Survive

by Vera Nazarian

  However, there’s another tradition called “amrevet days” which takes place at the end of the first eight months of their married life, and it involves a sneaky escape from friends and family to a secret destination for some much-needed privacy for the couple. Usually there is indeed a long-distance trip involved, but the purpose is to reinforce their commitment to one another and reassess their life goals, now that they know what it’s like living together—a kind of renewal of vows. And yes, there is a honeymoon quality to it, since many couples choose this time to conceive children.

  Meanwhile, the time immediately after the Wedding emphasizes the concept of hearth and home—the notion of creating, deepening, and confirming one’s personal sense of a safe harbor, a home base. Except, two people are now in the equation: the new couple and their combined sense of what home represents to each one of them, only blended together.

  The Imperial tradition is only slightly different. In addition to the Imperial Crown Prince and His Wife enjoying a private “day off” after their Wedding Day to establish their new intimate home in each other’s hearts and each other’s company, the entire nation gets a holiday. Which means that today—Red Amrevet 10, Redday, and normally the first business day of the week—is a day off work for nearly everyone.

  Now that Aeson and I are officially married, I have legal rights as the Imperial Consort, and as a Kassiopei. Members of my family automatically become citizens. They will still need to take the Oath and file some paperwork, but it is all a formality. Furthermore—and I found this out only recently—because of their association with Kassiopei, my family attains the first rank of nobility. I am still not entirely clear on that, but I’m sure it will be explained shortly. . . .

  In any case, starting tomorrow, Aeson and I are technically free to move out of the Imperial Palace and return to live at his estate in Phoinios Heights, or anywhere else we choose to make our new home. And my father and George will get nice housing in the city.

  But today—our first day as a married couple—we’re supposed to do nothing but enjoy each other’s company in the Imperial Crown Prince’s Quarters.

  Which of course means, both Aeson and I spend a lot of time cuddling after our leisurely eos bread, then laze around until Noon Ghost Time on a luxurious sofa in the master suite watching silly and festive TV feeds with news footage of celebrations all around the country and public commentary about our Wedding. Most of it is giggle-inducing media nonsense filled with processional footage and images of ourselves on the hovering platforms waving to the crowds.

  Afterwards we consider taking a dip in the interior swimming pool located on this side of Aeson’s Quarters, or checking out the Wedding presents that once comprised the Tree of Gifts and have been delivered to the opposite side of the floor which is nearer my residence.

  My curiosity wins, so I convince Aeson to come with me and take a look at the mountain of our presents—which means, we would need to go past the workroom that separates our two residences.

  Yes, by tradition we are strictly forbidden from working or socially interacting with anyone else today, and that includes our families.

  But try telling that to Aeson or me. . . . My husband immediately stops over to check with the two surprised astra daimon on duty at the computer desks, permanently monitoring the SPC stations.

  “Everything okay? Any notable changes in the Helios system status?” Aeson asks.

  “Bashtooh! What are you doing here, Kass?” one of them says with a snort, seeing Aeson’s slightly disheveled hair and casually loosened shirt collar, then glancing at me—I’m in a similar, highly informal state—while I merely blush and smile. “Begging pardon, Imperial Lady Gwen, aren’t you two supposed to be—um—”

  But in seconds they start talking SPC business, and Aeson naturally gets seduced by the sight of raw data. . . . One thing leads to another, and suddenly he’s in a chair, keying in values and checking the latest reports like a total commanding officer nerd—one of the reasons why I love him so.

  As for me, I also forget about those Wedding gifts and sneak past the workroom, and onward through my own bedroom, then head for the guest suites where Dad and George are staying.

  As I turn the corner, patting down my hair and dress to appear less tousled, I hear animated conversation and the background sound of TV feeds coming from their open door. Just as I’d hoped, my family members are all here. I can hear Gracie’s impassioned voice arguing something, George responding calmly, then Dad and Gordie barely getting a word in.

  My first thought is, Thank goodness, Dad sounds like he’s doing okay. . . . Only now does it sink in how relentlessly worried I’ve been about him in the back of my mind, even with all my main Wedding concerns taking over.

  I also hear Hasmik saying something, and even Blayne’s comfortable voice. So, some of my friends are here too. . . .

  The moment I peer in, Gordie sees me first and says, “Whoa! Gee Two!”

  My relatives turn their heads and see me, and it’s happy mayhem.

  “Oh wow! Gwenie! What are you doing here?” Gracie rushes toward me with a startled, happy look.

  Okay . . . why am I feeling silly and weird, all of a sudden? Everyone’s looking at me. Will they see that I’m different somehow? That I’ve had sex?

  Well, duh. Of course, they know.

  I am literally supposed to be having sex, and doing it all day today—that’s the general expectation of the public, considering I’ve been married in front of a million people.

  Also, what kind of weirdo thoughts are these?

  I try to suppress the crazy sense of awkwardness, and smile and wave shyly from the doorway, then step into the room. . . .

  “Just wanted to drop by and see how everyone was doing—Dad and—”

  “Is everything okay?” Gracie asks, examining me closely as only a sister would. “You look good. Why aren’t you on your honeymoon? Where is your hubby?”

  “Yes! Everything’s wonderful,” I say quickly, feeling a flush in my cheeks. “And I am. . . . Aeson and I were going to look at the Wedding presents, so we just dropped by, for a few minutes—he’s in the workroom now, should be here soon—Dad, are you okay?”

  “Gwenie-girl, you needn’t ever worry,” Dad says, smiling and waving from his comfortable chair where he’s sitting with his feet up on an ottoman, and a bowl of snacks in his lap. “You should be with your fellow, enjoying your day. No fussing, especially not today, sweetheart—okay? See, I’m just fine, and eating something very tasty. Not sure what it is, but it’s very good.”

  “Okay, Daddy,” I say with a relieved smile.

  “Was such a gorgeous Wedding!” Gracie says. “Just perfect in every way. The reception was super fun too.”

  I look at my little sister fondly.

  “So—Mrs. Kassiopei. How does it feel to be Mrs. Kass?” George gives me a playful smirk from the sofa where he’s sitting next to Blayne and Hasmik.

  “It’s kind of surreal,” I say, approaching them with a grin. “Insanely wonderful.”

  “The name’s definitely impressive. Doesn’t have the same ring to it as Lark, but makes up for it in lexical complexity,” Blayne says, nodding wisely. I notice the boy is wearing that same orichalcum vest that he had on last night.

  I point to it and say, “Now that’s fantastic, Blayne. So glad you were in the Ceremony! Thank you!”

  “You can thank this awesome woman,” Blayne says with a nod at Hasmik. “She had this custom-made for me at her place of work.”

  I turn to look at her with parted lips. “Hasmik! Oh wow! That was you?”

  Hasmik gives me a glowing smile. “Special fabric. Proprietary multi-layer orichalcum alloy threads. Not widely used yet. This is Fleet issue, by special permission, since Blayne is a formal instructor for LM Forms, and now has the necessary clearance. I submitted him as a tester for this hover-vest design. Hover-vests are considered special forces gear in the military, and this particular one is a new beta model using
our latest textiles product.”

  “That’s absolutely brilliant!” I exclaim.

  “It is!” Gracie echoes me. “Now Blayne can use it even outside of Fleet Cadet School HQ, to get around. Yesterday was the first time he tried using it.”

  “And I wasn’t even arrested,” Blayne adds.

  I continue to express my admiration, when a soft, stifled sob comes from the direction of the open doors.

  I turn around to look—everyone does.

  It’s Princess Manala. She’s standing at the entrance in uncertainty, peering at all of us gathered inside the room. “Aeson? Are you here—where is my brother—I need—he must help—” she manages to utter between shuddering breaths. Even from across the room it’s apparent that her entire body is shaking, and her stunned face is smudged with tears. She looks absolutely distraught.

  “Manala!” I say. “What’s wrong? Oh my God, are you okay?”

  With a loud sob, Manala suddenly comes running, and throws her arms around me in a terrified embrace.

  “Oh no, what’s wrong, dear?” I can hear my Dad say, and the others too, even as I hold Manala’s slight shaking body.

  “He . . . he’s gone!” she wails suddenly. “I—I can’t—he’s gone!”

  “Who? What is it? Who’s gone?” my brother George asks, setting down his glass.

  Manala shudders, as another rending sob escapes her, and lifts up her contorted face from my shoulder to glance briefly at George, then looks in my eyes. “My . . . Khemji! Khemji! He ran away and now he’s gone!”

  Chapter 67

  “Oh, no!” I say, with an immediate stab of worry. “What happened? Where is Khemji? How did he—”

  “No! Janik, no!” Hasmik immediately gets up and joins us, putting her arms around Manala from the other side.

  For a few seconds Manala relaxes in our supporting embrace and bawls outright. She shakes with her whole body, her face contorted with ugly-crying, gasping for air in-between violent sobs, huge tears pouring down her cheeks, and what little cosmetics she has on are smudged in dirty streaks around her normally lovely features. And then, between sobs she tells us what happened in a blubbering stream-of-consciousness.

  “Khemji was loose in my room . . . and . . . and the balcony window was open—I always close it unless . . . unless the security grate is locked—and I forgot! Last night, it was last night, I—I was upset so I came back to my Quarters and let Khemji in that bedroom—usually he is in the other room with . . . with no big window, so he can’t get out . . . and I always—always make sure there are no openings in the screen—but I was so upset that . . . I didn’t think and I just opened the horrid window—and I went to bed, and then—and then in the morning he was gone! It is my fault!”

  “Oh no,” Hasmik whispers, gently moving her hand in circular motions to rub Manala’s back. “Well maybe he went for a little walk? He is—maybe, janik, he could be right outside, and did not go too far? He is a big cat, and everyone will see him—”

  “No! I looked for him outside!” Manala wails, shaking even more, beginning to stutter, this time with anger. “I—I am hateful, evil! My fault! I—I searched all over—the—the p-p-park, all morning—as soon as I woke up at dawn and realized he wasn’t there, I walked all around the park, all the gardens, everywhere, for hours! I called him and called him! Then I climbed on the b-b-b-alcony and tried to climb to the roof—”

  “Oh, no, no—you didn’t! Good lord!” Gracie mutters.

  “I w-w-was on the balcony railing and checked the r-r-roof, which he loves to look at—through the window, he loves watching birds . . . and all the green hanging vines,” Manala continues, choking on her sobs, “then c-c-came down again, and w-w-went outside, and I asked two of my guards to help, and—and they went to look too! Searched for three hours! And . . . no one . . . has seen him!”

  “He has to be somewhere nearby,” I say softly. “Cats sometimes get out and like to run free. Usually they don’t stray too far from home, and remain in the neighborhood, and then come back on their own. . . . He couldn’t have gotten far.”

  “You know, it’s very likely he could be sleeping somewhere,” Dad says in a comforting tone from his chair. “Probably found a cozy hiding spot and is waiting for darkness.”

  “That’s right,” Blayne adds. “Cats are nocturnal, so he’ll be out at night.”

  “But he’s hungry! He will be so hungry!” Manala takes a deep breath in an attempt to stop herself from shuddering. “He doesn’t know how to hunt! He is too tame! He will starve on his own!”

  “Well, he is kind of super-fat, so probably will be okay without food for a while,” Gordie says thoughtfully.

  Manala wails even harder.

  “Gordie! Not helping,” Gracie says sternly.

  “Sorry,” my younger brother says sheepishly.

  In that moment, Aeson appears at the door of the suite. He peers in with a slow smile, his gaze automatically searching the room for me. Seeing his sister crying however, he immediately grows serious and approaches us. “What’s going on? Manala? Are you okay?”

  “Khemji got out and is missing,” I tell him with a frown.

  Immediately Manala launches herself at her brother and hides her face in his chest with renewed sobs, and repeats her story in broken sentences.

  Aeson listens, holding her gently, and brushes back her messy, tumbled, golden hair from her streaked face. “All right, we will go look for him again, right now,” he says. “Manala, look at me—I promise, we will find Khemji. Okay?”

  “Okay, Aeson . . . please, please find him!” Manala stares up into his eyes with absolute trust. And then she covers her mouth in shock. “Oh no! It’s your special day after your Wedding! You and Gwen must spend time together, you mustn’t trouble yourselves—”

  Aeson shakes his head at her and glances at me. “Nonsense. We could use a walk—right, Gwen?”

  “Oh, yes!” I say at once.

  “Manala, big breath,” Aeson continues, looking his sister in the eyes. “You should’ve come to get me earlier. In the next few minutes I am going to assign many, many Palace servants to start looking for Khemji. And we will look for him ourselves.”

  Manala looks up at her brother and nods, quieting her sobs. For the first time, her expression is bright with hope.

  Aeson starts issuing orders on his wrist device. The rest of us all glance at each other, pausing for a moment. Then George stands up and casually begins moving to the door. “So—I guess we’re all looking for the elephant cat,” he says calmly. “Let’s go.”

  And this is how Aeson and I—and most of my family and friends, our personal guards, and half the Imperial Palace staff—spend the remainder of the afternoon of our first day as a married couple searching the Imperial premises for a very big, very fat, black cat. . . .

  I dare any other married couple on Earth to match that for a honeymoon activity. . . . Seriously.

  My Dad and Blayne stay behind in the guest suite to discuss the literary merits of Thackeray versus Hardy in Victorian literature, promising to keep an eye out in case Khemji shows up in the Prince’s Quarters.

  All the rest of us hit the park and the Palace grounds.

  Aeson and I try to keep a low profile and avoid the public as much as possible—after all, we’re supposed to be otherwise occupied—as we stroll around the park, which is still covered by our Wedding decorations and not-yet-wilting flowers in garlands and bouquet arrangements. We walk ahead of everyone else, frequently reaching out to each other and letting our fingers touch briefly with frissons of sensation passing between us, even as we exchange intimate glances and hold back private smiles.

  However, we take our search duty seriously and check everywhere including underneath park benches, inside gazebo-like structures and shrubbery, calling out for Khemji by name. That is—Aeson calls Khemji, since Khemji is very fond of him, and I just stay quiet so as not to spook the truant kitty. Manala and Hasmik and Gordie walk nearby, calling ou
t also, while George, Gracie, and several of our guards bring up the rear and double-check the same spots again.

  After more than an hour and no results, we return to our Quarters in the Palace. Manala starts to cry again, this time softly from exhaustion, while another shift of guards is sent to continue looking.

  “Any progress?” Dad asks as we get back to their suite.

  Aeson and I shake our heads negatively, while Hasmik goes to pour Manala a glass of water.

  “It’s not even dark yet,” Blayne says calmly from his seat across from my father. “Khemji will emerge soon.”

  “That’s right.” Gracie nods, plopping down on the sofa next to Blayne.

  “He is gone and he is not coming back. It’s all my fault . . .” Manala says with a dead expression in her eyes, sitting down on the edge of the sofa. She wilts, slowly leaning forward in posture, and stares off into the distance.

  “Janik, no. . . . Don’t blame yourself. Things like this can happen to anyone.” Hasmik sits down next to Manala and hands her the water. “But animals are clever and loving, and they come back. Khemji loves you and he will return.”

  “No, he won’t!” Manala cries suddenly with a violent, frightening edge to her voice, and at once I feel a strange cascade of chills down my spine at the alien sound of it. Her voice is loud and hard, almost tangible, and there is no doubt it’s a power voice. Hearing it, everyone present grows uncommonly still and pays attention.

  “He is gone! I left the window open! I am hateful!” Manala sits up and continues speaking, her words falling down like hammer blows and rebounding throughout the room. The glass that she holds in her unsteady hand looks ready to fall, and the water sloshes and spills past the rim.