The Crisis at the Royal Wedding: Part 3
“This is crazy. We don’t even like each other,” I said as my mouth returned to Shockley’s.
He laughed, his stubble scratching against my cheek. His hands left my hips to gesture to the floor of his room where his retina-searing robe lay. Beside it, the golden rope from the reception glistened atop my discarded sash. “I think we like each other just fine.”
I grabbed his hands and returned them to my body. “You know what I mean,” I argued into a new kiss.
“Just because we’ve been on opposite sides of a fight doesn’t mean we don’t like each other,” Shockley said. I tugged upward on the hem of his shirt. He helpfully raised his arms.
“But that’s—” I lost my admittedly loose grasp on the point I was trying to make as Shockley’s shirt joined our clothing pile. It was one thing to know Shockley was broad-shouldered and well-muscled, to distantly know that he was in shape and physically capable. It was another to see it. I stepped back and stared at the taut lines of his abdomen, the broad plane of his chest, the inviting curves of his biceps. We hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights and the city lights streaming through the window framed every outrageously defined inch of him.
“You alright, Borowicz?” he teased, running a hand through his disheveled curls. His hair was, annoyingly, as soft as it looked. His entire upper body flexed with the lifting of his arm.
“Oh, fuck you,” I shot back.
Shockley held up his pointer and middle finger and entwined them. “I mean, fingers crossed, right?”
God, I hated him. But also, I was coming to realize, I really, really didn’t. And my liking him had very little to do with how he looked without a shirt on. “You know what I mean!” I motioned at his bare torso. “You call yourself an archaeologist, and you look like that! No archaeologist looks like this in real life!”
Shockley pulled me close, his mouth going to my neck. He nudged the collar of my dress out of his way with his chin. “I thought you said I wasn’t an archaeologist.”
“You’re not,” I said. “But you—”
Shockley cut me off with his mouth. “Gretchen, you know it’s okay if you like me, right? I promise, your secret is safe with me.”
I kissed him hard, pressing up onto my toes to bury my hands in his hair again. Through the thin fabric of my gown, his hands burned hot on the small of my back. His fingers deftly undid the buttons of my gown and eased it from my shoulders. In my attempt to remove the well-fitted sleeves, my hands got caught. We parted, both of us laughing as I fought against the dress; my arms flailed, trapped.
Of course, something this mortifying would happen to me.
Shockley stilled my elbows. “Only you, Gretchen,” he whispered, shaking his head. He gently removed each of my hands from my fabric prison.
“This Destyrian formal wear is a nightmare. I’m usually not this much of a disaster undressing myself,” I promised as the dress slipped to my hips.
“Somehow, I doubt that.” Shockley’s grinning face shone in the moonlight. God, he had a spectacular smile.
His hand, calloused but gentle, cupped my cheek. He dipped down, touching our foreheads together. The air around us wound tight with a sudden tension, the congenial, laughing atmosphere of a moment ago swept away by something much more serious.
Pressed against Shockley, breathing in tandem with him, I was struck by how comfortable I was. How safe to be myself, I felt. “Max, I—”
A beep from my wrist interrupted me. I glared at my Ran’dyl for its rudeness.
I tried again. “Max—”
The damn thing beeped again. Shockley raised his eyebrow as I ran my thumb across my Ran’dyl to silence it. “Better?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes and tried to smile. “Yeah,” I said.
Gretchen Myaxi, where are you? screamed through my head like a freight train.
“Azo’lah?” I asked out loud.
Shackley’s jaw dropped, his eyes pinching together in question.
I backed up a step, bringing my palms to my temples. “Oh, shit, no. That’s not—”
Gretchen! Where are you? Tell me now, Azo’lah demanded across our technopathic link. Her voice was filled with concern and anger.
I was sure there was nothing wrong with Fleetwood, Chester, or Matt for, if their safety were in jeopardy, Azo’lah wouldn’t have wasted time in telling me. I couldn’t imagine why she was demanding my current location.
Not wanting to give away our secret to Shockley, I sent back a text through our minds. I’m fine, I’m back at the guest quarters of the palace. What’s wrong?
What’s wrong is that you are lying! Azo’lah thundered. You are not in your rooms! Where. Are. You?
Shit, shit, shit.
I took another small step back from Shockley, ignoring the way my stomach filled with leaden disappointment at the loss of his touch.
“Gretchen?” he asked, his voice soft as the rug beneath my feet.
“Sorry, sorry,” I said out loud, holding up my wrist with my Ran’dyl. “I just remembered that I promised to check in with Azo’lah before I went to sleep. She won’t—she won’t stop unless I call her.”
Shockley’s brow contracted dubiously for a moment before he nodded. “Of course, check-in. I can wait.”
GRETCHEN! I could feel Azo’lah’s rage pour down our connection. It only stoked my frustration at being interrupted further.
I activated the comms on my Ran’dyl. “Azo’lah, what?”
“Gretchen, where are you?” She sounded as ragged over the Ran’dyl as she did in our internal comms. “Are you alright? Where are—”
“Azo’lah,” I cut in, “I’m fine. Calm down. I’m at the guest quarters in the palace like I said.”
“No, you are not! I am in our room at this very moment, and you are not present!”
Shockley’s eyes widened as he folded his impressive arms across his even more impressive chest. His mouth twisted into a teasing smirk.
Surveying Shockley and my mutual half-nakedness, I said, “I’m, uh, in a friend’s room?”
Shockley stifled his barking laughter with his knuckles.
“A friend? What friend? You don’t have friends here outside of the crew!”
Shockley’s hand fell, his mirth bursting forth unencumbered.
I smacked his muscled stomach playfully. “Cut it out.”
“Is that—” Azo’lah’s concern and anger were replaced with quiet disbelief as she asked, “Is that Shockley? Are you with Shockley?”
My cheeks burned hot. “Ye-yeah. But why does it matter? Azo’lah, what is going on?”
“You’re in Shockley’s guest quarters? He’s with the Western contingent, yes? They’re the floor below ours.” Azo’lah did not wait for my confirmation before continuing. “I’ll be right there.”
“Azo’lah, that’s not necessary…” I was met with uncaring silence. She had already cut-off our comms. Reaching out to her using our telepathic bond would be useless at this point. She was coming looking for Shockley’s room no matter what I said.
My heart settled in my stomach like an anchor on the ocean floor.
Shockley crossed to the light panel, bringing his room into blinding relief. I blinked against the sharp light as he asked, “Why do I feel the way I did when my parents caught me with someone in the backseat of my car in high school?”
“Backseat of your car? Classy,” I snarked as I shoved my arms into the flimsy sleeves of my dress.
Shockley shrugged, unashamed. “Hey, I used the few resources afforded to me.”
“I’m sure you did.” I wrestled with the buttons at the back of my dress. After a long, unsuccessful moment, I glared at Shockley. “A little help, please?”
“Seems counterintuitive,” Shockley said as he moved to help me. I held my hair out of his way. “Do you think—”
Shockley’s question was cut off by Azo’lah’s screams of, “Gretchen! Gretchen!” echoing in the hall outside his room.
“How the hell did she get here so fast?” Shockley asked as the door dematerialized without either of us activating it. The lines of amusement that had creased his face moments before were replaced with divots of confusion as Azo’lah, still in her wedding finery, strode into his room, uninvited. “How the hell did you get in here? That door was locked.”
Azo’lah’s gaze landed on me. Her navy eyes widened fractionally—whether because of my proximity to Shockley, or our state of undress, or possibly because of the bird’s nest that Shockley’s hands had turned my hair into. Her nostrils flared, and the line of her mouth hardened. Exasperation flared molten hot in my chest at her evident judgment of me.
She turned her gaze on Shockley.“Myax override,” she lied easily.
Shockley wasn’t buying it. “Myax override in a palace that isn’t your Auhtula’s?”
Azo’lah ignored him. “Gretchen, you must come with me to the Killer Qu’een at once.”
“Why?” I returned her glare full-force. “Are Fleetwood, Chester, and Matt alright?”
“They are fine. There has been a security breach in the palace. Someone has broken into our rooms and ransacked your quarters.”
A buzzing filled my ears, along with a gaping chasm of disconnect in my brain, which widened as I processed the phrases security breach and ransacked your quarters. “Why would someone break into my room?”
“We do not yet know. To steal your work, to hurt you.” Her glower softened as she said, “It is possible they were attempting to break into the Fulyiti’s quarters and got the wrong room.”
“Where’s Fleetwood now?” Shockley asked, the man of moments ago replaced by the mercenary captain. “Is she safe?”
Azo’lah’s voice was colder than the vacuum of space as she replied, “Fulyiti Fleetwood’s safety is none of your concern.”
Shockley stooped to retrieve his shirt. “Whatever happened at the temple on Vas Roya, I like Fleetwood. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.”
Azo’lah ignored him, a muscle in her jaw twitching. “Gretchen, come, please. Milyna and my Myax sisters are with the Fulyiti and the others—”
“I’m coming, too,” Shockley said as he grabbed a black canvas jacket from a chair and pulled it on.
“No, you are not,” Azo’lah returned. “This does not concern you.”
“Tyler was with Matt on your ship tonight,” Shockley argued as he held out his arm, offering something to lean against as I put on my shoes. “That’s where you’re going right now, right? Which means, if this is what we both think this is, then a member of my crew may be in danger. That makes this my business.” Shockley helped haul me back to my full height. “Regardless, you’re in enemy territory. I don’t think you have the luxury of turning down help.”
Azo’lah stepped forward and grabbed my hand, wrenching me from Shockley’s grasp. “I do not have time to argue this. I will not stop you from coming with us,” she conceded as she pulled me toward the hall. Shockley followed us quickly. “But if you do anything—”
“I won’t,” Shockley promised as his door materialized at our backs. Our footsteps echoed against the cavernous ceiling of the empty hallway.
Azo’lah’s strides elongated as she growled, “Then keep up.”
“Is this really necessary?” I asked as we were stopped by two Myax—one from our own escort and one from the Auhtul Cal’ton’s—at the base of the Killer Qu’een. I was surprised that Shockley silently submitted to being scanned.
“This one’s translation implant is registered as belonging to a mercenary wanted on the Central continent.” Cal’ton’s Myax’s lip twitched in either amusement or disgust. “Such interesting company your house keeps Azo’lah Myax. This one cannot enter. Would you like me to arrest him instead?”
“Do as you wish.” Azo’lah waved a dismissive hand and hauled me up the ramp. I pried my arm out of her grip. “No, don’t! Azo’lah will vouch for him.” Azo’lah glared at me over her shoulder.
I shrugged and moved in front of Shockley. “Fine, I’m going back to my room.”
Azo’lah inhaled bracingly. “Yes, alright. I vouch for him on my honor as a Myax,” Azo’lah glanced at Shockley. “We both know the consequences if it is broken?”
“Don’t worry Azo’lah, I won’t get you into trouble,” Shockley said, winking disarmingly.
“I did not give you my name,” Azo’lah pivoted, stalking into the ship. The ramp was immediately retracted behind us, sealing off the outside world. The scene inside the Killer Qu’een’s common room was like someone had started out writing a movie about a frat house that strangely veered into a political thriller. A keg of beer dominated the kitschy, sculpted banana coffee table on top of the glittery faux tiger skin rug. Glasses in various states of fullness were scattered about the space, along with what looked like half the contents of Fleetwood’s closet. A familiar 70s disco anthem blared from the rainbow-lit jukebox in the corner. Solemn-faced Myax lined either side of the room like white and navy chess pieces waiting to be put into play.
Matt cat-called us as we entered. From his spot on the floor, he held up his glass and drunkenly cheers-ed the air in my direction.
“Ohh! You owe me a sample of fur’tol, your Majesty,” Chester crowed victoriously. Cross-legged, he was perched upon Tyler’s back as he, rather impressively, continued to execute push-ups.
Auhtul Cal’ton looked up from where he was sprawled next to Fleetwood on the plush lip-shaped sofa. He stood, stepping over Matt’s sprawling legs. Cal’ton circled me, tugging curiously at the mismatched buttons of my hastily redonned dress.
I stepped back, accidentally tripping over Azo’lah. “Sorry,” I said as Shockley helped steady me.
“And that’s ten,” Tyler panted. Fleetwood lifted Chester off of Tyler’s back. He flopped to the beer-slicked floor, rolled to his back, and glanced up at us upside down. “Oh yeah, you totally owe Chester a sample, Cal’ton. That is some sex hair on Gretchen.”
“Please don’t, your Majesty,” I said, craning backward when Cal’ton’s hand reached for my deepening blush again.
“My apologies if I offended you,” the Auhtul said, bowing slightly. The sloppy motion spilled more beer onto the floor. “I know very little about your manners and customs.”
I shook my head, not wanting to cause a political incident. “No apology is necessary.”
“Most humans prefer to be touched by close friends and relatives only, except when seeking sexual gratification,” Fleetwood explained patiently, patting Cal’ton’s vacated seat for him to return.
The Auhtul sighed as he wedged himself between Fleetwood and Chester. “I shall have your sample sent to the palace in Thal next week, Chester, her Favored. You do know your friends well.”
“Some of us do,” Fleetwood said, just this side of too sweetly, with a pointed look at Azo’lah. “I told you where Gretchen probably was, and I was right. There was no need to overreact and halt the party train.”
“I was not overreacting.” Azo’lah strode over to the jukebox and deactivated it. She snatched Matt’s glass out of his hand, ignoring his protest. “When I got to our suite, Gretchen’s quarters had been broken into. Her things had clearly been searched.” She shot me a fierce look. “And I will always prioritize Gretchen’s safety over her pleasure, which she should also.”
“Can we stop talking about me like I’m not here?” I stalked over to one of the red upholstered egg chairs catty-corner to the sofa and dropped into it.
“Woah,” Tyler breathed, twisting himself, so his back was propped up against the sofa seat, his legs crisscrossing with Matt’s. “You must have been having a great time if you didn’t notice that going on.”
Shockley snorted. “We were in my room, dumbass.” He folded himself onto a non-sticky patch of floor in front of me, draping an arm over my knees. I ignored Chester’s pointed smirk, desperately wishing the chair was a real egg that would hide me from everyone’s scrutiny.
Fleetwood raised a hand in an elegantly imperious gesture. Silence fell immediately. The moments in which Fleetwood exercised her royal birthright were few and far between, and therefore, all the more powerful. “Azo’lah Myax, do you know if anything was taken from Gret’chen’s room?”
“I’m not sure,” Azo’lah replied, sliding just as easily into the role of unaffected warrior. She stood across the table from her cousin, straight-backed and with her hands folded across the small of her back, Matt’s beer still clenched in her fingers. “My first goal was to ensure your safety, locate Gretchen as the only missing member of your party, and secure her. I did not have much time to search beyond that.”
Matt hoisted himself to his knees and clumsily reached around Azo’lah to steal his beer back. “Was anyone else’s room searched?”
Azo’lah shook her head. “They appeared undisturbed.”
“We were all in one suite. Why didn’t they raid all of our rooms?” Chester asked. “Gretchen, did you have any of your work with you? Anything valuable?”
“No. It's not like I carry the artifacts with me wherever I go,” I said. “I had my modified tablet that I brought for working on some sphere translations during downtime, but unless someone’s specifically interested in the Ancient’s royal records, then no. Everything else is clothes.”
“Maybe they cased the wrong joint,” Fleetwood murmured.
“Azo’lah did mention your room is beside Gretchen’s, Fleetwood,” Shockley said.
“Yes, but the Auhtul is our next-door neighbor,” Fleetwood tapped her fingers against her knees.
The young Auhtul blinked owlishly. “You think they were looking for something of mine?”
“Or trying to intimidate you,” Milyna said from her post along the wall. “Perhaps someone saw you leaving the reception with Fulyiti Kezira.”
“I wouldn’t put it past Pola to try and frighten someone into submission and likely not do the dirty work herself,” Matt mused. “She seems like that kinda Queen.”
“Oh, she is,” Shockley concurred, resting his chin on his arm. His eyes crinkled at the edges when he caught me looking at him. I had to physically restrain myself from running my hand through his hair in front of everyone.
Even in his inebriated state, the young Auhtul appeared shaken by the implications of our discussion. Cal’ton turned to Fleetwood. “You think another Auhtula would seek to intimidate a rightful ruler?”
Fleetwood met his gaze with large, sorrowful eyes. “The whole reason we went to the Temple of Aluthua was that she was trying to remove my mother with claims of illegitimacy. We had to obtain the artifacts to prove she had the bloodline of the first Auhtula.”
“And Pola hired us to get them first,” Tyler added, his head lolling back onto the sofa seat. He smiled lazily at Matt, reaching for his beer. Matt held it away from him, grinning. More beer splattered across the floor.
I dropped my head against the back of my chair. Why couldn’t the would-be thieves wait until the crew was sober?
“If that is what Pola wanted, she failed,” Cal’ton announced, linking his arm through Fleetwood’s. She ducked her head quickly to hide her triumphant smile. “I will choose to associate and ally with whomever I wish.”
“It may not even be Pola,” Shockley said, directing his eyes to Azo’lah. “Your merry band blew up J’olpri.”
“And pissed off Sadrilla,” Tyler added cheerfully. He held up his hand, which Matt promptly met in an exceptionally uncoordinated high-five.
“Maybe you are responsible and are attempting to misdirect us,” Azo’lah interjected.
“Can’t be,” Matt argued. “They’re the only members of their crew here. Tyler’s been with me all day, there are multiple witnesses in the city, not to mention the security feed on the ship. Shockley was at the reception and left with Gretchen. Besides, with all of the security for the wedding, it’s unlikely the intruder wasn’t Destyrian. Think about it. There are only three humans invited to this wedding, and you’re all pretty distinctive. Anyone who wasn’t Destyrian would’ve been too obvious.”
“Unless you can shape shift,” Chester muttered. I looked at Azo’lah as I thought of Jordan, Sadrilla’s shape-shifting henchman.
Azo’lah said, “With all members of the party verified safe, we need to secure the room and perform a proper search. As well as see if we can get access to any of the security footage.” She turned to the white-clad Myax, who was stationed closest to the Auhtul. She must be the Auhtul’s First Myax. “With your permission, I believe it is safer for the Auhtul to remain with the Fulyiti aboard the ship until this has been done.”
The Auhtul’s First Myax nodded. “I agree. I will also send two of our number to make sure the Auhtul’s rooms were undisturbed and to expedite the work.”
“Milyna and I will accompany you,” Azo’lah replied, directing the remaining Myax in their duties while she was away. She looked torn at leaving Fleetwood out of her sight, but I knew she was itching to use her powers on the security system. She pressed her forehead to Fleetwood’s, Chester’s, and Matt’s much longer than she did mine before she departed.
When Azo’lah’s retreating back had vanished down the orange, racing striped corridor, Fleetwood flopped onto Chester with a piteous groan. “I hope she finds something, or my freedom will be castrated. Why did this have to happen after J’olpri?”
Chester smoothed Fleetwood’s glittering waves over his lap, smiling sympathetically.
“So, does this mean the party is over?” Auhtul Cal’ton asked morosely. “I have not had such fun in countless binary cycles.”
Shockley caught my eye. “Me neither, your Majesty. Me neither.”
Once Azo’lah, Milyna, and Auhtul Cal’ton’s Myax completed their searches of our quarters —nothing was missing, nor was there evidence of foul play—we were allowed to return to the palace for the rest of the night, lest our collective absence raise suspicion. Shockley and I parted ways beneath the watchful eyes of the Myax. I barely slept as all the possible reasons for the break-in churned in my head.
Breakfast in our suite was a silent affair. Fleetwood, fresh-faced but groggy, blinked at her food instead of eating it, while Chester mainlined as much vyt’al as he could. Azo’lah shoveled fruit into her mouth, participating in a one-sided staring contest with the wall.
Milyna and our three other Myax stood sentry at the door, as though whoever broke in the night prior was lying in wait to swipe our breakfast.
“So are we just...not going to talk about what happened last night?” I asked my plate, pushing my food around. For some reason, I wasn’t hungry.
Chester grinned at me over the lip of his cup. “By all means, Gretch, if you want to give us a play-by-play of how you and Shockley ended up—”
“That’s not what I meant,” I groaned.
Still refusing to make eye contact, Azo’lah pushed out from her seat and told the table, “The wedding festivities reconvene in the city center shortly. Be prepared to leave in an hour. I will go retrieve Matt from the ship.” She turned to her Myax sisters. “No one leaves or enters until I return.” Our Myax sentinels parted for Azo’lah to pass, their wall of protection reforming upon her exit.
Fleetwood speared a piece of melon with her fork. “What a dumpster inferno.”
Chester did not bother correcting her. Instead, he nodded and said, “A dumpster inferno indeed.”
I left my untouched breakfast, retreating to the solitary safety of a scalding shower. Under the hot stream, I alternated between contemplating potential culprits of last night’s break-in and their possible motivations and wondering if Shockley would seek me out at today’s celebrations.
Once cleaned and dressed in my prescribed outfit—a thankfully simple tunic and pants in the silver and navy of the House of Fuiq—I returned to our common area to find Matt and Azo’lah already returned.
“Morning, hot stuff,” Matt said. Though he wasn’t an official attendant to the wedding, Fleetwood had a matching aviator’s jacket commissioned specially for him for today so that he would fit in with our group. Beneath his perfectly tousled curls, he was as clear-eyed as usual, which was staggering considering how inebriated he was the night before.
I held up my middle finger in greeting, even as my chest twinged with fondness. While I wished that my escapade with Shockley was not the topic of conversation, there was something comforting about Matt’s gently teasing tone. It felt like family.
Chester whistled loudly as he and Fleetwood exited their rooms, dressed similarly to me. “Well, don’t we clean up nicely?”
“Duh,” Fleetwood said as she linked arms with her Favored. “Our groups’ general attractiveness is one of our top three best assets.”
“What are the other two?” I already regretted asking the question.
Fleetwood straightened. “Our exceptional taste in music that slaps and our ability to strike fear in the souls of men.”
Matt tilted his head consideringly and hummed.
“Are we prepared to leave?” Azo’lah interjected, her voice as rigid as her spine.
“Where are we going exactly?” I asked.
“Destyrian weddings are days-long affairs,” Chester replied. I nodded—from the research I had done prior to our trip, I had read about weddings that lasted whole binary cycles. “Today is when the newly joined couple walks through the town center to receive blessings and felicitations from those who could not attend the ceremony. It’s basically a super dignified parade followed by a lot of undignified eating, drinking, and dancing.”
“We must attend,” Azo’lah said, “and we must look as though nothing is amiss. We do not know who invaded Gretchen’s space, nor what they sought. Until we have answers, we remain unbothered by outsiders.” Her judgemental gaze burned a hole in my cheek.
“Fortified we stand,” Fleetwood agreed, skipping over to her cousin and linking arms. She wrapped her other arm around Milyna’s waist and drew the two Myax toward the exit. “Come along, beloved cousin and friend, you shall be my escorts on this most joyous of days. Most Favored, Chester, you, Gretchen, and Matt should keep your heads down, stick to the guidelines—”
“Sidelines,” Chester corrected with a gentle grin. “Roger that.” He grabbed my hand and nudged me toward Matt. With my free arm, I mimicked Fleetwood and wound it through Matt’s.
Fleetwood sighed dreamily as she, Azo’lah, and Milyna led our group out of our chambers and down the hall. “Cousin, do you think there will be more jli’nah? It is my favorite!”
I shot Chester a questioning frown as we fell into step behind them, and the rest of our Myax guard, behind us. “We need to stay close together and look united not only for the sake of appearances but for protection,” he explained, “but we also need to make it look like we aren’t staying close together for protection.”
“And, if the humans stick together and to the back a little bit, “ Matt added with a shrug, “the better to figure out there’s a motive if someone makes a move today.”
“So we’re trying to draw someone out?” I asked, flabbergasted that Azo’lah would agree to a plan that put Fleetwood into such immediate danger.
Matt shook his head, his rich brown eyes sharpening. “No, we’re issuing a challenge.”
Chester’s hand in mine squeezed. My heart warmed at my friend’s unspoken promise to continue to stay at my side in the face of potential danger.
We exited the palace and walked the winding, cobbled path into the city center, where the parading couple was already receiving gifts and blessings from their citizens. The sky was cloudless and bright, the twin suns shone merrily overhead as though they, too, had been invited to the day’s celebration. The Destyrians of Virat, though a bit subdued compared to the night of our arrival, were no less sincere and joyful for their princess’s wedded bliss. Flower crowns were donned, and multi-colored streamers danced on the gentle breeze. Cheers for the new couple rose from the crowds every few minutes, and music followed us down every street. The energy was infectious. As we joined the crowd of spectators, it was almost easy to forget that someone had broken into my room with a potentially nefarious purpose the night before.
“So,” Matt said, “care to explain what happened with you and a certain mercenary last night?”
“Ugh, no, not you too,” I groaned.
Chester poked me in the ribs. “Come on, you know you want to tell us.”
“Hey,” I feebly swatted his hand away, “aren’t we in the middle of some sort of dangerous political intrigue? Is now really the time to talk about this?”
Matt stopped in front of a tent selling zlatah and fruit stuffed pastries. “Pretty sure acting like nothing is afoot and talking about this is all part of the political intrigue.”
“Yes, yes, that,” Chester agreed, emphatically pointing at Matt while leaning into my shoulder. He lowered his voice, “So in the name of Fleetwood’s safety, tell us whether or not you saw Shockley in all of his—”
I snorted. “Absolutely not.”
“I haven’t been on a date since that cute landscaper a couple months back, and that didn’t go anywhere,” Chester pleaded. “Give me something!”
“Yeah, tell us.” Matt nudged me with his hip as we moved towards the front of the line.
I raised a skeptical eyebrow at Matt. The most reserved of our crew, I wasn’t sure why he would care about something like this. “You want to hear about this?”
“Absolutely,” Matt said. “I hate drama in my own life, but when it’s happening to other people, I love to hear about it. And what happened last night between you, Shockley, and Azo’lah—”
“Hot mess express,” Chester finished gleefully.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Azo’lah, Fleetwood, and Milyna, arms still linked as Fleetwood chattered amiably with a fellow Destyrian royal dressed in orange. As though she felt my gaze, Azo’lah turned to me, her eyebrows lifting in question. My cheeks flared with embarrassment from the night before as I shook my head to ward off her concern. “I hate you both,” I whispered to Matt and Chester as we reached the front of our line.
“No, you don’t,” Chester replied as Matt ordered us each a drink and a pastry. Unlinking ourselves, we accepted our food and found a small outcropping of tables beside the fountain where Fleetwood, Azo’lah, and Milyna sat watching children dancing with streamers. We claimed a table directly in Azo’lah’s sightline, our Myax guard staying close but maintaining an inconspicuous distance.
“You don’t have to tell us anything,” Chester said before taking an over-sized bite of pastry.
Still not hungry but wanting to keep my hands busy, I ripped my pastry into small pieces. “I know. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s that there’s not much to tell.”
“Really?” Matt asked, swirling his glass of zlatah. “Why am I weirdly disappointed in Shockley for not having as much game as I thought he did?”
“No, he definitely has game,” I corrected. Even though it felt nice and normal to be talking about something as silly and trivial as this with friends, I could feel my flush from my ears down to my chest. “We were interrupted before follow through on said game could happen.”
Chester winced in sympathy. “That sucks.”
“It’s fine,” I said, distracting myself from how much it wasn’t fine by downing half my drink. I subtly scanned the crowd for Shockley and Tyler. But Matt, Chester, and I were still the only humans present. “It was a weird thing to even happen. The fact that it was interrupted by Azo’lah for an even weirder reason honestly shouldn’t surprise me at this point.”
Matt held up his glass. “Life in outer space, am I right?”
“Hell yeah.” Chester and I clinked our glasses against his.
“Do you guys have theories about,” Chester wiggled his fingers for emphasis, “you know?”
“No theories,” Matt said darkly. “A few thousand questions.”
A few thousand questions sounded about right. Though at this point, regardless of who broke into my room and their motivations for doing so, I had the distinct feeling that if we ever found the culprit, we weren’t going to like their answers.
“Greetings, fellow royals!” Fleetwood strode into the palace’s cathedral-sized banquet hall, arms spread wide. Her elaborately embroidered split front gown over pants reflected the amber light, bouncing fractal reflections off of the shocked Destyrian faces like a living Disco ball. I did my best to hide behind Azo’lah as the eyes of the two dozen Destyrians present turned to us. Tonight’s matrimonial event, the second to last of the whole ordeal, was a nobility (and guests) only banquet.
I had survived the anxiety of the wedding just to find myself once again surrounded by important Destyrians in close quarters.
Azo’lah, regal in her formal Myax uniform, turned to the head of the long rectangular table, carved with centuries worth of blessings in ancient glyphs and laiden beneath a feast that would put American Thanksgiving to shame. “Apologies for our tardiness. We had urgent matters to address,” Azo’lah said, bowing to our host, Eastern Auhtula Kero.
Chester and I hurriedly imitated her, bending at the ‘waist. It did not go unnoticed by those assembled that Fleetwood did not bow. Whispers chased us as we traversed the beautifully tiled floor. What asshole put us at the far end of the room, giving us the longest, most embarrassingly visible walk from the door?
“So urgent that you are not only late but apparently are on duty, Azo’lah Myax?” Auhtula Xia’rali of the Western continent asked.
“Indeed. I regret that my duty to my station must come before my enjoyment as a guest. Events have necessitated it,” Azo’lah said, keeping her eyes trained on Fleetwood, even as she answered our hostess.
“Hello again, Auhtul Cal’ton!” Fleetwood paused by his chair, raising a fist. Cal’ton grinned, ignoring the scandalized stares, and bumped it, complete with ridiculous explosion noises.
“What’s good, your Majesty?” Chester asked, accepting his own fist bump from the young ruler. I just waved awkwardly, practically tripping the last few feet to one of the empty seats at the end of the table, just across from the teenage Auhtul. I guessed the seating chart was somehow another snub to both our parties, which wasn’t having the intended effect.
“What events could you possibly mean, Azo’lah Myax?” Auhtula Pola’s envoy lounged in her masterfully wrought chair, trying too hard to look imperious and miserably failing. Pola was young, and with no spouse and no offspring, had sent her younger sister, Fulyiti Li’al. The Fulyiti was even younger than Cal’ton though one could hardly tell from her face’s severe lines and intimidating stare.
“Oh, pish,” Fleetwood fell in her high-backed seat, “This traditional royal dinner only exists so we can vibe with each other and share how stoked we are for the couple.”
Azo’lah smoothly maneuvered behind me, offering me the seat to the left of Chester and Fleetwood, and therefore furthest from the proverbial royal wolves. Azo’lah did not take her seat. She remained standing at Fleetwood’s shoulder, unlike any of the other Myax present, who were stationed on the outer walls of the room.
“Oh, do sit down, Azo-zo,” Fleetwood said. Her eyes were pleading and wide, a childish moue on her silver-painted lips. “Everything’s going to be as fine as the royal couple over here. Sit, cousin. That’s an order.”
Azo’lah reluctantly took the final empty seat to my left.
“Do you mind speaking Destyrian, Fulyiti Kezira?” the newly wedded Eastern Fulyiti asked. “My wife does not have a translator implant.”
“Of course,” Fleetwood’s voice took on the same vaguely British, filtered quality from our first night here, “I will also be able to translate whatever my companions say.” She smiled guilelessly at the rest of the assembly. “Apologies for those who will have to hear things twice.”
I immediately resolved not to say anything for the duration of dinner. Murmurs of conversation began to spark at the table. If a stranger walked in, one might’ve thought we were the guests of honor with all the looks we were getting.
“That’s an unusual hairstyle, Fuyiti Fleetwood,” Auhtul Cal’ton said brightly. “It suits you.”
Fleetwood patted her signature twin buns like she forgot she’d—deliberately, I now expected—rejected the fashionable Destyrian hairstyles that adorned every other head around the table.
“Thank you, they’re called Space Buns on earth. They’re quite stylish and smart, like my Favored.” She giggled girlishly and booped Chester on the nose. He frowned. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one finding this behavior a bit much in public, even for Fleetwood.
“And your other companion? She is not of your house,” Fulyiti Li’al sneered from Auhtula Kero’s right.
Fleetwood paused with her fork halfway to her lips. “That’s Gretchen,” she said as if my first name was self-explanatory. A wind of whispers swept the table. “She's our royal archaeologist. But of course, you already know that otherwise, your sister wouldn’t have forced Auhtula Kero to request her presence at the wedding, nor would you have come to our empty quarters, looking for her last night.”
My chest tightened at how easily Fleetwood lobbed those accusations like water balloons down the table.
I glanced at Chester. His mouth was a stiff, neutral line, his eyes slightly narrowed. Beneath the table, I watched as he reached for Fleetwood’s hand and squeezed.
Fulyiti Li’al jutted her chin in the air, her dark eyes blazing with indignation. “I did no such thing!”
“Oh. Well, someone did,” Fleetwood called. “Judging by the state of the room, I thought they were just attempting the Earth custom of trying to leave a note but weren’t sure whether or not you were supposed to hide it and just gave up. Regardless, it took quite a while to clean up the mess after the parade, which is why we’re so late.”
At the head of the table, Auhtula Kero stood, staring at Fleetwood in shock. “Fulyiti Kezira, What exactly are you saying?”
“She’s saying that someone broke into our chambers last night and ransacked the rooms of our Royal Archaeologist,” Azo’lah leveled her with a frigid glare, “who I might add is under the protection of our House.”
“Azo’lah!” Fleetwood reached across Chester and I and shoved Azo’lah lightly, as though they were playfully gossiping and not both openly accusing rulers of subterfuge. “I told you to let me handle this. It wasn’t that big of a deal. It’s not like someone was trying to assassinate other members of the royal house during a sacred event.”
Murmurs erupted like the soft thunder that heralded the beginning of a storm.
“Gretchen’s room is right next to Fulyiti Kezira’s,” Azo’lah informed our host over the din. “And Auhtul Cal’ton’s chambers are next to ours. Perhaps, someone was looking to take out the representative of one of the continents neutral to Auhtula Pola’s policies.”
“If you are implying that our delegation had anything to do with this,” Fulyiti Li’al said, sitting forward in her chair, “you have my word, on the honor of Auhtula Pola, that I had no knowledge of this.”
“I am beginning to think that neither is worth much,” Auhtul Cal’ton said lightly. “Fulyiti Fleetwood Mercury, would you like some croq’a?” Auhtul Cal’ton offered Fleetwood his cup. The room was suddenly so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I had no idea what was going on, but it was definitely big.
“The seven stars honor me, as you honor me, Auhtul,” Fleetwood Mercury said, accepting the cup and taking a small sip. Conversation broke out again as Fleetwood proffered her cup to Cal’ton in turn.
“What just happened?” I murmured to Azo’lah.
“Fleetwood just secured the alliance,” Azo’lah murmured. I looked down the table to where Fulyiti Li’al and Auhtula Xi’rali looked mutinous and faint, respectively.
I turned toward where a beaming Auhtul Cal’ton raised his glass. “To bromance!”
I scraped my fork against my plate. “I can’t eat anymore.”
“You haven’t eaten anything,” Fleetwood pointed out, most unhelpfully.
Chester took my plate and dumped my food onto his. “I got you, Gretch.”
From my right, Azo’lah silently snatched my plate from Chester and refilled it with assorted fruit. “Eat something, Myaxi.”
“I don’t think I can.” I rubbed at my temples, the tension from last night’s royal dinner still arcing across my skull and down my spine. I had never had a migraine last this long before, and I could not wait to go back to Thal, where prying eyes didn’t follow me everywhere I went. “While I appreciate a multi-day festival that features more meals than I can count—”
“It’ll be good to get outta here?” Chester guessed.
I nodded. “And eat normal portions again.”
“Normal’s overrated,” Fleetwood said as she ravenously scooped food into her mouth, her cheeks bulging. The Destyrians situated at the tables closest to us were staring. I wasn’t sure if it was because they had heard rumors about last night’s dinner or because of Fleetwood’s unrefined manner of eating during the final wedding activity, a farewell breakfast. Sat beneath a shimmering tent of gold in the gardens, all of the attendees of note were gathered around tiny tables, consuming a sumptuous meal while staring conspicuously at our cohort.
“You got that right, Fulyiti,” Shockley said as he grabbed the chair on Fleetwood’s right, spun it around, and sat on it backward. The whispers that surrounded us intensified. Shockley grinned across the circular table at me. “Morning, Name Police. You’re looking particularly annoyed this fine day.”
“Where is Tyler?” Fleetwood asked, her eyes skating around the tent in search of the man himself and his neon snapback.
“Getting the ship ready,” Shockley said. “We’re about to head out.”
“Then do so, Shockley,” Azo’lah spun her fork like it was a deadly weapon. Then again, in her hands, it probably was.
“Don’t worry, Myax, I’ll be out of your lustrous hair in a moment,” Shockley said, his eyes never leaving mine. “I just came to say goodbye to everyone’s favorite neighborhood archaeologist.”
“Well, you’ve said it,” Azo’lah growled. “Now, leave.”
I smacked the back of my palm against her side. “Azo’lah, quit.” I pushed back from my seat. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna say goodbye.”
Chester’s eyebrows danced suggestively. “Sure you are.”
Shockley sprung from his seat. “Chester, until next time. Myax, I assume you’d prefer if I never spoke to you again.” Shockley stooped down and pressed a noisy kiss to Fleetwood’s cheek. “Fulyiti, a pleasure, as always.”
I stomped down on the sharp flare of jealousy in the pit of my stomach as Fleetwood smiled up at Shockley. “Tell Tyler I’ll miss him big bunches.”
“Of course,” Shockley promised, as he held out a hand gesturing me out of the tent.
“Milyna, go with them,” Azo’lah directed.
I opened my mouth to argue when I felt Shockley’s palm on the small of my back. “Don’t fight it,” he whispered in my ear. “You don’t want more eyes on Fleetwood than necessary, right?”
I exhaled sharply at his astute observation as Milyna fell in step behind us. Shockley led me to a small alcove at the edge of the garden, a wall of neatly trimmed bushes that reached well past our heads, blocking us from view on three sides. Milyna winked at me before she positioned herself, with her back to us, on the fourth.
“So, uh,” I cleared my throat and stared at one of the bushes, overwhelmingly bashful, “you and Tyler are leaving?”
Shockley gently grabbed my chin, directing my gaze to meet his smiling eyes. “Yeah. Time to pick up Nyc’arra and the new guy and go towards our next payday.”
“Well, if you have people waiting for you, don’t let me keep you,” I said, even though I hoped that he would stay just a moment longer.
With his palm now cupping my jaw, he drew me closer. “If I didn’t know you better, Borowicz, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”
“Me? Trying to get rid of you? You’re the one with the schedule to—”
He interrupted me with a rather thorough kiss.
When I finally came up for air, there was a distant buzzing sound—either insects or Milyna’s laughter, I couldn’t tell.
Shockley grinned and released me from his hold. “It was good seeing you, Name Police.”
“You too,” I admitted, tucking a stray hair behind my ear.
“Well,” Shockley ducked forward and kissed me one last time, “until next time, babe.”
I stood there dumbfounded. “Babe?” I called indignantly after his retreating back. I thought about going after him to tell him off about the stupid pet name, but Azo’lah, Fleetwood, and Chester were striding toward me.
Azo’lah’s face was set in a frown, even more profound than usual. “If you are done with your goodbye,” she said, “then it is time for us to meet Matt at the ship.”
“Shouldn’t we say goodbye to Auhtula Kero? Or at least the newlyweds?” I asked, taken aback by Azo’lah’s sudden need to depart. I certainly was ready to leave the Eastern Continent, but Azo’lah’s eschewing of tradition didn’t sit well with me.
“Fleetwood has already bid farewell to the Crown Fulyiti and her new bride,” Azo’lah said, directing our group out of the garden.
“Oh, well, then,” I fell into step beside Chester. Beneath my breath, I whispered, “What’s going on?”
Things had been tense since last night’s dinner debacle, but Azo’lah’s spine was now so taut it looked liable to snap.
“Azo’lah’s Ran’dyl has been going off non-stop all morning,” Chester replied as we left the palace grounds and wended our way toward where Matt and the Killer Qu’een awaited us. I hadn’t noticed her accepting incoming messages throughout breakfast. Seemingly reading my mind, Chester continued. “She had silenced it, but the incoming comms stacked up. They’re all from her mothers.”
My eyes widened.
“I’m sure it's nothing.” Chester sounded like he was pretty sure it was something. “I think we’re all just on edge a little bit extra after this whole wedding crisis.”
Right on cue, Azo’lah looked down at her wrist and taped it, ignoring another incoming comm.
As the Qu’een came into view, the gangplank lowered, Matt and our three other Myax guards waiting for us in the doorway. Fleetwood took off at a run. “Matty Matt!”
Matt opened his arms as Fleetwood barreled into him. He laughed as she lifted him off his feet. Once returned to the ground, he turned to face the rest of us, and his smile fell. “Jeez, who died?”
“No one,” I said.
“Yet,” Azo’lah added as she stomped up the gangplank, Fleetwood wedged securely between her and Milyna.
“That’s not ominous,” Matt said, turning his wide eyes to Chester and me.
“Let’s get out of here,” Chester said, leading the way inside the ship. The Myax followed us in and raised the gangplank as Matt made his way to the cockpit.
Chester and I joined Fleetwood and Azo’lah in the common room. I dropped into the red egg chair. I stared at the floor and forced myself not to miss Shockley.
The engine rumbled to life, and a moment later, we were airborne, streaking back toward Thal.
“Homeward bound,” Fleetwood hummed happily as she leaned against Azo’lah on the lip-shaped couch. Securely in the air, Azo’lah seemed to unclench, if only a little bit.
From his spot on the floor, Chester said, “Maybe after we debrief with Auhtula Ty’uria, we can do a movie night? We could—”
Fleetwood’s Ran’dyl cut off Chester with a guitar riff and a wailing woman. Azo’lah glared at Fleetwood’s wrist.
Fleetwood tapped her Ran’dyl. She smiled as busts of two Destyrian women popped up before her. “Aunts!” she greeted them.
Azo’lah’s mothers. These were Azo’lah’s mothers. I straightened awkwardly in the egg chair. I could only see the backs of their heads—one with long silver hair, the other with blue.
“Mothers,” Azo’lah greeted them, her voice weighed down with fatigue. “We are on our way home from the wedding. Whatever you need must wait until after—”
“It’s Zerin,” one of Azo’lah’s mother’s said.
Fleetwood’s grin widened. “Excellent.”
“Of course, it is,” Azo’lah snorted. “What’s he done now?”
One of Azo’lah’s mothers said, “He’s missing.”
Azo’lah’s face froze in a horrifying grimace.
“Please, Azo’lah,” her mother pleaded. “We need your help finding your brother.”
There was a long moment as my brain scrambled to keep up with the conversation.
“I—” Azo’lah’s eyes darted to Fleetwood. Fleetwood nodded and Azo’lah inhaled sharply. “We’ll have our pilot change course. We can be there before the end of the day.”
Chester leaped from the floor. “I’ll give Matt the new coordinates.”
With another promise of our imminent arrival, Fleetwood hung up on her aunts.
Azo’lah scrubbed at her forehead and sighed. “I cannot believe this.”
“I can,” Fleetwood said. “Zerin always had the best timing, even when we were growing up.”
Azo’lah shook her head and stood. “I shall inform my Myax sisters of our change of plans.”
“Yeah, you should tell them,” I said watching her leave the room, wondering if her brother looked anything like her. I jerked in my seat as my brain finally caught up with the situation. I rocketed from my seat and took off after her. “Holy shit, Azo’lah! You have a brother?”