I blink, feeling a tug of emotion in my gut. “I—I feel the same way about you.”
Before we can say anything else, a swell of additional noise comes from the room next door. New voices, and I think I recognize Consul Denu.
In a few moments someone knocks on my bedroom door. Apparently more of my new wardrobe has been delivered, including my formal dress for tonight’s Imperial Court Assembly.
The next hour is filled with what to me is generally incomprehensible stuff—dealing with clothing accessories and outfits, and being fitted into the most impossible stunning formal dress of my life—a thing of many ethereal layers of gold mesh over a base of crimson embroidered with more gold, that basically belongs in a museum.
Consul Denu, various servants and tailors surround me and take control of my puppet body. Most of my female friends “ooh and ah” and participate in this terrifying process that takes place in my bedroom, while the guys, including my Bridegroom, remain in Aeson’s office where eos bread is being served. Yeah, these lucky boys get to eat and not fuss over clothes. The two Imperial Aides join them, chewing their food at the desk—since apparently they are allowed to have their “lunch” break right here, and free Palace breakfast and lunch—or their Atlantean equivalent—is part of their job perks.
Meanwhile, Gracie makes various exclamations of delight and touches the fabrics. Hasmik tells me I look magical. Dawn and Laronda go through some of the boxes in a businesslike fashion, examining the newly arrived “merchandise,” while Chiyoko sits on my bed and just sighs with wonder at the whole thing.
“Manala, I hope we’re not boring you,” I tell the Imperial Princess who is watching from a chair in the corner.
“Oh no, Gwen!” she hurries to say with excitement. “This is very good and very important for your Court appearance tonight!”
“Yeah,” I mutter, standing with my hands raised as a seam is being adjusted. “I can’t wait.”
Meanwhile, Consul Denu goes over what I must do and how I must behave in Court tonight.
“This Assembly is your first formal Event as the Bride and Imperial Consort, and all attention will be on you,” he says, sitting in a chair regally and observing the tailors adjusting the dress on me. “We will begin grooming and dressing you from third hour until sixth hour when Court begins. For now, I want to give you the main details of what awaits you after you step inside the gates of the Pharikoneon tonight.”
And as he tells me, I listen with growing trepidation.
Eventually the dress fitting is done, my new clothes are put away by servants, and Consul Denu leaves, saying he will return in time, but that I must promise him I will rest in bed for at least two hours before everything begins.
We return to the workroom where we consume some tasty food and chat for another hour, until it becomes obvious that as a result of the excessive gravity, all the newly arrived Earth refugees are exhausted. I see that Gordie and Blayne look ready to pass out on the sofa, and the girls look wilted. I am not feeling all that great myself, so Aeson makes arrangements for guest apartments in the Palace for everyone, so that my friends can rest and stay at least overnight and have the chance to see me some more.
“Gee Two, can I just stay with you here tonight?” Gracie says sleepily, yawning in her chair where she is curled up. “I can sleep on this couch, or in your room in one of those big chairs, or on the floor—anything. Please?”
I glance at Aeson who is seated near Gordie and Blayne—the guys have been talking about sharpshooter techniques and other Blue Quadrant stuff, since both Aeson and Gordie are Blues (which only now occurs to me), so they kind of share some underlying interests.
So I ask him about Gracie staying with me, at least for tonight.
“Of course,” Aeson says, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Whatever makes you both more comfortable. I’ll have them put in an additional guest bed in your room. Though, there are a number of other spare bedrooms your sister is free to use on your side of the Quarters.”
“Thank you! But I think the whole point is for us to be in the same room this once,” I say with a fond glance at Gracie. “A kind of sister slumber party. So, no need for a guest bed, we’ll both fit just fine in mine.”
“Yay!” Gracie says from her chair, with droopy eyelids. “It’s sooo nice here. . . . I can’t believe I’m in a real Palace, and Gwenie is gonna be a princess and go to a fancy ball thing. . . .” And she yawns again and closes her eyes.
“I think Lark Two is turning into a pumpkin,” Blayne says. “It’s still Atlantean morning, I suppose, or close to noon, but I think we are all no good. Nasty gravity. I feel drained.”
“It really is nasty,” Laronda says, leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms behind her. “Feels weirdly like you would after a whole long day of swimming at the community center pool or beach or something . . . you know how you get out of the water and can barely drag yourself around, and your body feels limp as a noodle, with no energy.”
“So how come all you Earth arrivals are so pitiful? Where’s your stamina?” Anu looks up from his spot at the desk where he and Gennio are working, while the rest of us—Aeson included—are sort of lazing about.
“Why? Are you talking to me?” Laronda throws him an annoyed glance.
“You’re an Earth arrival, so yeah,” Anu says with a frown.
“That’s not a fair question,” Gennio says. “Come on, Anu, you know why. They were all born and lived all their lives in a lighter gravity environment, so their bodies are biologically adjusting—”
Anu rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Still, pitiful.”
“Oh, please.” Laronda gives Anu a bored look. “You want pitiful? Your pitiful bridge is getting lonely and neglected, so go tend to it, yakety-yak-yak.”
“Huh?” Anu opens his mouth to say something, frowns.
“Bridge,” Laronda says. “Goes with ‘t-r-o-l-l.’”
Anu’s pale face starts turning a flaming shade of pink.
I notice he does not dare pursue the grumpy discussion further—not with Aeson himself giving him a stern glance and silently pointing a finger at the computer console.
“Aeson,” I say suddenly. “This thing tonight, the Imperial Court Assembly—what if my brother and sister wanted to come also? Are they permitted?”
Aeson watches me thoughtfully. “Yes. They are your family, so of course they may come.”
Gracie immediately perks up.
Gordie on the other hand, pauses with his mouth open and puts down whatever food he was about to put in it. “Whoa . . .” he says. “What’s this? No, I don’t do balls and parties. Do I have to wear something weird? No way, count me out, man.”
“You don’t have to come, Gordie. But it would be nice to have you there,” I say gently. “You know it’s going to be a little scary for me. . . . So I could use all the moral support I can get.”
“Oh, man. . . .” Gordie looks at me guiltily, and I can see the gears are turning in his mind.
“Gordon, appropriate clothing will be provided, if that’s an issue,” Aeson says. “You and Gracie may both stand with the Low Court, and Consul Denu will be there to make sure all is according to Protocol. There is basically nothing you have to do but stand and watch the proceedings.”
“Oh, wow!” Gracie exclaims. “Thank you! Oh wow!”
“I’ll be there too,” Manala says. “During the first formal portion of the Assembly I will have to sit in the Imperial Seats near the Throne, but once we are allowed to descend and mingle, I will stay at your side, Gracie! And you too, Gordon!”
“Then it’s settled. I will make the arrangements for you both.” Aeson raises his wrist and taps the comm device to call the appropriate Palace staff.
Gordie sits looking somewhat dazed, and whispers, “Well, eff me. . . .” And then, realizing his slight blunder, he starts to turn red.
“What is eff-me?” Manala says.
Anu makes a choking sound.
“Oh, gro
w up,” Dawn mutters tiredly.
But I am no longer paying attention. My thoughts are racing, my stress levels are rising, because it suddenly hits home what is about to happen tonight.
I’ll be playing my first formal Imperial role tonight.
And this time, by choice.
Chapter 13
So okay, I know it’s weird, but we all end up semi-sleeping through the rest of the afternoon. And I mean, all of us Earth refugees. Such a nice lazy, comfy afternoon in the company of my now-mellow and sleepy friends. . . . Only, why do I feel like it’s the calm before the storm?
At some point Aeson gets up from his seat, comes up to me, leans down close to my ear and tells me to get some real rest, while he brushes my cheek softly with his fingers. “I’ll return in time to get ready.”
I nod at him with a goofy smile pasted on my face, because just seeing him like that looming above me makes me all warm and happy.
“Bye!” Laronda waves to Aeson from her chair. “Thanks so much for having us over, Mister Command Pilot Prince, Sir!”
Aeson nods to her with amusement, and then acknowledges the others, before leaving the workroom.
Manala calls up the levitating smart screen TV and starts watching something with the sound turned down.
I glance over to the sofa and see Blayne is asleep, Gordie is asleep, Dawn is asleep, and Hasmik is barely muttering something to Chiyoko who also looks semi-conscious. Yeah, this is only their first day on the surface of Atlantis, and the gravity shock is taking its toll on their bodies. . . . I, who’ve been here a little longer, am doing only slightly better.
“Go to bed!” Gracie moans at me.
“You too!” I say. “We have a very long night ahead of us.”
And so I return to my bedroom, with Gracie trudging after, and we both get in my very large bed, and stake claim to our own pillows.
“This is so weird,” I mutter, lying next to my little sister. “We’re both here, on Atlantis! We made it, Gee Four!”
But Gracie doesn’t answer because she’s fast asleep.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
The next time I open my eyes, I am surrounded by servants, and the nightmare procedure of getting ready for Court begins. I am not going to get into details here, except to say it involves three hours of spa treatments and scrubbing and hair drying, followed by the putting on of the dress, while Gracie gets a similar though less intensive treatment, and a lovely dark blue dress of her own, threaded with gossamer webs of gold, at the sight of which she practically screams.
I am told that my friends have been given guest apartments in the Palace for the afternoon and overnight, and they are all resting and getting acclimated in their own comfortable rooms—at which I am much relieved.
Consul Denu arrives, preceded by his aura of fine perfume. With him is his loyal attendant Kem, a slim, dark haired boy possibly a little older than Gracie, and two additional servants. They carry the usual boxes of Face Paints, Scents, and other cosmetics and accessories.
While the Consul observes and directs, with insightful comments and a finely manicured finger, Kem sets up shop and starts doing my hair, and then Gracie’s.
When he is done, my hair is an elaborate, perfect High Court fashion construct of museum-quality symmetry. I don’t even know how to describe it except it’s a formal updo with many fine gold threads and garlands that cascade around me and reach below the shoulders, creating a curtain of gold mesh through which the line of my neck looks surprisingly elegant.
Next comes the makeup, this time a deeply dark and dramatic look in rich reds and black kohl. My lips are covered with a cherry gloss reminiscent of the Red Dance, and my eyes are fierce in black outline.
At some point when the makeup is nearly done, Aeson returns. “May I come in?” he says softly at the doors of my bedroom, and then I turn slightly to see him, and oh wow. . . .
Aeson is dressed in deep crimson red, a matching color to my own outfit. The velvet fabric of his jacket and pants is embroidered with gold thread, and over it he wears a wide, heavy gold wesekh collar reminiscent of Ancient Egypt.
Aeson’s hair is brushed back, and on his forehead, suspended on a fine chain, rests an emblem of Imperial power, a small coiled serpent, the Lesser Uraeus, which is the Atlantean symbol of Secondary Imperial Power, that of the Imperial Crown Prince. Unlike the full Uraeus—a rising cobra serpent unfurled and ready to strike—which only the Imperator himself may wear, the Lesser Uraeus portrays the serpent at rest, curled up in a circular spiral.
“Oh, you look amazing!” I say, unable to hold back an exclamation.
He merely smiles at me—I get the feeling he finds secret satisfaction in my stunned appraisal of him, physically—and his gaze seems to be consuming me in turn.
Consul Denu rises from his seat and gives a formal bow to the Prince, followed by Kem and all the servants. Gracie, sitting in a chair next to me and also being worked on, attempts to get up and salute, but Aeson raises his hand to make her stop.
“Please, proceed,” he says, and Kem and the servants return to their work.
Aeson stands watching as the finishing touches are being applied to my face.
Moments later, Kem gives me a light bow, and steps back to indicate he is done.
“Gwen . . . you are beyond beautiful,” Aeson says, nearing me.
I glance up into his intense eyes . . . and time seems to elongate, while my pulse races wildly.
“I have something for you,” he says after a long moment when he is finally able to tear his gaze from mine.
“What?”
Aeson opens his hand and shows me a choker necklace of gold with a great pendant of the deepest violet hue in a filigree setting. “From the Archaeona Imperatris, my Mother. It is her Bridal Gift to you. She also was given it when she was a Bride, by the previous Imperatris, my late Grandmother. It is to be passed on in perpetuity.”
My Bridegroom moves even closer, standing behind me, and places the necklace around my throat, so that it rests high against my collarbone, demurely far from my cleavage. The places where his warm fingers touch my skin resound in sensual shock.
I feel the cool weight of the metal, like a brand of power against my neck . . . see myself reflected in a nearby floor-length mirror. “Oh, this is amazing . . . please give your Mother my deepest thanks!”
“And—perfect! You are ready to make an impact at Court, my dear,” says Consul Denu, observing me from his place with satisfaction.
I stand up.
In the mirror, a fabulous queen rises from her seat, next to her young, beautiful future king.
“Ready?” Aeson says, looking into my eyes. The coiled serpent resting on his forehead gleams gold, like a third eye.
I nod.
A few steps away, my sister Gracie, dressed in deep blue elegance that also transforms her into a princess, makes a tiny whimper.
Together we all go to the Imperial Court Assembly.
At the formal main entrance to the Imperial Crown Prince’s Quarters, the six security guards fall in line after Aeson and me, as we walk side-by-side down the corridor and take the elevator to descend into the intricate network of the Palace below. Gracie and Gordie walk immediately after, Gracie nervous and serious and beautiful, appearing so much older with her hair severely pulled up in a sculptured updo, in her deep blue dress, and Gordie looking as I’ve never seen him before, dressed in an impressive brown and green jacket and pants outfit, with gold trim—even his glasses are perfectly clean! Finally, Consul Denu brings up the rear, moving like a bejeweled swan of pomp and splendor in his sage-and-coral floor-length robe and wearing a splendid golden wig that towers a foot over him.
We move through various corridors and chambers of the Palace, past servants and other Atlantean high nobility who all acknowledge the Crown Prince and me with proper bows. Eventually we arrive in the grand ante-chamber before the Pharikoneon, which is already filled with fabulously dressed crowds of courtie
rs. Imperial guards with floor-length staffs stand in a row before the Pharikoneon Gates, preventing admittance before the proper time.
Here, Aeson and I pause, while it seems everyone in the room starts turning to look at us, and waves of conversation fluctuate. Fortunately, only a few steps away, we see familiar faces from the Fleet.
Oalla Keigeri, in a long pale dress of liquid blue waters—or so it appears to be, because of a shimmering fabric train that flows behind her in silken waves—stands together with her father whom I recall from the media network broadcast, and Keruvat Ruo. Keruvat wears a night-blue jacket and pants with metallic trim, while Desher Keigeri is in a rich black robe trimmed with coral and clay red.
Seeing us, Oalla steps forward, graceful and confident. She smiles then inclines her head in a perfect courtly bow. “My Imperial Lord and My Imperial Lady,” she says, without any surprise. “It is a pleasure to see you both—together at last.”
I look at her, terribly nervous already, and it’s only my first formal interaction with someone I know. “A pleasure to see you, Oalla,” I say in a breathless voice, using the proper Atlantean Court greeting, and momentarily doubting myself if I should have said “Lady Oalla” or “Pilot Oalla,” or something else. “You are—not surprised?”
But Oalla only gives me a mischievous look, while Keruvat Ruo approaches, also bowing, and says, “Surprised, My Imperial Lady Gwen? Far from it. This week I’ve lost quite a wager to her, all thanks to you.”
“What was the wager?” Aeson asks with a shadow of a smile.
“Apparently the wager was whether the Imperial Crown Prince would choose duty or love.”
I start slightly at the familiar voice and turn to the side, because the speaker is at my flank. . . .
Xelio Vekahat stands before us, having come up through the crowd. He is dressed entirely in black with the faintest web-work of gold running through the fabric of his jacket—black to match his raven head with its long, midnight-black hair, falling behind him, so dark it gleams with a bluish tint in the bright lights of the ante-chamber. The red armband on his sleeve adds a vibrant angry hue to his darkness. His serious black eyes focus on me alone as he bows to both of us. And then comes the slow sensuous smile. “My Imperial Lady Gwen Lark is astonishingly beautiful tonight.”
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