Planet Origins

by Lucia Ashta

  “Very well. You’re all clear. Follow me now.” And the guard set off at a clipped but efficient pace.

  I did my best to keep up, but I only made it a hundred feet or so across the impeccable, reflective floor of the palace’s interior before Dolpheus spoke up. “Guard!” he called. “Milord Tanus has only recently awakened from a debilitating procedure.”

  I froze in mid-stride, every muscle in my body stiff. Dolpheus knew me well enough to understand why I didn’t show weakness. Not now, not ever.

  “Sir?” the guard said, backtracking toward us, not sure which one of us to look at.

  “Do you know that the great King also took part in this debilitating procedure? And that he too only just woke from it after days of unconsciousness because of it?”

  “No, Sir. I didn’t know this.” The guard snuck a glance at me. Sweat beaded across my hairline from the effort of keeping myself upright, even as I thought, Not bad, Dolpheus. It was hard to appear weak when he compared me to the mighty King Oderon.

  “A procedure such as this requires a long recovery. Yet Milord has been unable to rest. He intended on doing so at his estate. As it’s forbidden to transport within the palace grounds, he must walk when otherwise he shouldn’t be. So you will walk slowly as Milord uses his strength to walk when no ordinary man would.”

  The guard’s eyes flicked between Dolpheus and me nervously. “Of course, Sir, Milord. I was unaware. My apologies.”

  I nodded graciously, the extraordinary man, holding my face implacable while the world spun behind my eyes.

  This was why Dolpheus was my closest friend. I leaned into him more than I had before, now that he’d explained my behavior away. The guard proceeded at an exaggeratedly slow pace, but I wasn’t about to complain. At this rate, it would take us forever—much longer than the King was accustomed to waiting to receive what he wanted—to reach the King’s chambers. He should have sent a hovering glass bed—the ones reserved for the ailing—to retrieve me. But he hadn’t, and I probably wouldn’t have accepted the ride, anyway. It was one thing to show some weakness while I dragged myself across the sleek floor. It was quite another to lay prone on a stretcher for all to witness.

  By the time I reached the hall before the King’s chambers, a film of sweat coated my entire body beneath my clothing, and my hands and forehead were clammy. I’d given up thinking I would faint halfway there. Somehow, when I thought I couldn’t take one step more, my foot moved forward.

  The first of the whispers that King Oderon and Lord Tanus had engaged in a mind merge had already reached the eager ears of the courtiers. The guard didn’t select the most discreet route across the palace as Dolpheus had. He led us straight through the heart of the wasps’ nest. I watched the wasps through glazed eyes, as if I were watching the scene play out from far above, an observer and not part of it.

  The courtiers, in their elaborate costumes and gaudy colors, parted for us, opening up a trench in the midst of the artificial politeness of a barely disguised war zone. These were the most ambitious and vicious of people on Planet O, far more so than the rebels of the Koal desert, who mostly defended their right to be free from control and who did so openly and unapologetically. Still, the courtiers weren’t nearly as ruthless as King Oderon. Or my father.

  Not a single courtier bothered to disguise his stare. Not one of the ladies averted her gaze from my form, or from that of Dolpheus, although that probably had little to do with the rumors of the mind merge and more to do with the rumors that surrounded his lovemaking abilities.

  I was the only son and heir to a fortune and an empire of which most, if not all, of these people were customers. Splicing was costly. Only the richest of the rich could afford the procedure. And only the greediest of all Oers would want to safeguard their lives against accident or illness. Only they believed it necessary to forestall their appointments with death. They didn’t take any chances with their natural lives and the thousand or more years they spanned. They paid my father to eliminate chances, and my father hoarded every single grain of sand he demanded from them in exchange for an insurance policy against severe injury or death.

  I called my father an extortionist. These same sniveling courtiers called him a genius, even as he plotted to kill their king. Their loyalties lay where it was to their greatest advantage. If one of my father’s plotted coups were successful, they would congregate in the hall beyond my father’s chambers just as they did the King’s.

  Now, they assembled in this great hall out of concern for the King’s health and speed of recovery. But it would be a fool who believed their ruse. And I knew King Oderon to be no fool. The courtiers were a necessity that any king would tolerate. The King might rule all of Planet O, but the courtiers owned much of it. Their wealth lay in land and men. To remain king, a man needed the support of all the land and soldiers he could contrive.

  As Dolpheus pushed on, following the guard to the shiny wall that demarcated the entrance to the King’s private chambers, the whispers picked up behind us. By the time a door revealed itself from the sheer surface ahead of us, the whispers grew louder, so as barely to be whispers at all. The guard ushered us in, but didn’t follow. When the door closed behind us, it shut out the din of eager malice.

  The dim room behind the doors was still and quiet, and I thought I would like to collapse right there, in the middle of the floor, from the relief of it. But instead, I released the vise-like grip I had on Dolpheus’ arm and attempted to distance myself from him to stand on my own.

  I couldn’t. The moment I stood apart from him, I wobbled and a wave of nausea swelled within me. So I stood as tall as I could, with both arms at my side, and leaned into Dolpheus’ frame, much like a toppling tree that very much wished it wouldn’t topple.

  Two guards stood at either side of the opposite wall. These guards weren’t like those that checked identification at the palace’s entrances. These were dedicated soldiers. These were the men to whom the King entrusted his life. They measured a person’s strengths and weaknesses at first sight. Men such as these respected strength; it was the only real currency in which they dealt.

  It was unfortunate that I wasn’t my usual self. I had far too little of what these soldiers valued to deal with them. Still, there was nothing I could do about it. No one denied the King a request for an appearance. We’d already taken far longer than I would have wanted to respond to his summons. I needed the King on my side. Ilara needed her father on my side.

  “Step forward to be admitted to see the King,” one of the guards said. I stumbled more than stepped, but I responded right away, eyeing the sword that hung from this one’s belt. “Lord Tanus, you must step farther away from your Arms Master.”

  “Milord is un—” Dolpheus began, but I cut him short with a wave of my hand.

  “It’s all right, Dolpheus.” I moved away from my support, and sweat streamed down the small of my back from the effort of holding myself upright. The guard unholstered a wand that hung from the other side of his belt and waved it across my body. He did the same to Dolpheus, then put the wand away.

  I didn’t know how much longer I could stand as the guard patted me down. Hands swept quickly and roughly across my damp clothing. I received a wondering glance and a nod at the same time. He moved on to Dolpheus.

  Satisfied by our lack of immediate threat to the King—and his assurance was likely enhanced by the fact that I looked as if I would collapse at any moment—he returned to his station at one side of the door.

  Another guard spoke. “You may proceed.” A door materialized from the wall behind them and drew open with a soft whoosh that sounded much like the breath of a sleeping dragon.

  Reasonably, I wanted all my strength with me before I stepped into the lair of any dragon. I wouldn’t have it. I would have to face the dragon with what little I had left and wish for the best. Ilara’s return to the home that meant so much to her depended on that one wish and the drops of strength I had left.

  Eight


  Once Dolpheus and I entered the King’s private chambers, the King asked Lord Broon to leave. The royal physician looked as if he considered this a terrible idea, but didn’t question his liege. He bowed and left, with a long dubious look at Dolpheus and me.

  When the door swept closed behind Broon, the silence was deafening.

  We waited. Protocol was clear. No one spoke to the King unless he addressed you first.

  King Oderon sat in bed, propped upon a pile of luxurious pillows. The tight weave of the gossamer silk threads glistened in the low light like a spider web that caught setting sunlight. The pillows alone must be worth a substantial serving of sand. I’d never had reason to squander my wealth on pillows woven by insects.

  His silver hair and beard were impeccable, his posture composed, but his gray eyes gave him away. They were tired, and their exhaustion reached beyond the mind merge.

  In short time, the King had lost a woman to whom he’d been married for hundreds of years. He’d lost his queen, a good queen who was loved by her people. He’d lost a daughter to secret banishment, forced to continue the ruse of her death. He sat on an uncertain throne. If he died—and it was the only way to depose him—he feared being the last of the Andaron line to rule. The Andaron dynasty had fought hard for peace for Planet Origins. It had been a bloody and merciless start, but peace had reigned for millennia since in the Andaron name.

  “Come closer.” Like his eyes, the King’s voice was tired, though he also knew better than to reveal too much of his weakness. If a show of debility was dangerous for me, it was even more so for him.

  Sharp gray eyes studied us; I was certain they didn’t miss a single thing. The silence pounded through my ears. My vision clouded over in waves. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand on my own, without Dolpheus’ support. There was no worse time to feel such weakness than right now before a legendary king.

  The King addressed Dolpheus. “Draw up a seat for your friend and then leave us.”

  Dolpheus raised an eyebrow ever so slightly at the word “friend” but moved to do as the King asked. He set a seat before me and locked eyes with me before moving toward the door. Even before a royal command, my friend made it clear where his loyalties lay. I nodded in a way that I hoped was imperceptible to the King, and Dolpheus left us.

  “Sit. You look as if you’ll collapse at any second.” I never thought I would sit before King Oderon, but I hurried to. I sat with a straight back even though I wanted nothing more than to melt into the upholstery. A drop of sweat trailed across my forehead. I didn’t dare swat at it.

  I waited again, acutely aware of how that gray gaze attempted to penetrate me. I wished I could swat it away too. Wasn’t it enough for this King that I’d bared all my thoughts to him? Did he have to continue poking and prodding?

  When the King finally spoke, relief washed over me. I didn’t care much what he said anymore though I knew I should. I just wanted these very long last few days to be over. I wanted to be free of the palace, free of the reach of the King and everyone else. I wanted Ilara, the woman, not the princess. I didn’t want all of this. I didn’t want any of this.

  “I saw enough in your memories of Dolpheus to know that he can be trusted. In fact, I wish I had a friend such as he. Yet I cannot speak of my daughter in front of him. I hadn’t thought that I’d speak of her to you—ever—but I see now that I must.”

  At his words and the suggestion of trust, my shoulders relaxed even when I hadn’t known I was tensing them. Everything hinged on the King’s next words. The well-being of my heart, the woman I loved, and perhaps an entire planet waited with me, to see what this man with a kingdom in his hand would say.

  “That was my first mind merge. Did you know that?”

  “No, your Majesty. I didn’t.”

  “Well, it isn’t a very common procedure. And with good reason. There has never been anyone brave enough—or foolish enough—to suggest one to me, before you. I saw everything I wanted to see—and things that no father wants ever to see. There was nothing that was hidden from me. Nothing.”

  I forced myself to meet the King’s stare as he emphasized his last word. I’d faltered some in my initial meeting with the monarch; the man was larger than life and I’d known all that I was putting on the line in coming to see him. But since then I’d settled into the idea. I’d already taken the plunge. The worst of it was done.

  There was little I could do now to influence the King’s decision. All I could do—all I wanted to do—was to be myself. And I was a strong man. I might have felt like collapsing, but that was only my body threatening to give out. I—the real me—was going nowhere. It was my heart that was leading me to Ilara. It was my heart that was prepared to fight for her. And there wasn’t a hint of weakness within my heart.

  So what if, within my memories, he’d seen Ilara and I make love? I understood that was what he was referring to, that no father wanted to see his little girl with legs spread in passion and a man atop her. Ilara and I’d made loud, passionate love, and we’d done so often. But I wouldn’t shrink away from what this father was extending as a form of judgment. I was finished shrinking away from things for now—and maybe for good. I thought perhaps that some of my usual strength was even returning to my body (although it might have just been the relief of sitting after the arduous walk back and forth across the palace).

  Again, the piercing gray stare. This time, I stared back with just as much resolve. After a few moments, the King looked away, into the shadowy recesses of the room, dimmed to promote the King’s healing. “You took a big risk in coming to see me.”

  “Yes, your Majesty.”

  Again, the stare. Again, the heavy silence with the unfair advantage that this man knew me in a way I couldn’t possibly know him.

  “I’m glad that you did.”

  My heartbeat sped up for an instant. It was hope that dared to flutter within my chest cavity until I forced it down, wary. I knew better than to think things would be easy. Nothing in my life had been easy, not since my mother left.

  The King nodded. His shiny silver hair slid around his head while I watched, mesmerized, dazed, suddenly aware that I wasn’t as present as I’d thought I was. My brain is still not at its full strength since the mind merge, I reminded myself. I had to remain alert.

  “You took a great risk indeed. But I understand why you did. It was the only way to gain my trust.” He paused, studying me again. I forced myself to keep my awareness within the room. I’d worked too hard and for too long to let it all go to waste. But have you ever tried to focus your mind when it didn’t want to focus? It took more will to concentrate than it did to raise a sword in combat.

  “You’ve gained my trust.” The King’s voice was soft. These were words he rarely spoke. The king of an entire planet had few people he could truly trust.

  My breath hitched in my chest before rolling along. I stilled even further in anticipation of what would come next.

  “It’s difficult to accept that you and Ilara loved each other for so many years, and that she didn’t trust me with this information.”

  Once more, the silence. The King let his words hang in the air before moving on, giving them the full impact he wished for them. “I understand why she made this choice, although I regret it. And you were both right. I wouldn’t have trusted you. I wouldn’t have approved of the match. Before the mind merge, I saw you as the son of a man who’s determined to destroy my family and my kingdom. The son of a traitor and a schemer who’s more dangerous than the Vikus vipers.”

  “And now? How do you see me now, your Majesty?”

  Another pause. This man had the theatrics of royalty mastered. “I see you as a man I’d like to have as a son. I see you as a man worthy of being at my daughter’s side.”

  This. This was more than I’d hoped for. I dared not speak for fear that I might have misheard.

  “I see that I can trust you with her safety. You’re a good soldier.”

&nbs
p; I raised my eyebrows. Had he looked at absolutely everything in my life? Was there nothing that he’d left to me? Couldn’t he have left me something?

  “It isn’t just the mind merge, Tanus. I’m not isolated from rumors at the palace. As little as I enjoy the gossip, I’d be a fool not to pay attention to it. Within the exaggerations, more often than not, there’s a seed of truth, a seed of what’s to come. If I pay attention to the seed, I can often truncate the plant before it grows tall.

  “I know that you are adept with a sword and other weapons. I know that you’ve trained since you first could walk and that there are few other horsemen as good as you on Planet O. I also know that your father hasn’t asked for your help in his attacks against me because he doesn’t trust you.”

  Were there rumors circulating that I didn’t support my father? Those were almost as dangerous as a rumor of lack of support for the King. I’d learned to be cautious with my father, and much of that meant doing nothing to give him cause to notice me.

  “That I learned from the mind merge,” King Oderon said. It seemed that this man didn’t need to be connected to my mind through crystal dust to read my thoughts.

  “My father wasn’t always a man as terrible as he is now. There was a time, when I was a boy, that he was kind. At least, that’s how I remember him.”

  The King didn’t speak. My father had once been a captain of his armies, perhaps my father and the King had even been friends at one time.

  King Oderon waited for me to continue. This man wouldn’t be satisfied until he drained every last drop of information from me.

  I raised my head in a hint of defiance, but kept it in check. I hadn’t forgotten for a second with whom I was speaking. “He changed when you ordered his mother killed.”

  “When I ordered his mother killed?”

  “Yes, your Majesty.” The King might have said that I had his trust, but I wasn’t stupid enough to say another word about the death of my grandmother, a woman that I didn’t remember.