Empathically, I felt him beaming with pride and knew he had spoken with sincerity. It made me reflect on a time in the not-too-distant past when being a source of pride for Alpha Prime would have meant less than nothing to me. Now, however, our relationship had dramatically changed, and – although knowing he was proud of me made me glad – I didn’t quite know how to express it. Thus, I merely mumbled a brief mental “Thanks,” and then broke the telepathic connection.
Chapter 15
After the telepathic conversation with my father, I only stayed long enough to confirm with Mouse and BT that they would both be in attendance at the party. After receiving their assurances, I teleported.
I reappeared outside a small apparel shop that specialized in men’s formal wear. I dashed inside and emerged a few minutes later holding two tuxedos – one for me and one for Gramps. (Once it had become apparent that my grandparents’ little shindig had escalated into a formal event, Gramps had insisted that the two of us get new attire for the occasion.) With black tie vestments now in hand, I teleported back to the embassy.
I popped up in the main living room. I laid my grandfather’s tux across the back of a sofa, then mentally reached out to let him know where to find it. After receiving a telepathic acknowledgment from him, I teleported to my room, where I proceeded to hang my own tux in the closet. Once that was done, I felt that I was finally caught up on all my current tasks.
Taking advantage of the momentary break, I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on the bed. Bearing in mind everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours – from the Dream Machine mission to visiting Paramount to my debriefing (not to mention getting ready for the upcoming gala) – I felt like I’d barely had a moment’s peace. Physically I wasn’t particularly tired, but mentally I was exhausted.
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, simply trying to relax. It seemed as though everything in my life had been going at a hundred miles per hour lately, and my strained relationship with Electra wasn’t helping. However, there really wasn’t a lot of blame I could lay at her feet; she was dealing with an incredibly awkward situation, and handling it with more poise than could reasonably be expected. She really was special, and it suddenly occurred to me that I should probably do something to convey that to her.
Maybe flowers, I thought, yawning. Or candy…or…
*****
I awoke with something of a start. I had clearly dozed off, and – judging from the dimness of the light coming through my window – had slept for several hours. Checking the time on my cell phone, I noted that it was nearly time for us to leave for the gala. There was maybe half an hour left before we were supposed to depart.
For a moment, I wondered why no one had bothered to wake me – and then almost laughed at my own oversight. There was probably little concern that I would be late, even if I woke up only five minutes before our anticipated departure time. As if needing to prove this, I shifted into super speed and zipped into the bathroom. Two minutes later, I had not only emerged – freshly showered and well-groomed – but was also dressed in my tuxedo and ready to go.
As I prepared to leave my room, I spent a moment glancing in the dresser mirror to make sure I was as presentable as I thought.
Hair combed, I said to myself. Tie straight.
Out of the blue, my stomach rumbled loudly, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. (And in truth, I was feeling a mite peckish.) However, recalling that there was to be a lavish spread at the gala, I decided to forego eating anything for the nonce and instead tweaked my internal physiological systems so that I wouldn’t be bothered by hunger pangs. Satisfied now that neither my appearance nor growling belly would cause me any embarrassment, I left and went downstairs.
I made my way to the main living room, but didn’t see anyone. My grandfather’s tux was gone, indicating that he had retrieved it at some point while I was napping. Reaching out empathically, I sensed my mother and grandparents in their respective rooms, presumably still getting dressed. Myshtal, on the other hand, was on the ground floor with me. Rather than wait alone, I decided to see what she was up to.
I found her near the parlor, standing in front of an alcove that was home to an oddity: a weird contraption that looked something like a medieval suit of armor with supple, spider-like limbs.
I frowned, as I always seemed to these days around the bizarre device. Its formal name was the Beobona Onufrot (or simply “Beobona” for short), and within its frame was an incredibly ancient and unbelievably powerful relic – the Beobona Jewel.
The Beobona had actually saved my life on several occasions – most recently during my trip to Indigo’s homeworld of Caeles – so one would think that I would be happy to have it around. But, in truth, there was a very real possibility that the Beobona had manipulated events (and perhaps even me) for its own ends. Thus, I tended to be wary around it to some extent.
As I watched, I saw Myshtal reach towards the Beobona’s torso, an area that appeared to be a smooth metal surface but which would occasionally spiral open to reveal the Beobona Jewel inside. On this occasion, however, it stayed shut.
I must have made some noise, because Myshtal suddenly spun in my direction. As she did so, I took note for the first time of what she was wearing.
She was sporting a floor-length, halter neck dress that was navy blue in color and exceptionally form-fitting. The halter itself seemed to be made of some type of bejeweled material that was an amalgam of silvery metal and cloth, while the bodice was adorned with tiny gemstones that – amazingly – appeared to move in some unknown fashion. Finally, her hair was done up in something akin to French waterfall braids and adorned with a goddess headpiece that culminated in an exotic azure jewel that rested on the center of her forehead. All in all – even without a crown – she looked like nothing less than a fairy-tale princess.
“Reminiscing?” I asked, gesturing towards the Beobona as I walked to her, trying to sound casual.
Myshtal smiled at me. “Not exactly. I was just thinking that – even though I saw it before – I never actually got to hold the Beobona Jewel. I couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like.” She looked at me expectantly, causing me to understand that she was hoping for a response.
I reflected for a moment. “The first time I held it, it didn’t really feel like anything out of the ordinary, but there was a piece of it missing at the time. Later, after it became whole, I picked up a kind of…energy.”
To be frank, I was downplaying the truth. What I had actually sensed in the Beobona Jewel (after it became replete) was almost indescribable – an infinite and unfathomable power so intense that it boggled the mind.
Myshtal gave me a skeptical look, plainly aware that I was holding something back. “There has to be more to it than that. I know what the Beobona is capable of.”
Her comment caught me off guard. I had forgotten that Myshtal was more than just a pretty face; she was fairly astute.
“Alright, I may have understated the facts,” I admitted. “In simple terms, what I felt when I held it was power – pure, potent, and without peer.”
“And you didn’t feel comfortable telling me that?”
I shrugged. “Very few people are truly aware of what the Beobona is capable of. If it ever became common knowledge…”
“Wars have been fought for far less,” Myshtal noted as I trailed off, clearly picking up on my meaning. “I can see why you would try to deemphasize its might. I shudder to think what might have happened ha
d Vicra gained control of it, in addition to his time travel abilities.”
I nodded, but didn’t immediately comment. Vicra had been a Caelesian prince who had used time-travel technology to further his own ambitions. After purportedly traveling to the future and seeing me sitting on the Caelesian throne, he had tried to kill me (and probably came closer to doing so than anyone ever had – even managing to temporarily strip me of my powers). But although Vicra had managed to get his hands on the Beobona, I seriously doubted that he could have wielded its power in the manner Myshtal imagined. It was the Beobona that controlled and manipulated – not the other way around. In some ways, it was almost as if the thing were alive.
“Anyway,” I said, changing the subject. “I don’t think I apologized for kind of deserting you last night in the middle of the movie.”
“No apologies necessary,” she assured me. “Once Electra came by, it was only natural that you’d want to spend time with her. Plus, I heard about our unexpected visitor from your grandparents.”
“Yeah, it turned out to be a late night, so thanks for understanding,” I said. Then, ruminating on another issue, I added, “By the way, did you change clothes last night?”
She frowned, obviously confused. “Excuse me?”
“When you came to the door to ask about pausing the movie, you seemed to be wearing different attire than when we’d been in the theater room.”
“Oh,” she muttered. “I didn’t exactly change, but my attire may have looked different.”
“Huh?” I spouted in confusion.
“I should probably explain, and hopefully not sound too vain in the process,” she said, then paused for a moment before continuing. “As you know, due to my position as Caelesian royalty and my relationship to the queen, I’ve grown up with a fair amount of excess. I’ve always had an overabundance of anything I wanted, from toys to jewelry to clothes.”
“I can understand that,” I assured her. “We have people with similar upbringings here on Earth.” (Of course, Vestibule immediately came to mind.)
“But not you.” She uttered it as more of a statement than a question.
I burst into laughter. “Hardly. It’s only within the past six months or so that my royal lineage has had any effect on my life at all. The kind of regal lifestyle you’re talking about is almost completely foreign to my personal experience.”
“I see,” she said as a pensive look crossed her face, and I could sense uncertainty brewing in her.
“But please,” I insisted, “go on with what you were saying.”
She stared at me for a moment, then let out a deep breath before continuing. “In brief, it has to do with my clothes. Because Earth is essentially an alien culture for me, I wanted to make sure I fit in as much as possible – including having the proper attire for any occasion. However, I couldn’t bring everything from the homeworld that I would have liked; there simply wasn’t enough room on the ship. So I made a compromise of sorts.”
She paused for a second, prompting me to ask, “In what way?”
“I don’t think you have it on your planet, but there’s technology on Caeles that can be infused into garments to make it sensitive to the wearer’s temperament and frame of mind. It’s exorbitantly expensive, but the end result is raiment that can change or alter itself to suit one’s disposition.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, catching on. “Are you saying that you have ‘mood’ clothing?”
She frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”
I took a moment to explain the concept of mood rings to her – novelty items that allegedly change color based on the emotional state of the person wearing it.
“Yes,” she finally agreed. “I’m speaking of a similar reaction, but for attire.”
“So,” I summed up, “you’re saying that rather than transport enough clothes to fill a department store, you brought along some garments that can become almost anything you need them to be.”
“Correct.”
“So when you came to the door last night, your clothes had changed based on your mood.”
“Right again.”
“So were you sleepy or something?”
Myshtal’s brow creased in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“When you came outside, I think you were wearing something like a nightgown. Your clothes had changed to that because you were getting ready to go to bed, right?”
“Ah…no,” Myshtal replied, casting her eyes sheepishly towards the ground.
“No?” I repeated, somewhat surprised. “Then I don’t understand. Why would your clothing take on that appearance if you weren’t about to turn in?”
Myshtal suddenly looked at me with an odd expression on her face. Emotionally, I could sense something like anxiety within her – butterflies in her stomach and an abundance of nervousness. Her lip trembled, slightly, but then she steeled herself and prepared to speak.
However, before she could utter a word, a familiar voice cut in.
“There you are, boy,” muttered Gramps.
I turned to find that my grandfather had entered the room. Dressed as I was in a tuxedo, he actually cut a rather dashing figure, and it was easy to imagine what he must have looked like in his prime.
Gramps turned to Myshtal. “I hope you don’t mind, Princess, but I was hoping to have a quick word with my grandson.”
“Not at all,” Myshtal replied, sounding almost relieved before hurriedly stepping from the room.
After she was gone, Gramps gave me a once-over, eyeing me from head to toe.
“Very nice,” he said, brushing a piece of lint from my shoulder. “You look good.”
“Runs in the family,” I replied with a wink, causing us both to chortle. “I’m sure Indigo’s return dashed a lot of women’s hopes.”
“Ha!” Gramps guffawed. “I took myself off the market long before your grandmother came back, so any hopes got dashed decades ago.” He then took a moment to clear his throat, and I noted that his demeanor became more somber as he added, “However, that does segue into what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I nodded. “Okay. What is it?”
“We really haven’t talked in depth about this situation you have with Myshtal. It basically seemed like a business arrangement – a deal you had to make in order to get you and Indigo back here. That being the case, it appeared to be a reasonable choice, and I didn’t fault you for it. In fact, it showed a level of maturity and decision-making that would have been beyond most people your age.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled. This was all stuff he had told me before, so it really wasn’t news. Obviously there was more on his mind, and it didn’t take him long to get to it.
“Anyway,” my grandfather droned, “I didn’t think much of it. I mean, it struck me as peculiar, but apparently it’s standard operating procedure for Caelesians. Plus, it wasn’t bothering your grandmother, so I saw no need to worry.”
“So what’s changed?”
He gave me a curious look, but – rather than answer my question – asked one of his own. “So what did you think about breakfast?”
“Uh…” I mumbled, not sure where this was going. “It was okay, I guess. I enjoyed it.”
“I meant, what did you think about Myshtal preparing it?”
“Oh. She did fine. I mean, it was essentially eggs and toast – kind of hard to mess that up.”
My grandfather let out a weary sigh, and I sensed a slight bit of exasperation in him. “Let me ask another way: how many times do you think Myshtal has prepared breakfast for anyone, including herself?”
I frowned. “What – in her life?” I let the question roll around in my head for a second. “As a Caelesian princess, probably a handful at most, since that kind of stuff is usually done by servants. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if today was the first time she ever touched a skillet.”
“That’s precisely my point,” Gramps stated with a nod.
I stared at him in confusion for a moment, still no
t understanding. “What exactly are you getting at?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, a wistful expression settled across his features, and after a moment he said, “Years ago, shortly after we met, your grandmother decided to do some ironing for me one day. It wasn’t an activity she was familiar with to any degree or something she’d shown a knack for. Still, it came as a bit of surprise when she burned a hole in my favorite shirt.”
Needless to say, a laughing fit took hold of me at that juncture. Telepathically, I sent my grandfather an image of himself wearing an expensive designer shirt riddled with scorched holes.
“Hilarious,” Gramps said with a deadpan expression, although I could tell that he really was amused. “And while you’re yucking it up, you’ll be happy to know that’s exactly what happened – I wore the shirt.”
“What?” I nearly exclaimed, his admission cutting short my mirth. “You did?”
“Of course. Because I knew what it represented.”
“Which was what – that alien princesses are terrible at domestic labor?”
“Well, that’s a given,” he admitted with a smile. “But what it really showed was how your grandmother felt about me.”
“How’s that?”
“Because in ironing my shirt, she did something for me that she didn’t ordinarily do for anyone, even herself. In essence, she was saying, ‘This I don’t do, but I’ll do it for you.’”
I blinked as it suddenly started to dawn on me what my grandfather was talking about.
“It’s a symbolic gesture among Caelesian royalty,” he continued. “Something you do for someone you consider special – usually an action or activity you wouldn’t normally undertake. Doing their laundry, for instance, or washing their clothes.”
“Or cooking them breakfast,” I mumbled, the scales falling from my eyes. “But we don’t have a bunch of servants running around doing any of that stuff, so eventually she’d have to do it anyway – if only for herself. Why can’t this morning’s breakfast simply be an example of Myshtal being a good houseguest?”
“Because your grandmother says that the person performing the act traditionally makes certain kinesic expressions, and she noticed Myshtal engaging in some of them as we ate.”
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