What would Oliver think if he found out what his father had just done? Conall couldn’t stand the thought of him scrunching up his nose and saying, “Eww, gross!” at the idea of his father kissing another man. He was too young to understand. With all of the changes that’d been happening the past few months, it was the last thing Oliver needed.
It didn’t matter that Conall wanted to continue what he and Brogan had started earlier that night. It didn’t matter that he craved being around him, and the touch of his skin. All that mattered was Oliver.
Now, he had to figure out how to remove the memory of Brogan’s touch from his mind. Maybe the Arathians had some piece of technology that could help?
CHAPTER 11
Onalee was feeling quite accomplished as she exited Oliver’s classroom. Since she’d brought him the 3-D device, he’d been grasping his lessons more and more easily. In fact, he was nearly caught up to the rest of his class in physics and astronomy. They still had work to do in galactic history and mathematics, but Oliver was a smart boy. She had no doubt that with a little more time, he’d be ahead of his peers.
She was proud of his accomplishments; probably more so than was her right. After all, he wasn’t hers.
Not ready to go home just yet, Onalee wandered into the kitchen, where she assumed Clare would be working on dinner. She was right. The older female was at the counter, humming, and cutting up vegetables.
“Evening, Clare,” Onalee greeted. The woman jumped in surprise.
“Oh! Onalee, you gave me a fright. I wasn’t expecting anyone else.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Onalee apologized as she came closer.
Clare put a hand to her chest over her racing heart. “That’s quite alright. Did you need something, or are you here to help?”
“I can help,” Onalee eagerly volunteered.
She set her bag down, grabbed her usual apron—her apron, that Clare had set aside especially for her—and hurried to the other woman’s side. “What can I do?”
“You can help me with the potatoes.” Clare handed her a small metal device. “Use this peeler to cut off the skin so that I can boil them.”
Onalee picked up one of the potatoes and turned it over in her hand. It didn’t look appetizing. It looked like a lumpy brown rock.
“Did you bring these from Earth?” she asked. She’d never seen anything like it.
Clare nodded. “Oh, aye, but I plan to plant some in my garden here, once I get it going.”
“And… they’re for eating?” Onalee asked skeptically.
Clare laughed. “I know they don’t look like much, but they’re quite tasty, especially the way I make them.”
It only took Onalee a couple of fumbles before she got the hang of it. The two got into a rhythm of Onalee peeling, and Clare chopping the potatoes into pieces before they went into a pot of water.
“Where did you learn how to cook?” Onalee asked.
“My Mum and Gran taught me.” Clare glanced at her. “Did no one ever work with you in the kitchen?”
Onalee shook her head. “No. We had staff who cooked for us, and I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. I’m not sure my mother even knew how; I never saw her make anything.”
Her tone wasn’t sad, it was just factual. She peeled another couple of potatoes before continuing.
“After my parents died, I never had the urge to learn—not until now,” she amended herself. “Now it’s different.”
Clare nodded in understanding. “Aye, it’s different if your family is relying on you to feed them. But I find that I enjoy cooking. I like that it’s something that brings everyone together, and that they appreciate what I make.”
“I envy your ability to do that,” Onalee told her honestly.
“You can still learn how to cook,” Clare argued, before she understood what Onalee’d actually meant. “You know, there are other ways to bond with your brother.”
Onalee shrugged. “I’m just envious of how you’re the matriarch of this household, and always have everything so under control.”
“Are you saying I’m a control freak?”
“No! Not at all,” Onalee answered with wide eyes.
“It’s alright, dearie. I was just teasing you,” Clare told her lightheartedly. “I think I know what you’re talking about, but you know, you could be like this too.”
Onalee scoffed.
Swiftly, Clare took the peeler and potato from her hands, and turned her to the side in order to look her in the eye.
“Lass, you’re no’ a child any longer: you’re an adult who has the right to run her own life. You don’t have to bow-down to anyone.”
Onalee shook her head. “But, my brother…”
Clare interrupted her.
“Onalee, you were not put on this planet for others to rule over. You have the right to expect the people in your life to stand by your side as equals—no’ to block you from experiences, or to dictate to you.” Clare patted her hand and turned back towards the counter top. “It’s only my opinion, but it sounds like your brother needs to get a life of his own, and let you start living yours.”
Onalee’s hands went back to peeling, but her mind kept twirling Clare’s words around. Forkan did dictate her life. Her mind was still thinking about their conversation minutes later, when they were done prepping for dinner. Clare enveloped her in a hug, then ushered her out of the kitchen.
Onalee hung her apron, picked up her bag, and headed towards the front door. She didn’t get far.
In the hallway, she heard a bang come from the far end of the hall, towards the garage and replicator room. She veered that direction, and soon found Conall struggling to carry a heavy piece of furniture. It was a table that had a solid flat surface, clearly made of some sort of rock.
“Let me help you carry that,” she offered as she neared.
“No, it’s okay,” Conall grunted with the effort.
He walked the table a few more feet down the hall, then nodded to the back door that led out to the garden.
“Could you grab the door though?”
“Of course!”
Onalee slipped past him and placed her hand on the console to open the large doors.
“How far do you have to go?” she asked.
He carried the table past her, heading outside, and replied, “Not far.”
That’s when she noticed that the landscapers had finished work on the gardens just outside the house. They had laid large decorative slabs of slate that interlocked to create a solid floor, then placed foliage in artful arrangements to break up the space.
Conall headed for a nearby sitting area, which already had two large loungers and several chairs with thick outdoor cushions. She scurried to push one of the chairs out of the way before Conall tripped over the piece of furniture.
“Thanks,” he muttered, then set the heavy table down with a low groan. He stood and arched his back before shaking out his arms.
“You know, Arathians invented hover platforms for a reason,” she teased him. “I’m sure there are one or two lying around the house.”
Conall chuckled. “Aye, there are. But I couldn’t find any of the bloody things, and I wanted to get this done before Mum saw.”
Onalee smiled at his thoughtfulness, and a little at his stubbornness.
“Well, I’m sure she’ll appreciate the effort. You’ve done an amazing job out here. You have such a beautiful home.”
Conall’s expression shut down, as if he were suddenly uncomfortable. His spine stiffened, hands clenched slightly, and his eyes roamed over the outdoor area. He was clearly displeased.
Onalee’s smile faltered. The last thing she wanted to do was insult him.
“Have I said something to upset you? I apologize if I did. It was not my intent,” she told him earnestly, slipping into the facade of formality she used like a cloak.
Conall’s scowled. “You didn’t upset me. Why would you think you had?”
“Bec
ause, after what I said, you suddenly looked angry,” she replied quietly.
He sighed before stepping closer to her. Onalee’s heart began beating fast with excitement as he neared. When he was close enough, Conall raised his hand as if he were going to caress her cheek. But before his hand could cross the distance, he gave a slight shake of his head, and let his hand drop.
Onalee’s heart dropped with it.
“I don’t want to trouble you with my problems,” Conall told her softly, before clearing his throat and speaking in a normal tone. “How did Oliver’s lessons go today?”
Onalee recognized the diversion for what it was, and was determined to not let him get away with it. She wanted him to open up to her. He needed to unburden himself, and she was happy to help him shoulder whatever it was that was bothering him.
“He did great, as always. He’s an intelligent boy, but not who we need to discuss right now. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
Conall sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Are you sure you want to talk about it?”
She nodded. This was exactly what she wanted: for Conall to open up to her. For him to trust her enough to talk.
His eyes darted uneasily from the house to the gardens before he suggested, “Let’s go for a walk.”
They headed out, side by side, away from the house and towards the forest that lay beyond the gardens. Onalee followed silently at Conall’s side, happy to let him have a moment to gather his thoughts.
Once they were under the shelter of branches, his posture became more at ease. A few minutes later, they were walking along the edge of a small stream. The same one that fed into the royals’ lake.
“I’ve been frustrated lately,” Conall told her suddenly, interrupting the silence. He gestured back the way they’d come. “I can’t take credit for any of that. The house, inside and out, was designed and furnished by Ashlyn, Reus, and my mother. It’s their house; I’m just taking up rooms.”
Onalee’s brows creased, but she kept her eyes on the uneven terrain as they continued to walk.
“I’m sure you’re doing more than just taking up space,” she insisted.
Conall shook his head. “Not really.”
“Why do you say that?”
He stopped and gazed out over the water. Onalee watched his face as he visibly struggled with his thoughts. Or maybe, he struggled with what to tell her. Either way, the conflict inside of him spoke to her. She wanted to make it better, whatever it was.
Instead of gathering him into her arms like she longed to do, she reached to take his palm with her own. His surprised eyes swung to her.
“You can tell me,” she encouraged him, gliding her thumb over his knuckles.
Conall nodded, but it was still another moment before he found his voice.
“Onalee, I don’t fit on this planet. My profession is useless here, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to learn enough to acclimate. Hell, I couldn’t even live on my own if I were forced to.”
He motioned to the surrounding land. “This isn’t mine. Karo and Aevum gave our family the land and money to build the house. They say it’s ours, but I don’t feel like it is. I’m used to contributing, and right now, I feel useless.”
Onalee stayed silent as she pondered his words, but he mistook her contemplation for something else. He pulled away and ran his hands over his face.
“I know it sounds stupid.”
She closed the couple of feet between them.
“It’s not stupid. I understand how you feel,” she told him in a soft voice.
He scoffed, but she wasn’t going to let him dismiss her claim.
“I understand better than you think,” she insisted.
He looked skeptical. “How’s that possible?”
Onalee took a deep breath to center herself, because she knew that what she was about to tell Conall was something that she’d barely admitted to herself, let alone someone else.
She was about to make excuses and leave, but when her eyes met his, something in the depth of his blue irises had her opening up to him.
“I live in a grand home where I have everything provided for me, but I do nothing to contribute. I don’t work.” Onalee paused before correcting herself. “That’s not the whole truth. I want to work, but Forkan doesn’t allow it. He’s never seen me as an equal.”
That last part she was just beginning to realize.
Conall’s brows creased in question. “What do you mean he doesn’t allow it?”
When she hesitated, he grasped her palm in comfort, just as she had done to him. It gave her strength to continue.
“He’s always told me that my presence at home is essential for his wellbeing, but lately I’ve had a hard time believing him. I don’t feel essential. I feel like my life is arranged for me. I feel like an accessory that Forkan parades around when it’s beneficial to him.”
Onalee gasped at the sound of her words. She covered her mouth in surprise, and scanned the area with wide eyes, suddenly frightened that someone had overheard her. She’d never spoken ill of Forkan. Never. Not to anyone.
“I don’t know why I said that. Please don’t repeat my words,” she begged Conall in a quiet voice.
Conall came closer, placing himself right in front of her, nearly toe to toe. If she were to lean forward, she could rest her forehead on his shoulder. The temptation was nearly too much to bear. As it was, she could smell his woodsy scent on the breeze.
“Onalee, you can tell me anything, and I’ll never repeat it,” he told her in a low voice.
She held his gaze and saw nothing but sincerity. “Thank you. You’re a rare man, Conall.”
He smiled at her compliment. “On this planet, I believe that.”
She smiled at his joke, and the mood between them lightened. Also lightened was a weight in her chest that she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. Sharing her feelings, her worries, had been good. She needed more of this: more friendship; more people she could open up to, and more of this male in particular. Well… this male, and one other.
She wanted to stay right where she was, holding Conall’s hand, breathing in his scent, and talking to him, but the small comm unit on her wrist beeped with an incoming transmission.
“Onalee Cormikan,” she answered pleasantly.
“It’s Forkan. I’ll be home in an hour. I need to speak with you in my office about the coronation and after parties.”
Her stomach dropped. She didn’t want to go home yet. She wanted to stay there with Conall, in the seclusion of the trees, and looking into his blue eyes. But she understood that the coronation was important, and even though she didn’t want to let him dictate to her, old habits were hard to break.
“Alright. I’ll be there. Safe travels,” she replied into her comm device.
The communication went dead and she lowered her wrist, grateful that Forkan hadn’t asked her any questions, nor could he see who she was with. She didn’t want to have to explain herself to him. She would, however, be there when he got home.
The coronation was an important event, not only for the royals, but for the entire planet. She wasn’t surprised that Forkan wanted them to be on the same page before the festivities began.
“I must go,” she regretfully told Conall.
He nodded. “I’ll walk you out.”
Much to Onalee’s delight, Conall and she walked hand in hand all the way to her transport. After she’d taken her seat, he leaned a forearm on the hood in a casual pose.
Her eyes were drawn to the way his shirt was pulled tight across his chest. His voice brought her attention back to his face.
“When will we see you again?” he asked.
She smiled broadly at the thought that he wanted to see her. “I’m not sure. Are you going to the coronation tomorrow?”
He shook his head, and her heart fell a little.
“What about the weekend onboard the Lurizian ship? Will you be attending?” she asked hopefully.
She’d been looking forward to the after party for months! The Lurizians were known for their decadent parties, and had brought their most lavish ship to Arath to celebrate the royal coronation.
Conall nodded. “Aye, I think so. Karo passed on an invitation to our whole family a couple of days ago, but I’m not sure who will be going. Will you be there?”
Onalee nodded. “I will. And I hope very much that you’ll come.”
She gave him a sincere smile that he returned, before he stood straight and allowed the door to close. She initiated the transport and began the ride home.
*****
Brogan was on high alert. Today was the royal coronation, where Lukas, Jayda, and Deian would officially become the ruling monarchs of Arath.
He’d been simultaneously dreading, and preparing for this day the past few months. It was several hours of tradition and festivities, but to the Royal Guard, it was a logistical nightmare.
First came the flying parade through Talavera, which allowed the royal transports to be targeted from all angles. Brogan didn’t care that the transports were “weapon-proof”—it was the most vulnerable the family would be the entire day.
Thankfully, the Arathian Defense had joined forces with the Guards to help protect the royals. There were fighter ships escorting the procession, with dozens more stationed along the parade route. Higher in altitude were large Battlecruisers, ready to assist if necessary.
Once the royals entered the Capitol Building, where Brogan’s team was stationed, the dangers drastically decreased.
Everyone participating in, or watching the ceremony from inside had already been pre-screened, and there were sensors monitoring the genetic code of everyone inside. They would alert the Guards to anyone not on the approved list. That didn’t mean that the venue wasn’t susceptible to attack; a person didn’t have to be inside a building to attack it.
Several Guard units in their full gear were stationed inside and outside, but Brogan’s team were covert. They were dressed to blend in, and would mingle, looking for anything suspicious amongst the crowd. Linked through constant comms, they would all know if something went down.
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