The muscles in my legs stiffened. I had understood from the moment I had decided to take the drastic measure of cutting off my hair that the other Elders would see the results of my choice, and that I would likely be met with an exponential amount of objection, but I had not expected to reveal myself to them so soon. No matter how many of my perceptions and determinations I had expunged from myself, over a century’s-worth of personality could not be released in the brief course of three days, and I felt the familiar concern for the impression I would make amongst the Council. Zuran’s gaze bore into me from his position against the wall. The burden of our twinhood pressed upon me, and I could practically feel the tendrils of his mind misting through my temples and prying into my thoughts.
“You are wavering, brother,” he noted.
There was a comical note in his tone as always, a hint of undying amusement, but his voice had deepened with grim discontent. I squinted at him.
“Excuse me?”
“Your reluctance is scrawled across your face,” he said, pushing himself off of the wall and straightening. “You still revere the Elders and fear their condemnation, do you not? A simple haircut has not changed you as much as you may have hoped.”
I scratched my nails through the short fringe atop my scalp. “You know as well as I what cutting my hair means. It is no small feat, nor is it without its symbolism.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, “but the symbolism can only relieve you of your woes so much before the responsibility falls to you to finish it.”
My instinct was to argue defensively, yet I could not deny the legitimacy in what he asserted. With a sigh, I nodded and admitted, “Yes, I am still preoccupied with obtaining the esteem of the Council, but what I have done cannot be undone, and I do not regret it. Furthermore, I am startlingly proud to tell you a part of me, no matter how small, fails to care just what might be said about me or my hair.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Zuran said with a nod and a smile.
“When did you receive word of the summons?” I asked, changing the topic only slightly to the more pressing matter.
“Just before my arrival, actually,” he said, “and you are to report to P’otes-tat Ulti at once for an impromptu Forum.”
Again, my muscles stiffened, but I squared my jaw and nodded my understanding. “Thank you for informing me,” I expressed. I spoke like I was speaking to another Elder rather than my own brother, courteous and proper, but I was already shifting into the somber state of mind required of the Council.
Instead of making another joke or continuing a casual conversation, Zuran simply inclined his head. I moved toward the door, about to step out into the world for the first time since shedding my past, but I turned back at the last minute.
“Were you told a purpose for this Forum, perchance?” I inquired, restrained hopefulness in my voice. I could not help but expect they had somehow already acquired knowledge of my rebellious gesture and wished to discipline me for my actions, but I wanted to know if I was just experiencing heightened levels of paranoia after my stretch of confinement.
Zuran’s constant grin faltered, and I saw gravity drop behind his eyes. “No,” he answered. “Rumor has it, however, that the Novain captain has descended to Albaterra and walks amidst our ranks.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Octavia
I hadn’t heard from Venan in three days. I hadn’t seen him either, but that wasn’t so unusual because I’d never seen him in the colony, especially since he’d become an Elder. As he was the Interplanetary Affairs Officer, I saw Zuran around a few times, and I’d felt my heart skip a beat when I saw him because he looked so much like Venan, but I never got a chance to talk to him about his brother. I was starting to get worried.
It was the first time I’d ever felt unsettled by a haircut, and that counted the time back in cosmetology school when I’d forgotten to bleach a brunette before putting on the blonde dye, and she ended up looking like Ronald McDonald.
Finally, since meeting him, I wasn’t obsessing over his interest in me (or potential lack thereof), but I was still just as bothered. It wasn’t the haircut exactly that bothered me so much as Venan’s attitude. He’d seemed so…broken. And angry. He was so angry. What made it harder for me to swallow was that his anger wasn’t explosive and furious. He hadn’t thrown things around, shouted or stomped and stormed. The anger had been from within, deep and boiling and searing, but it had been palpable enough that I’d felt it in my own bones. That kind of rage was scarier than the obvious kind. That was the kind of rage that led to horrible accidents and regretful decisions far worse than a simple haircut.
I wanted to help him. We didn’t know each other that well, necessarily, but I felt like we’d gotten acquainted past the point of friendly strangers and it mattered to me how he was coping with life. I mean, there he was, this A’li-uud in the ultimate position of power, presiding over the kingdom in which he’d grown up, and it was blatantly obvious he felt he didn’t have a single rope to hold onto. Based on what he’d told me about himself, how he’d sacrificed so much to become the best warrior he could be and how he’d made Dhal’at his first priority from the time he was old enough to make his own decisions, I could only imagine just how severely the disapproval from the populace affected him, Much less the outright accusations that he had killed the last Elder just to take the throne.
It was all I could think about during those three days.
When I was at the salon, my clients yammered on about their goings-on and their memories of Earth and the newest relationship developments between them and other colonists, but my mind remained grounded in thoughts of Venan. When I was home at night, I couldn’t even focus on the book I was reading; instead, I stared at the text until it swam before my eyes and wondered what I, a simple human, could to do help the powerful alien Elder overcome his turmoil. It wasn’t my job to “fix” him, but he deserved some relief.
Actually, that wasn’t the only reason. My determination to pull him out of his misery was partly selfish, too. I was thoroughly attracted to the dark and brooding side of Venan, of course, but I was starting to want to see more. What other personalities were inside him? I wanted to see what he was like when he felt playful; I wanted to experience his moods of dream and whimsy; I wanted to know the unencumbered A’li-uud on the other side of the warrior wall. When I’d first met him, it hadn’t even dawned on me that he could’ve been anything more but the man of mystery and serious thoughts. After the haircutting, though, I knew otherwise. If he were just rules and restrictions, he would’ve never done something so symbolically drastic, particularly being the figurehead he was. There was more. And I wanted to see it.
By the time afternoon struck on the third day since I’d gone to the palace with my stylist equipment and lopped off well over a hundred years of Venan’s history, I decided I needed to see him. If he wasn’t going to come to me, I was going to go to him. Unfortunately, I still didn’t have an inkling as to how I would manage to lift his spirits, but I figured the worst thing I could do was try.
“Barb, I’m taking the rest of the day off,” I announced.
Across the salon, the middle-aged woman with the auburn dye-job twisted at the waist to peer at me over her shoulder. She had a strip of her client’s hair pinched between her index and middle fingers with her scissors poised to snip.
“I’m booked up for the rest of the day, Tavi,” she reminded me. “I can’t take your clients.”
“That’s okay. I didn’t make appointments for the afternoon. It was my walk-in day,” I told her, neatly folding the black cover cape and placing it on the seat of the chair in front of me. Thankfully, I didn’t have much to clean up, as my last client had left almost an hour before.
“Are you feeling all right?” Barb asked with concern.
I nodded and turned away from her to gather my combs and stuff them into the cylinder of sterilizing solution. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “There’s just something I need to do.
”
The metallic sound of her shears closing together prefaced her knowing response. “You’re going to see that Elder, aren’t you?”
“What?” I spun around, the towel I’d plucked from the back of the chair slapping against my knees. “How do you know about that?”
“One of the nurses came in yesterday after you left. She told me.”
I furrowed my brow. “Edie?” As sociable as she was, I couldn’t imagine Edie coming into the salon to get her hair done by anyone but me. Frankly, the thought stung my ego a little.
“No, a tall one without quite as much energy,” Barb chuckled. She was focused on trimming her client’s hair, but her eyes darted up to me at random intervals to gauge my reaction. “But it was Edie who told her you were seeing the Elder.”
“Awesome,” I muttered grouchily. I crossed the salon to throw the used towel into the laundry basket and inadvertently began planning the tongue-lashing I’d be giving Edie later for blabbing my business to her co-workers. It wasn’t so much that I was bothered by people knowing I was seeing Venan—if a dinner and a haircut could even be called that—but the minute Barb had made it known she knew, which meant others were likely to know as well. I felt a weight of expectation on me regarding my relationship with Venan that I didn’t want or need.
“Don’t be sour with her, honey,” Barb urged gently, pausing the trim to place her free hand on her hip and give me a kind look. “She’s probably just excited for you.”
I snorted. “Yeah, Edie’s more excited about it than I am, I think.” Snagging my jacket from the hook next to my station, I added, “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She waved goodbye with the scissors, and I left. As I stepped into the sunshine, I crinkled my nose and wondered why I’d bothered bringing a jacket to work at all. According to the A’li-uud, Dhal’at was entering the cool season, but it was still the desert and uncomfortably warm no matter what time of year it was turning into.
Instead of heading toward home like usual, I took a left at the first colony crossroad I met. I was going straight to the palace before I lost my nerve and retreated, just to let another three days go by. The colony was bustling, and I had to weave between other pedestrians strolling toward their destinations, but I was pleased that, by the time I reached the archway leading into Ka-lik’et, I didn’t encounter anyone I knew.
A'li-uud were everywhere. I didn’t leave the colony often, but, from the few times I had, that seemed to be normal for the middle of the day. The Merchant’s Walk, which was a world-renowned marketplace on the opposite side of the city from the colony, brought a host of A’li-uud from all kingdoms each day on a mission to shop, sell, or investigate the newest items and prices displayed beneath multi-colored silk tents. Dhal’atian A’li-uud had a richly blue complexion and ice-white hair, but Ka-lik’et was crawling with aliens of aqua, teal, azure, and even navy shades during market hours. It was an exciting scene to step into, albeit a little unnerving because there were very few humans intermingling amongst the Albaterran natives.
As I approached the palace, I remembered that I was supposed to have an escort. Humans weren’t allowed into the palace without one, and I doubted very much that my having been asked there before would grant me admittance. Two guards stood on either side of the entrance walk, and I could see four more split into pairs at the grand double doors. My nerves took hold of my belly, and I almost tripped over my own feet as one leg decided to hesitate while the other was determined to keep going.
“Move along on your way, human,” said one of the guards when I drew near enough. He was watching me suspiciously, like he wasn’t sure if I was actually approaching the palace or just getting a closer look as I walked past.
“I’m here to see Elder Venan,” I declared, my tone not sounding nearly as confident as my words.
He didn’t flinch. “Humans are permitted only with an escort and preferably with an invitation,” he instructed.
It was just as I expected. I nodded and said, “I know, but I was hoping you could make an exception. Elder Venan’s asked me here twice already.”
“There are no exceptions,” came his stiff reply.
I opened my mouth to argue, but he moved his hulking figure to block the walk. His comrades closed in around him, each staring me down with the obvious intent to intimidate. It worked. I took a step back and dropped my gaze. Before I gave up entirely, however, I decided to take one last shot.
“You know, he’d probably be glad to know I’m here. Could you at least go tell him and ask if I—?”
My question was interrupted by the sudden opening of one of the double doors. At first glance, it looked like Venan appeared on the threshold, but I blinked and realized I was seeing Zuran. He nodded to the guards nearest him and trotted down the clay stairs to the walk, and he caught sight of me.
“Well!” he called, brushing his hand over his shiny strands and grinning brightly. “Look who ventured out of the colony!”
“Hi, Zuran,” I said a little warily. I liked him quite a bit, but he had a habit of overdoing mischief and sarcasm that left me drained and frustrated.
“Come to see my despairing brother, have you?” he asked, closing the gap between us. The guards blocking my entrance stepped back into their original places to allow Zuran through, though they seemed a little grumpy that I did indeed have some connection to the palace.
I considered brushing him off and persisting in my attempts to persuade the guards, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think I actually had a chance at success on my own. So, I answered, “I’m trying to, but they won’t let me in.”
“No, you need an escort,” Zuran told me. His grin was widening a bit with amusement, and I bristled.
“So I’ve heard.”
“It matters not,” he continued, coming to a halt just a foot before me. He towered above, and his well-toned body seemed even more godlike in such proximity. “He has gone.”
I flicked my eyes to a second-story window. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe Zuran, but it was hard to tell if he was joking or not. “He left?”
“The Council called a Forum. You just missed him by a mere minute.” He extended an arm toward me in gallant fashion, and I smiled at his boyish charm. “Would you care to be accompanied back to the colony? I have some business there to which I must attend before our esteemed Elder has my head for shirking my duties.”
“Sure,” I agreed. The guard who’d talked to me was frowning deeply, lines of displeasure forming from his nostrils to his chin. I wasn’t sure what he was so irritated about, but I didn’t really care, either. I was slowly adopting Venan’s disgust for the recent Dhal’atian attitude. Taking Zuran’s arm, we left the guards behind and started to stroll back toward the colony in comfortable silence. I bit my lower lip and mentally wrestled with myself for a few steps before deciding to take my chances and ask, “Do you have to take care of your business right away, or can I have a moment of your time?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Venan
The towering walls of P’otes-tat Ulti somehow seemed infinitely more threatening in the dazzling light of day. Their dark stone construction was ominous, hinting to secrets, menace and all-encompassing power within. The tallest peaks were sharp and stabbing as though intending to puncture the serene turquoise blanket of sky above, and the thick fortress of fence around the property beckoned in the blackest souls while simultaneously warding off intruders. A silhouette of the castle-like structure would have indicated not a castle at all but a metropolitan skyline, as there was absolutely no symmetry and a broad variance of shapes and sizes to be found. The Elder City was incredible in its own right, but, for all intents and purposes, it was a terrifying place for anyone but the spare few who had taken to its cavernous rooms and winding corridors as their home.
P’otes-tat Ulti had been the same as it was before me now for many, many years—over a millennium, in fact—and, thus, it did not escape my notice that something was extraordin
arily out-of-place. I stood just inside the gates separating the grounds from four of the eleven Albaterran kingdoms with the exquisite and acclaimed doors boasting entrance in front of me, but a vessel unnatural both to P’otes-tat Ulti and to A’li-uud culture in general drew my attention. It was parked in the western courtyard, its matte silver legs disturbing the otherwise smooth emerald grass. Oblong and beastly, the spacecraft was adorned with intricately-patterned protrusions and strips of violet light that blinded me more than the relentless glare of the white midday sun. I knew by sight alone this was not an A’li-uud ship, nor was it human, but I could only theorize that I was looking at a Novain cruiser. If my hypothesis was correct, I was surprised. Zuran had intimated the captain of the Novai had come, and the craft was distinctly lacking in the regality or finesse one would expect from a dignitary’s transport.
Reluctant to linger much longer outdoors and now teeming with curiosity about the purpose of the Novai visit, I hustled from the gates toward the doors. They were closed, as they always were save for entering and exiting Council members, but they were flanked by two P’otes-tat Ulti guards I had come to recognize not by name but by face.
“Elder Venan,” the one on the left greeted, inclining his head. The other mirrored the gesture of the first in respect, and I returned the nod with one of my own. They reached for the thick, head-sized loops and pulled, admitting me into the narrow foyer that opened into the Council chamber.
The chamber was as dank in its appearance as the exterior of the castle. Its perfectly round shape should have offered a sense of intimacy and comradery to those within, but any semblance of comfort provided was nullified by the reaching walls that rose tens of stories overhead. Instead, it left one to feel as if they had been dropped to the bottom of a subterranean pit. The distant ceiling appeared not to be a ceiling at all but a great circular orifice through which the sun or stars above could drop down and scoop up anyone it so desired, though I knew the ceiling actually to be glass rather than nothing at all. The swarthy stones of the curved walls were the same stones of the floor, which granted the illusion that they were interchangeable and gravity had no place in the sacred room.
Venan: A Paranormal Sci-Fi Alien Romance: Albaterra Mates Book 7 (The End) Page 11
