by Lou Aronica
“We’ll make it very cozy for him. No more than forty-five or fifty people in attendance at the reception. We’ll make it a quiet event.”
“I’m sure that will completely ease his mind. He was thinking that if he ever showed up, you might make a big deal about it.”
Her father chuckled. “Your sarcasm isn’t going to deter me here. I need to look this young man in the eye. I need to know that he’s worthy of my only child.”
“Right, Dad, you don’t know anything about him,” Miea said, continuing with the sarcasm anyway. “I’m sure you haven’t gotten a report from my bodyguards after every date Dyson and I have ever gone on. How many generations back did you go on the profile of his family, three or four?”
He looked back at her sheepishly. “I’ve done no such thing.”
Miea leaned toward the screen. “You do realize I can see your face, right?”
Her father cast his eyes downward. “I only went back to his grandparents. It appears they’re relatively clean. Did he tell you that one of his great uncles was once cited for picking a flower during the Rainbow Fair?”
“Yes, Dad, Dyson confessed this to me tearfully just a few nights ago,” she said with a smirk. “It’s his family’s greatest shame.”
Her father pointed a finger at her. “You’re not usually this wry with me, Miea,” he said, smiling. “I’m not sure I like what this relationship with Dyson portends.”
“Dyson is not having a bad influence on me, Dad, don’t worry.”
“But he is having an influence on you.”
“Well ... sure.” She couldn’t keep the grin off her face when she said this, and of course her father picked up on it.
“Maybe I need to make a complete overhaul to your security detail,” he said. “Your guards have already let this man abscond with your heart.”
Miea laughed boisterously. “That’s a terrible pun, Dad.”
“You’ll have to excuse me for that. I’m not accustomed to seeing my daughter smitten.”
Miea felt her face warming. “I think we might be better off talking about the Thorns.”
Her father scoffed. “The Thorns I can handle. This Dyson, however, might be too formidable a foe.”
Miea saw an off-screen hand lightly touch her father’s shoulder. He turned, exchanged a few words, and then looked back at her. “I’m needed back in the conference room. It’s amazing how much work goes into a little car trip.”
“I’ll talk to you again before you leave, right?”
“Yes, of course. Until again, my dear.”
“Until again, Dad.”
A moment later the screen softened to indigo. Miea knew she needed to get to class. For some reason, though, she couldn’t stop staring at it.
3
“The motorcade will proceed in an optimal security manner, with the king and queen in the third car among the five, and a team of guards flanking them from both sides.”
Dad had been describing the details of the trip to Gunnthorn for something like half an hour now. He really got into the little points, something Becky was always happy to have him take care of when they were telling Tamarisk stories. Becky loved imagining stuff, especially when it was time to make up new animals, but Dad was just crazy about the details.
It was pretty funny that he was so into these details when he absolutely refused to give her even a single detail about what was happening in real life. She sometimes wondered if Dad realized that she was ten now, because with some things he treated her like she was still five. It was always that way when she asked him something like why he was angry with Mom or why he came home from work looking so tired. He’d never give her a real answer, just something about his needing some ice cream or a hug.
Now, though, it wasn’t just a little argument that Becky was concerned about. Something serious was going on. Becky often got the sense that Dad and Mom weren’t crazy about each other, but these days they looked like they wanted to kill each other. Didn’t exactly make home a fun place. Mom was at least willing to admit that things were a little tense. She did that thing where she said, “Your father,” like she was saying, “Your ogre” instead. Dad, though, didn’t do anything like this. He would just talk about “rough patches” and the need to “shake it off.” He talked like a bad TV show.
She looked up at him now. He was so into the story. Becky wasn’t listening to what he was saying, but she could tell from his expressions that he was on a roll. He was probably describing how each car in the royal motorcade was going to look and how each member of the guard would dress. It was kind of ridiculous for a grown man to be as into this as he was, right?
Becky felt bad about that thought as soon as she had it. She’d always felt lucky that her dad was willing to do this with her, especially since he’d suggested it years ago as a way to make her feel better. Becky had been really sick when she was five, and Dad had come up with the idea of telling stories to get her mind off of how tough things were back then. They came up with Tamarisk together, and neither wanted to stop telling the stories after Becky got better. One of the best things about Becky’s remission, right up there with no more chemotherapy, was that Tamarisk got to keep going. It wasn’t only a get-well-soon kind of thing.
And as much as she rolled her eyes over Dad’s going into crazy detail, she had to admit that she’d taken this thing pretty far herself. Her eyes flashed over to the journal on her bookshelf that she’d filled with drawings of Tamariskian flowers and creatures. She’d dedicated a whole section of the book to the names for things in Tamarisk, and she’d developed an official naming system just in the past year. She’d even started a diary which she kept under lock and key where she wrote entries about Miea’s romance with Dyson. She’d put some of that stuff into the stories she told with her dad, but some of it remained her secret ... and Miea’s.
At some point, she realized Dad wasn’t speaking anymore. She looked up and saw him staring back at her. How long had he been doing so?
“What?” she said.
He gave her an understanding smile. “You in there?”
“Yeah,” she said, a little annoyed. “What’s up?”
“The story is back to you.”
“It is?”
“This is where you were going to put that thing about the queen briefing her staff.”
“Hmm.”
“Yeah, I just set it up for you.”
Becky would have known this, of course, if she’d been paying attention to what he’d been saying. She sat up a little taller and tried to think about what she’d been planning for this briefing. She’d thought about it a lot as she was falling asleep last night and then again when she got home from school this afternoon.
She thought about this a little more and then started. “The queen gathered her staff together in her office. She didn’t call everyone in her office at once very often, so some people were nervous about this.
“’I’m going to be going on a trip that will take me away from Tamarisk City for three days,’ she said -”
“They just decided in the last scene that the trip is going to last four days,” Dad said, interrupting.
Becky nodded. “’I’m going to be on a trip that will take me away from Tamarisk City for four days. While I’m away Adian will be in charge of running my office – ’”
“I just mentioned in the last scene that Adian was going to be coming on the trip. It seemed important to have her there since they were going to be meeting with so many local officials. Since you didn’t object, I figured you were okay with that.”
Becky sighed and thought quickly about where to go with things. ’"Since Adian will be with me, I’m going to ask each of you to take responsibility for your work over the next few days. Fortunately, it should be a quiet time -”
“There’s the thing about preparations for Jonrae’s five-hundredth anniversary. That group is coming -”
“I thought I was telling the story now.” Becky threw an angry look at her
father. This seemed to hurt his feelings.
“But you always tell me it’s important to be consistent,” he said. “I’m just making sure. Hey, babe, is everything all right? You seem really distracted.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t be distracted if you told me what was going on around here!”
Dad looked like she’d slapped him. “Babe, everything is going to be okay.”
“That’s what you keep saying, but.... Look, I think I just want to cut things short tonight, okay?”
Dad shifted his body to face her more directly. “Yeah, sure, if that’s what you want. How do you want to end it? Do you want to do something fast with the queen and her staff?”
“No, let’s just wipe that story. Go back to where you were. Where were you?”
“The king had just stopped speaking with Miea. They’d just said, ’Until again.’”
Becky pictured the king and Miea speaking while she was away at college. The king and Miea talked. Really talked.
“Yeah, until again. That’s a good way to end it.” Becky moved quickly to get under her sheets instead of hanging back with her dad for a minute after they were finished. He got off the bed and came around to kiss her on the forehead.
“You sure you’re okay, babe?” he said.
When did I say I was okay, Dad? “We can talk about this if you want,” Becky said, surprised by the sharpness in her voice. “But only if you’re willing to let me know what’s happening.”
“Babe ...” Dad placed a hand on top of her head, and for a second she thought he was going to sit on the edge of the bed and get into it with her.
Instead, he kissed her on the forehead again.
“You’ve got school tomorrow,” he said before turning to go.
4
Plenium considered his wife an extraordinary ruler, perhaps one of the greatest monarchs in Tamarisk’s long history. However, her skills at statecraft would always come second to her unparalleled talent at rubbing backs.
“The tiniest bit to the left,” Plenium said as Folium kneaded the spot just below his right shoulder blade. The queen preferred foot rubs herself, and Plenium had already complied. It had been a long day of planning for the upcoming diplomatic mission, added to an always-full schedule of meeting with dignitaries, addressing minor problems, speaking with governors and heads of state, and aiding the concerns of Tamarisk’s scientists, farmers, artists, and merchants. Plenium was ever thankful that he had his wife by his side, and back rubs were only the tiniest of reasons. He had no idea how anyone ruled a kingdom like Tamarisk alone and hoped he never had to find out.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you that I heard from Lanchier while you were on the call with Pinzon,” Plenium said as his wife massaged the tension from his upper back. “The soldier is going to live. He suffered some internal damage, but doctors were able to get to him in time.”
Folium eased the pressure under his shoulder blade. “Thank goodness. I’m not sure how easy it would have been for me to be diplomatic with the despots if that soldier had died.”
“You might even have called them ’despots’ to their faces. You know, of course, that I think you run a horrible risk of making that mistake if you keep referring to them as such in private.”
Folium grumbled. “I’m not sure how much worse things would be if I did.”
Sadly, the queen had a point. Relations between Gunnthorn and Tamarisk had been uneasy for so long, no one could remember precisely how the troubles began. Some pointed to border disputes more than two centuries ago that led to the most extensive exchange of fire ever between the two nations, ultimately causing maps to be redrawn in Tamarisk’s favor. Others said the origin of the dispute dated centuries earlier to an ill-fated romance that nearly united the kingdoms. What was certain was that conditions had never been good in Plenium’s lifetime, and the last half year had seen escalated skirmishes and violence, even as – or perhaps because of- the prime minister of Gunnthorn seemed to indicate he’d be open to a thaw between the kingdoms.
Just this morning a Tamariskian soldier had been felled by an explosion caused by sabotage. That this took place more than twenty miles into Tamarisk territory led some to believe the attack was an internal one, but it soon became clear that the sabotage had the signature of the Thorns. It was the twelfth such incident in the last three weeks.
Plenium arched his shoulders to stretch, and Folium ended her back rub and moved to sit next to him, keeping a distance of about a foot and a half between them. There was a time when Folium would have finished her massage by nestling with him, with Plenium wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. Those were days past, though. Since the Great Blight, touching had become a courtesy they offered each other, a sign of their considerable mutual respect.
“I truly believed that once we set up this trip they’d at least cease their aggression until they met with us,” Plenium said.
“You’re operating under the assumption that Thorn leadership can rein in all the agents they have out there,” Folium said sharply. “They’ve so effectively indoctrinated these people with hatred for Tamarisk over the decades that they couldn’t stop them from committing acts of sabotage even if they wanted to – even if they threatened them with punishment. You can call the prime minister a reformer all you like. You know as well as I do that he would never jail any of his citizens for any action taken against us.”
Plenium turned toward his wife, moving their legs a few inches closer together. He patted her arm for a moment. “I’m afraid you might very well be right,” he said, shaking his head with a touch of resignation. “If that’s the case, then, how do we deal with them going into the future? Even if our mission is a success, will our citizens be any less at risk?”
The queen took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “We can’t continue at this level, and as you know, Plenium, I’m not entirely convinced that this mission can accomplish what it needs to accomplish. Yet if we fail at diplomacy, we’re left with only one choice.”
It was a choice none of Plenium’s immediate predecessors had had to make. Tamarisk had not engaged in an all-out war in five generations, and even then the battle had lasted less than a week. Gunnthorn had been to war as recently as three years ago, and their military seemed to be in a constant state of preparation for battle. Some of Plenium’s advisors suggested that the Thorns engaged in short-term battles to keep their warriors sharp. There wasn’t a single person in the entire Tamarisk military who had experience in armed conflict. The king believed that his soldiers had the skill and temerity to defend Tamarisk – but did he really want to find out?
Plenium had underplayed the notion of war earlier in the day when speaking with Miea. He wanted his daughter concerning herself with her studies and the attentions of her boyfriend, not matters as grave as this. This wasn’t her time for such concerns. That time would come soon enough, no matter how Plenium strove to forestall it.
It would have been foolish, however, to take such an approach with Folium – or with himself.
“I shudder at the thought, my queen,” he said, turning again so that his knee nearly touched his wife’s outer thigh.
Her expression grew grimmer, and she locked eyes with Plenium for a moment before rising and moving toward the window. “We can withstand this if necessary. All of Tamarisk can. We’ve withstood worse.”
The Great Blight. It had been the greatest challenge Plenium faced as king, the greatest challenge anyone in Tamarisk had faced in a century. Vegetation dying on a massive scale with little indication of a cause or a cure. It had come close to bringing Tamarisk to its knees before its stunning reversal. It had also exposed tensions and differences in values between the king and queen neither had been aware of. They’d rarely spoken of it since, and the scars had covered over in time.
“We withstood the Blight,” Plenium said. “I’m not convinced, though, that blight would be worse than war.”
Folium turned back from the window. “Let’s hope we never f
ind out. We need to make sure our diplomacy is enough.”
5
The bridge connected the towns of Moorewood and Standridge the same way it connected “what was” in Chris’s life and “what would be.”
Chris had taken the day off work to pack belongings from his Moorewood home and bring them to his new Standridge apartment. He’d taken delivery of some furniture this morning, so the apartment no longer resembled an empty warehouse. Instead, it now looked like a residence hotel. He would do everything he could to make it look like a real home soon: posters on the wall, newspapers on the coffee table, jackets over chairs, dishes in the sink. He figured he had at least two weeks where he could justify being a slob to make his place look lived in before he’d have to start picking up after himself.
Other than a bookshelf and the table holding her new laptop, Becky’s room was still empty. Becky had been lobbying for her own computer for months, and Chris decided she would have one when she stayed with him. The thought crossed his mind that this was the kind of elaborate spending fathers did when they tried to buy their children’s affection after a divorce, but he convinced himself that this wasn’t the case here. If anything, it would make up for her having to sleep on the pullout couch until Polly decided to bequeath him Becky’s old furniture. He’d tried to press his soon-to-be ex for a delivery date last night after he put Becky to bed. The conversation quickly descended into thinly veiled accusations and allegations, as nearly every conversation between them did these days. Chris still had no idea when Polly was going to buy Becky a new bedroom set.
Chris crossed back into Moorewood and was back at the house a little before 3:00. Thankfully Polly was gone for the day, having some engagement that was going to keep her out until after dinner. It was entirely possible she’d told him what the engagement was, but if so, Chris had quickly dismissed it. He didn’t feel the need to keep anything Polly told him in his head any longer. The last thing that had registered with any level of permanence was, “I want you to move out.”
