crowd most of the morning. There have been a lot of fights since the parade.”

  “Perhaps we should cancel Festival,” Cyril remarked. Collette nodded in agreement.

  Torrance guffawed. “Cancel Festival? That’s mad.”

  “I will have the Prince of Wildlife be on the lookout for a large raptor. If you or your niece have a better description, let the Prince know,” Torrance said.

  “These don’t look like the wounds of a predator,” Cyril mumbled to himself. Collette suspected he was reading the report Torrance had referenced.

  “It didn’t stay and fight,” Gossard said.

  “There’s no apparent damage to the vocal cords. No reason he shouldn’t be able to speak,” Cyril said, a little more engaged.

  “But you’re convinced it is not Oriana,” Gossard trailed off.

  “The creature came before Oriana’s vessel,” Torrance said. “If it’s a spirit, it is ours, and we must protect both our people and our visitors from it.”

  “Of course,” Gossard said. “While I am here, I was wondering if I could have a word with Madame Magistrate.”

  Collette’s ears perked. She realized that his voice had been stiff the entire conversation, every word carefully measured. When he treated people by the river, it was always softer and more paternal.

  “I’m sure she’s been eavesdropping,” Cyril said blithely. Then a moment later, he added, “Perhaps you could convince her to rest, doctor?”

  Collette started to holler a reprimand but realized she didn’t have the breath to shout. The treatment for heart failure was simple and effective, but it left her throat dry. Her chest ached where the needle had penetrated her breast. She knew she could speak. She wasn’t as bad off as the service officer.

  She heard Gossard’s footsteps on the stairs, and she scrambled to her feet. She had to keep one hand on the wall for support, and her vision went so blurry, she nearly fell down the stairs. She was surprised the doctor didn’t help her. He moved past her, then scooted a bench over for her to sit on.

  “I don’t need another doctor,” Collette grumbled, refusing to sit. She was already shorter than most men, and this close to Festival, she was more paranoid about the condescending looks she received. No one took women seriously in this town. The bi-annual Festivals were constant reminders of that. Women who became pregnant from it were teased and women who didn’t were shamed. Collette was grateful that Regine was pregnant again. The larger her family, the less it would matter whether she cross-paired. If only Corin could follow his sister’s example.

  “I apologize for intruding on the Magistrate’s private residence. I have taken it upon myself to see all the heart attack victims today,” Gossard said. His voice was still stiff, and she didn’t see the concern in his eyes that she expected.

  “Are there more than usual?” Collette asked, pulling her robe closed, not liking the way he looked at her.

  “We usually treat three or four per month. We had that many just this morning,” Gossard replied. “No fatalities, thankfully. It’s possible there’s a new Festival drug that has triggered the uptick, along with the arrival of the visitors. But of the ones I’ve spoken to, they all share something in common with you.”

  “Premonitions,” she whispered. She’d been experiencing premonitions her entire life and never had more than an adrenaline boost. This was a disturbing connection.

  “Did you have one today?” he asked.

  “Why? Did they? What did they see?” she asked. She knew there were other cursed in the city, but she
’d never sought them out. She worried it would look like they were conspiring, even if they were only trying to understand their curse and find a way to use it for good. “Did they see the raptor creature? Did they see how to kill it?”

  “Is that what you saw?” he asked.

  Collette’s throat tightened. Seeing this man was normally a calming part of her morning run, but today, he scared her. “If we’re all connected by the curse, you have to tell the Prince of Health. Why are you telling me and not him?”

  “As a physician, I see many things and keep many confidences,” he said cryptically.

  “Well, stop it. Our lives are at risk!” Collette hollered. The volume hurt her chest, and she saw sparkles from the rage. She rubbed the skin, wincing when she felt a bruise. She had bumps and bruises all over from being rushed through the crowd, but she’d gotten worse from tripping off one of the docks the week before.

  Taking a breath, she forced herself to be calm. “What did you see out there today? Did you see a spirit?”

  The doctor hesitated.

  “Tell me, or I’ll ring for my guards,” Collette threatened.

  His eyes crinkled, but he didn’t look scared. “I believe I saw a corporeal spirit attack a service officer.”

  “A twice-cursed child?” Collette murmured. The child of two Questres was called twice-cursed, and the lore of their power was steeped in paranoid legend. “A wolf-person with the ability to read minds, conjure portals, and kill with a glance?”

  The shimmering purple creature from her premonition took the form of a spirit in her mind’s eye. Nola would be gone, and only it would remain.

  “There is a reason we decided the spirits were not worthy of worship,” Gossard said. “That’s why we couldn’t link the wounds to local wildlife.”

  “A creature with that power would not leave a few non-lethal marks and disappear. It couldn’t blend into a crowd and we would have seen it flying,” Collette said. “Where did it go?”

  “I can’t say. I was on the ground,” he said. “How do I report what I saw without causing a mass panic?”

  The seriousness of his tone made her queasy. “The first attack was yesterday,” she said. “The spirit arrived one day in advance of these travelers. Maybe it came to warn us.”