Premonition: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 7)

by Valerie Mikles

  “I want to stay close to the Prince of Health,” she said, standing from the little stool, then putting a hand out to the wall to support herself. After spending the morning telling the doctor she was fine, Jeremiah worried about this shift.

  “Then we’ll have the Prince stay here,” he said.

  “Have you talked to them?” she asked, nodding toward the courtyard.

  “Corin is with them. They’ve been content and I didn’t want to impose unnecessary formality. I’ve been trying to keep their ship secure, get them fresh water, and review Protocol for foreign relations. It’s not something we do every day.”

  “It’s not something we never do,” she said, giving him an encouraging smile. Then she began panting again and looked out the window. “They have a cursed one. She looked at me, and I’ve never felt anything like it. We had the same premonition.”

  “You haven’t been near them,” he said.

  “She was there,” Collette said, pointing down to the courtyard. “If she is cursed, then they have experience with Questre. They understand what their ship’s name means. They have chosen to worship those creatures.”

  “A name can just be a name,” he said. “They don’t speak our language.”

  “Dr. Gossard said that other cursed were falling sick like me,” Collette continued. “All the cursed. All of us who can see.”

  “What did you see?” he asked, coming behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist so that she wouldn’t fall over. The Prince of Health said she was upset, but hadn’t said why. He’d put her back in bed at least twice. “What was the premonition you shared?”

  “The return of the spirits. The destruction of Nola,” Collette said, pitching forward and landing on Corin’s bed. She rolled onto her side and hugged her knees, her skin getting splotchy again as she remembered. “The future looks like death. All the good is gone.”

  “Do you want them out of the city?” Jeremiah asked. “I can make them leave right now. I know they want to trade, but all we have to offer is wool.”

  “Which would be fine,” Corin sang, gliding into the room with a dreamy smile on his face. He sat at his piano, and for a moment, Jeremiah thought he might play. “The Ambassador of Rocan says that fabric is one of their great needs.”

  “Wool?” Jeremiah repeated doubtfully.

  “He has worn hand-me-downs his entire life. He never had new garment before he joined Oriana’s crew. A single pair of sheep would change his city,” Corin said. The spirit-name rolled off his tongue easily, and Jeremiah cringed. Corin frowned at his mother. “Is something wrong with your bed?”

  Collette had been putting on airs all afternoon, but she wasn’t even trying to look strong now. She still laughed at his jab. Jeremiah sat next to her and stroked her hair, being careful of the colored wax streaks.

  “What’s your impression of the travelers?” he asked Corin.

  “They’re nervous, but excited,” Corin answered, turning back to his piano, running his fingers over the dusty keys. “They appreciate our hospitality. And they eat a lot.”

  “Have they said anything about Questre, spirits, or the cursed?” Jeremiah asked.

  Corin glanced back, then turned and sat straighter, following the Protocol of a Prince reporting to a Magistrate, but projecting the ease of a son addressing his father. “Not that I’ve understood. They speak so many languages. The Captain was very curious about our Protocol. I have been reciting it to him so that he will be better prepared to meet the Princes tomorrow.”

  “Did they indicate what they had to trade?” Jeremiah asked.

  Corin thought for a moment, replaying the conversation in his mind. “Artificial gravity technology. Communication systems… I’m afraid we don’t come across as technologically advanced to them. They haven’t been outside their room, so they don’t understand our needs.”

  Jeremiah smiled. He didn’t know what his people might do with the alien technology, but was relieved that their offer of wool wouldn’t be laughed at. “Are you still unavailable tomorrow?”

  Corin ducked his head and folded his hands on his lap. “I need—I—”

  “It’s all right, Prince. We’ll get out of your room. Thank you for the report,” Collette said, sitting up gingerly and scooting off the bed. She grabbed Jeremiah’s arm, pulling him out of the room, and closing the door behind.

  “Well, I killed his mood,” Jeremiah lamented.

  Collette pressed him to the wall and looked expectantly at the closed door. A few minutes later, they heard the piano. It was a few tinkering notes, but it was more than they’d heard in weeks.

  “I guess not entirely,” Jeremiah said, relieved. Giving Collette a nudge, he started toward their room, but Collette headed down the stairs. She was determined not to spend the night in her own bed, but she seemed to get more rattled as they approached the main floor.

  “What about the spirit creature?” she asked. “Did Torrance find it? Is it handled?”

  “Hasn’t been seen since this afternoon,” Jeremiah replied. “Dr. Gossard is the only one who’s claimed to see it that wasn’t attacked by it. It’s possible he only made the claim so that he could come to the Palace and scare you.”

  “He said it was a corporeal spirit,” she said. “What if there’s more than one?”

  “We have plenty of monitors and service people out tonight to keep our people safe,” Jeremiah reassured her. “So far, it is behaving like a cornered animal. It strikes and retreats. We can be vigilant, but we can’t capture a creature that we can’t track.”

  The Prince of Law met them by the door, ready to escort Collette to the Prince of Health’s manor. The evening was warm, and the gates of the Palace twinkled with multi-colored lights. Guests were already lining up to attend the party.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” Jeremiah began.

  “No,” she said. “You go to that party and keep your eye on these travelers. Keep your eye on Dr. Gossard.”

  Jeremiah sighed. He knew she was right, but he wished things could be different. He wished she hadn’t told him how much she resented Festival. It made him sad for her, and for all his prior partners.

  “If you see a Questre, just burn the Palace down,” she added.

  “I probably won’t do that,” he laughed. Then he kissed her with all his heart, but it wasn’t enough to make her stay.

  Tray had had more than a little wine by the time their guide came to take them to the Festival hall. His cheeks were warm and his gait unsteady. Saskia laughed and linked arms with him and they held each other up as they stumbled through the hall. Tray had never seen Saskia giddy and tipsy before, and she probably wasn’t nearly as drunk as she seemed. Her red and white gown came over one shoulder, and the gems studding the fabric traveled diagonally down her torso. She had red highlights clipped into her black hair and she let her long hair flow freely down her back. As gorgeous as she looked in the dress, Tray couldn’t stop thinking about getting her out of it. When he gave her the ruby ring, he’d asked her to marry him and she’d said yes!

  “You do not touch other guests without permission. We have selected for Trade speakers among guests, though most only have basic conversation skills,” their guide explained. She’d introduced herself formally as the Secretary of Palace Affairs but had not given a name. Few people had used their names, and Tray assumed it was related to the Protocol they constantly referenced. Corin had recited pieces of it to Danny, and Danny alternated between rapt attention and unfocused jitters.

  “How long are we expected to stay?” Danny asked, glancing at Amanda.

  “As long as you like. There will be a health check just after sunrise, and some guests do stay through breakfast. The Magistrate asks that you stay in the Palace and not wander between venues,” the Secretary said. Tray wasn’t sure if she was a natural blonde like Sky, or if her hair was dyed yellow to match her outfit. They’d all been offered hair coloring.

  “Guests may offer you mood enhancers. Accepting one is
not a signal for consent to cross-pair, legally speaking. Though it is bad form to take enhancers from those you do not wish to continue socializing with.”

  “Is that a problem? Nonconsensual cross-pairing?” Saskia asked, her grip on Tray’s hand tightening.

  “No. Festival is designed to make cross-pairing as safe as possible. Raise your voice and call for assistance if you wish to be separated from someone at any time,” she said. “If someone asks bien, the proper procedure is to step back from whomever you were engaged with. Repeat bien if you’re okay and wish to continue associating. Say aidez if you wish to be separated or need help. Silence is also considered a request for help.”

  “Good or help,” Hawk translated. When Danny had tackled Amanda earlier, that was the Protocol the Prince had followed.

  “I always need help,” Amanda said, taking a deep breath. She had streaks of green in her hair and smoky green paint around her eyes. With her hair done up and her dress properly fitted, Tray barely recognized her.

  The Secretary led them down a hall so narrow they had to walk single file and Saskia made the others walk ahead of her so she could keep watch. They were taking a back passage to the Festival hall so that their entrance would be more discreet. The party was in full swing when they arrived, with almost a hundred in attendance. There was a small dance floor and pre-recorded music, but no one was dancing. The center of the room was filled with small tables, most only seating four to six, and the sides of the room had rows and rows of couches and narrow beds, covered with pillows.

  Tray’s eyes widened in horror and his feet froze at the door. Sky shoved him into the hall and he immediately circled back so he could grab hold of Saskia’s hand when she emerged. All the wine in the world could not have prepared him for this setting.

  “Exhibitionists’ paradise,” Saskia giggled. Tray winced, prying his hand out of Saskia’s.

  “Baby, relax. I would never do that to you,” Saskia whispered, pulling him closer. “There is a private room upstairs with a king-sized bed just waiting for us. As soon as I’m sure the others are safe here, that is where I’m taking you.”

  Tray nodded, trying to find comfort in her words. He checked to see if Hawk was freaking out, too. He figured he owed Hawk an apology for underestimating just what was meant by ‘breeding festival.’

  “They have beds,” Tray panted. “In the middle of the room… beds.”

  “I might need to lie on one,” Amanda said, rubbing her stomach. “I’m not going to last more than a dance.”

  “I’ll take you to bed soon,” Hawk promised, pressing his forehead to hers. Tray leaned against Saskia, relying on her promise to do the same.

  18

  Corin shivered as he stood on the back staircase leading to the Festival hall. Only residents of the Palace were permitted to use this entry. He was at the top step and he couldn’t bring himself to go down the stairs. He never should have gone to dress the visitors. He’d made a fool of himself, and then promised Douglas that they’d see each other again. That promise weighed on his heart as he dressed for the event. In his room, sitting at his piano, he’d held the Etna bottle in his hand and was prepared to swallow it all. He’d planned his death for months. He would die on his terms, and not Belgard’s or any other Fotri-hater. It would look like an accidental overdose of recreational drugs and would save his family from shame. He’d sworn to himself that he’d die before attending another Festival. That was before he’d met Douglas Hwan.

  He often thought back to the fire, and what would have happened if he and Judith hadn’t been late. Would his body have remained unidentified? Would his parents have disavowed his existence?

  When Corin had tried to report Belgard’s involvement in the hate crime, it seemed like the entire law force banded against him. He was barely out the door before he was attacked, and nearly had his tongue cut out by the very service officers who were supposed to protect him. Corin had found his way out. He had a plan.

  Why did these travelers have to come today?

  If he hadn’t promised Douglas that he’d come, he’d be dead by now, and that thought frightened him. The finality of it seemed less comforting. His clothes felt heavy on his bruised shoulders and he took a deep breath to steel his nerves. He had been waiting for death for so long that it felt strange to have such conviction to fulfill this one last promise.

  He took the first step down the stairs and the beads on his robe rattled. Then he took the next step and the next. Before he knew it, he’d gone through the private door into the cacophony of the party. All chairs, couches, and beds were turned away from the door for privacy reasons, but Corin felt so many eyes on him.

  He turned to escape, but Judith blocked the door, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed. She wore a simple summer dress—the kind that made him cringe because it was so plain. Her cinnamon hair was beautifully sculpted into a twist with streaks of emeralds and diamonds. There were jewels on her face and neck and glitter on her skin.

  “I am so angry with you,” she said, her eyes shimmering with tears. “How could you cut me out of your life? Corin, you were my best friend. Do you know what I am out there? I’m Corin’s lady. Everyone calls me that. People want to know where you’re going to be, and they ask me. Your own father asked me if you’d invited me to stay with you tonight. That we could be excused together. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if I should even come here.”

  She paused, giving him a moment to answer, but he didn’t know what to say. He’d written her a note and then he’d burned it, because he wanted his death to look like an accident. He didn’t want anyone to feel like they could have prevented it.

  “Should I leave?” she asked.

  “No,” Corin said, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. Of course, far too many were. Forcing a smile, he took her hand and led her back through the door. She played along, letting out a coy giggle, but the act dropped instantly once the door closed.

  “I did what you told me not to. After the fire.” The fear and pain caught up with him and he couldn’t breathe. She’d warned him not to go to the Chief of Safety to identify the bodies. They hadn’t spoken since. She and Alyssa knew that fire was meant for them. They saw what he refused to.

  “Did someone threaten you?” she asked.

  Corin’s jaw clenched as a dozen brutal faces flooded his mind. “Even my mother hates what you are.”

  “And you thought I’d be safer drifting alone through the world?” Judith asked.

  Corin undid his robe just enough to show her the physical abuse he’d suffered. He felt guilty for distancing himself from her when she had lost friends too. He didn’t want Belgard hurting her too. “Next Festival,” he always promised. Corin was afraid and he felt defeated and alone.

  “Corin, you can leave the Palace,” she said. “Come with me. We’ll go. You don’t have to live here if it isn’t safe.”

  “I promised the traveler I’d see him tonight,” he said, his voice shaking. “That’s the only reason I came down. To keep him safe.”

  “Him?” she repeated. “There’re eight of them, aren’t there?”

  “Douglas…” Corin fidgeted. “I can’t explain.”

  “Corin, if you expose him as Fotri, they will hurt him, too,” she warned.

  Corin cringed. For years, he’d tried to convince himself he was a sympathizer, not a Fotri. A part of him still fought to deny his attraction to Douglas Hwan. “Then I need you. Can you help me?” he asked, sliding his sleeve up so that he could link her arm. If he didn’t hurry, he’d lose his nerve.

  “Alyssa and I have another rendezvous set up. It shouldn’t take long. We can help you escape after,” she said, ducking her eyes. Without him, she had to find another man to appear to be with. “Or I can run with you right now. Yes. Let’s do that.”

  “Not without him. If you can help us get out…” he said.

  “He came on a spaceship. He has a way out,” she said. “You are the one who’s trapp
ed.”

  “Then help me be with him. Just this one night,” Corin said. Her hands ghosted over his chest, and he regretted showing her the bruises. It was a terrible memory to leave her with.

  “Leave it to me,” she decided, giving him a kiss. “You’ve been my shield often enough. It’s my turn.”

  She clasped his hand and they rejoined the party, but all the confidence he’d felt left him the moment she dropped his hand. His throat tightened and his feet froze. Then he felt two strong hands on his shoulders, and he panicked, thinking it was one of the guards.

  “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” Douglas said.

  “I’m sorry,” Corin said. For the first time he realized how much his ornate robe denied him the warmth of his companion’s touch.

  “Are we allowed to dance?” Douglas asked.

  “Not with each other,” he replied, his heart fluttering with delight. He feared one night with this man would never be enough.

  Amanda figured she looked strange, dancing by herself, her arms wrapped around an invisible partner. It started with the ring and the dress, but the more she pictured herself with Johann, the easier it was to fend off the hallucinations fighting for her attention. She was glad he was the one who had rescued and rehabilitated her, who held her and told her stories of their childhood. Those memories were hers, and they were real.

  Someone tapped her shoulder. Amanda turned, but no one was there. Danny and Sky were teaching some of the locals a traditional Quin dance, and both of them were getting grabby and flirtatious. Amanda felt a hand on her thigh this time, and she jumped away. The onslaught continued with flashes of images, sounds, and sensations: hands under clothes, kisses, perfumes. There was a telepath in the room somewhere.

  Maybe.

  She scanned for Hawk, but he was sitting at a table, enraptured by his conversation with the Prince. Seeing the two of them together made Amanda jealous, but she didn’t feel the same rage as she had earlier. Her body ached, and she wanted to lie down or throw up.