Fall From the Moon (A Bánalfar Novel Book 1)

by CS Hale

  I tipped my head back and gulped the wine without breathing, wiped away the rivulet that flowed around the glass and ran down my chin. The alcohol burned in my stomach.

  Of all the scenarios that had played through my mind as I’d watched the planet turn beneath me, blue and green and covered in lacy clouds. So familiar, yet so foreign. Never in my wildest dreams could I have concocted one where I was queen, where I was valuable.

  One step at a time.

  I knew the political landscape. I knew what was expected of me. Now I just needed to figure out what to do.

  There was another banquet. Long lines of important personages queued up before our table, Valemar introducing them as they appeared. I was met with looks of awe, some of curiosity, and some frank appraisals. Zhanet was not introduced to me. She stayed at her table forty feet away and threw me looks of hatred. When her gaze wasn’t resting on Valemar with longing.

  I smiled and inclined my head. I wished I had a tablet or secretary to form a guest book for me to study because I’d never be able to match the faces with the names on my own. Always be prepared, Astrid, my protocol professor had drilled into me. I’d assembled and studied the photos in guest books for hours every trip. Always get their names, Astrid. Rules two and three. But here, I was a novice.

  Begin at the beginning.

  “You know I’ll never remember them all,” I whispered to Valemar as another couple returned to their seats.

  “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

  “Are you going to tell me who I should know?”

  “And who do you think you should know?” Valemar asked.

  I pulled off a small piece of the roasted meat on my plate. The meat was tender and flavorful like duck but the animal it had been sliced off of was built more like a small pig. “I suppose the traditional answer should be ‘the wives,’ but you and the Mödatal have other plans for me.”

  Valemar’s eyes twinkled and one eyebrow hooked. “How was your luncheon with her?”

  “It answered some questions and raised others.”

  Valemar chuckled. “She does have that effect on people. Coran Pöbid and his wife Blanid,” he added in a louder voice.

  I inclined my head to them. The lump on my head had gone down a little, but the crown I wore pressed down on it, renewing the ache. “How many of these people want me dead?” I whispered as they moved away.

  Valemar’s eyes moved to Zhanet, who still stared at me. She caught his gaze, colored, and looked down at her plate. “There may be one or two who wish it, but no one would move against you.”

  “Not even the ones who believe I’m not the Moon Princess, that I’m a Cordair plant meant to tempt you into further concessions?”

  Valemar’s eyes hardened and the smile dropped from his face. “I would kill them all if they harmed you,” he breathed. “Their blood would flow in the streets.” Valemar blinked as the next couple moved forward, and he lifted a smile back in place. “Felhim Stöon and Elja.”

  I inclined my head to them, but my eyes lingered on Valemar. Was it me who was so valuable to him? Or was it something else entirely?

  I excused myself early. The weight of the crown had made my head pound again, and I sighed in relief when Daria lifted it from me. I sighed again, more of a moan, when her fingers ran through my hair and she began to massage my scalp.

  “It’s definitely smaller than before,” she said, fingering the lump. “Would you like a pain draught tonight?”

  I winced as she probed a tender place. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  She picked up a brush and gently ran it through my curls, easing out the tangles. I stood when she finished. Daria untied the bow and began to whip the laces through the eyelets. The bedroom door opened. Valemar stepped through. He leaned against the open door of my dressing room.

  Daria stopped her work and dipped a small bow, keeping her eyes downcast. “My king.”

  “You may go,” Valemar said to her and moved behind me. “I’ll finish your task.”

  Daria exited the room without looking up. I heard the bedroom door open and close as Valemar’s hands took up the laces and began pulling them through the loops. Goosebumps rose on my arms. I fought back a shiver.

  The heavy silk fabric made a noise like a small scream as the lace whisked through the holes. Similar to the one I was choking back. How had they done it? All those women. Billions of them. How had they taken a man they hadn’t chosen to bed? Night after night, allowing him to use their bodies. An unpleasant but necessary wifely duty.

  Just lie there. At least you get children from it, they’d been told.

  Their bodies weren’t their own. And while last night hadn’t been unpleasant, I couldn’t imagine a lifetime of nights, being used to quench Valemar’s lust, though no children would come from it.

  The lace whipped free of the final eyelet. Valemar laid it over the back of the chair and eased the gown from my shoulders. It fell to the ground in a puff of silk. New goosebumps rose as he ran his hands down my bare arms before returning to untie the straps of my slip. This, too, fell to the floor, joining the dress. Valemar’s hands caressed my shoulders. He leaned in and inhaled, his nose traveling from my neck to my ear. The hairs on my arms lifted, ready to push him away since my hands weren’t. I blinked back tears, but they overflowed and ran down my cheeks.

  Brush them away or let them fall? Draw attention to them or —

  I dipped my head as Valemar turned me toward him. Then he froze. His hands fell away. “Being with me pains you?” Confusion filled his voice.

  I choked back the sobs that filled my throat and kept my head down, refusing to meet his eyes. “I was raised to take a husband out of love, not duty.”

  There was no answer, no movement from him. I lifted my eyes. Everything about him was stunned. His gaze had turned inward, unseeing. Not even a hair moved. His eyes widened. He blinked then looked at me.

  “I’ll not force you,” he said, and turned his head away. His jaw clenched. “I’ll not touch you again until you ask it of me.” His lips curled into a snarl that trembled. Then he turned and walked out of my dressing room. The bedroom door closed behind him, echoing in the empty room, filling my ears as if Valemar had slammed it shut.

  I crossed my arms against my chest and shivered, staring at the bedroom door. I’d gotten what I’d wanted. But now I was truly alone.

  IT TURNED OUT to be a sleepless night. I found a nightgown and crawled into bed. Shortly thereafter, the floor outside my door creaked. My heart leapt, hoping it was Valemar; though I didn’t want to give him my body, I did feel safer in this uncertain place when I was with him.

  But the person settled themselves outside my door without entering. A guard.

  My face flamed as I thought of the castle learning that Valemar did not share his new wife’s bed. Driven out, for he had come and then left. I wondered if he’d be sleeping alone. Zhanet would be more than willing to comfort him. The precariousness of my position crashed down upon me.

  Think! part of my brain shouted. You always find some way through.

  Not always, I replied. Sometimes my advice was to simply walk away. There was always another deal to be had. Another planet.

  But no more. Teridun Four would be where I remained for the rest of my very short or very long life.

  I lay there and watched the sliver of the blood-red moon creep across the window, bathing the room in a soft red light, not unlike night or emergency mode onboard ship.

  Where to begin? How do you find the beginning when you drop down in the middle?

  The moon had traveled nearly the full length of my window before my brain asked, So, what is the middle?

  Rule seventeen kicked in: When all else fails, make a list.

  I was married. I was queen. I was the foretold savior of a prophecy. I was stuck here.

  For the time being, my brain said.

  “Permanently,” I whispered back to it. “There’s no way off this planet.”

&
nbsp; Yes, there is. The Hormani come and go.

  I sucked in a breath. That was true, though not currently useful. I could envision no avenue of escape that didn’t result in my being found and handed over to the Cordair as a gift. But it was true.

  I have no allies, I thought, continuing the list.

  Not true, my brain said. You have Valemar. And Daria. And the Mödatal.

  I pondered that while the moon slipped beyond the window, the weak red light became shadow, and the bright, yellow-white spangle of the stars reappeared in the dark velvet emptiness that was their home. I was useful to Valemar and the Mödatal. Daria had never been anything but kind. Valemar and the Mödatal would be allies while I had value to them.

  I rolled over and cradled the pillow under my head. I had to maintain my value.

  It was this thought that circled around my brain the rest of the night, leading me to the conclusion that my greatest ally was the husband I currently wanted to avoid.

  The guard outside my door departed when Daria arrived. “What would you like to wear today, my queen?”

  Armor, I thought. I’d be going into battle. I had decided I would meet with Valemar. It was part of rule six — Know when to put your cards on the table. Only then could I begin to find a way to fit in between expectations and reality. I managed to pull up a smile. “Something cheerful, perhaps.”

  Understanding filled Daria’s eyes. “Of course.”

  She cinched me into a gown that was green like the summer fields. Flowers had been embroidered along the boat-neck collar. Despite my initial protests, she added a small crown studded with peridot. “Never hurts to remind him that you are Queen,” she said, placing it on my brow.

  I swallowed heavily. “Does everyone know?” I whispered.

  “That he has to earn your favor?” Daria said, giving me a sharp look. “Yes, they do.” She finished adjusting my curls and stepped back. Her eyes met mine in the mirror. “You are the Moon Princess we’ve been waiting four hundred years for. Valemar may be a powerful king, but he is one of many. It is he who must please you.”

  My eyes widened. I’d spent so much time focused on me that I hadn’t seen the bigger picture. Probably because I didn’t believe. But they did. And if they believed it, then it had value. I just needed to claim my value, lie though it was. Wasn’t that part of rule fourteen?

  This was just another negotiation. I had something they wanted. They had something I wanted. I simply needed to figure out how to align the two.

  A guard led me through the snaking passageways to the room Valemar was in. I waited outside while Heymond finished giving his report. He dipped a bow to me as he left, then walked down the hallway, his green cloak billowing out behind him.

  You are the queen. You are the princess, I chanted inside my head, then drew myself up. It was with head lifted high that I entered the room.

  Valemar’s eyes flashed with the same hurt as the previous night. A blush colored my cheeks. “You wished to see me?” he said.

  “While I don’t believe in prophecies,” I said, “and I don’t know what I can do, the Mödatal does believe I can help. What had you been hoping for from me?”

  Valemar huffed. “An army.” He threw himself from his chair, walked to the window, crossed his arms, and scowled at the view.

  I swallowed deeply. “An army would drive away the outsiders. And there is one.” Valemar froze. “But even if I could contact them, you wouldn’t want them here. They’re … not forgiving.” Valemar turned to face me. “Trust me. They are the last help you would want. Your world would never be the same.”

  “You do not command them?”

  I shook my head. “No. They are an authority unto themselves.”

  “And the outsiders who now trade with the Cordair?”

  I gave a gentle laugh. “They are smugglers. The only danger from them is what they would do to keep the Shororato from discovering their activities.”

  “The Shororato?”

  “The army I spoke of.” A simplistic description for the galactic police based on Karjiny Five, its forces drawn from the entire mobile galaxy.

  Valemar began to pace. Even his hands took up the movement, his thumbs traveling along his fingertips. It had to be painful, the pressure against his wedding wound, but his face merely reflected his preoccupation.

  Valemar stopped and turned to me. “Yesterday, you told me the risk from the outsiders was bad.”

  “Yes.” My mouth went dry, and my throat constricted. “The armor the outsiders have given the Cordair. Though lightweight, it is impenetrable.”

  “There are no weaknesses?”

  “None.”

  The blue of Valemar’s eyes nearly disappeared, replaced by black as his pupils dilated. All the more visible as his eyes widened. This strong, proud man was now afraid. I thought back to the group that had greeted us. There had been, what? Five of the group with the armor? “How much of it do they have?”

  “I do not know.”

  The words passed silently between us. A few suits wouldn’t shift the balance if war were to come. But an entire army clad in it …

  “And the outsiders would do anything to protect the supply of this ore?” Valemar asked.

  “They need to be careful since trade with this planet is forbidden. But yes, they would.”

  Valemar nodded. I could see thoughts pass through his eyes, plans beginning to form. His lips moved silently, but I could read them. She may not know what she can do.

  Further discussion was interrupted by a knock on the door. It opened before Valemar could reply. A blond head appeared (they all seemed to be blond), head bent, hair trailing on the floor, eyes averted.

  “I am sorry for the intrusion, my king, but the karawack are hatching.”

  “Thank you,” Valemar said. The door swung shut again.

  “Karawack?” I asked.

  “Messenger birds. Do you not have them on the moon?”

  “We had carrier pigeons several centuries ago, but now we can send messages with … a form of light.”

  “Light?” Valemar’s brow furrowed. “I had assumed that your birds had died or escaped when your ship fell.” His eyes crinkled further, deepening the crease on his brow. “How do you send messages with light?”

  “It’s complicated,” I said. “More complicated than I can explain. But I could eventually show you how we started out, with wires and sound.”

  “Wires? How would that work over long distances?”

  I smiled. “We actually ran wires over our entire planet and the sound traveled down them.”

  Valemar frowned. “But the time, the cost … How did you keep them from being cut? You’d lose the message.”

  I laughed. “That did happen.”

  “I think I’ll keep the karawack,” Valemar said. “Now come. I must hurry. They imprint as soon as they hatch.”

  Valemar led the way out the door and down the hall. The passageway twisted and turned and I soon became hopelessly lost. Learning my way around needed to be my number one priority. After self-preservation.

  “How do the karawack work?” I asked. Carrier pigeons didn’t imprint. Or if they did, not in the way that was urgent enough to pull a king from a meeting.

  “Work? They carry messages.”

  “But the imprinting part. Our pigeons returned to the place they lived.”

  Valemar led the way down a twisting staircase. “Ah.” He turned his smiled at me over his shoulder. “The karawack imprint on a person. They always return to that person.”

  The stairs ended. Valemar pushed open the door at the end. I could see stacks of cages containing both brown and white birds with crests on their heads and long, trailing tail feathers. They looked like pigeon-sized peacocks but without the brilliant colors.

  “My king.” A man dressed in a brown tunic and pants bowed deeply and backed away from a low table. A nest sat in the center, containing several brown and white, heavily speckled eggs. The eggs clicked and bumped a
gainst each other.

  “Stay here,” Valemar said to me, and took a seat on the stool next to the table. He began to stroke the eggs, running his hands over them and crooning to them in a low voice. The caged birds took up Valemar’s spoken song, adding their own thrum. The dungeon-like room vibrated from the sound.

  There was a crack and one egg split into several thick shards. The chick inside gave a mighty shake and emerged, naked and pink, its head searching for Valemar’s voice.

  Valemar picked it up and brought it close to his mouth. He sang to it and gently stroked the chick with one finger. The chick raised its head and squawked at him, reveling in the attention. Valemar placed the chick back in the nest when the next egg cracked open and repeated the process with all six eggs.

  It was the strangest birthing I’d ever seen. A king, sitting on a stool in a dark, closed room filled with the scent of burning lanterns, hay, and dung, singing to one ugly baby after another, for they were ugly without their feathers and their eyes still closed. But they were his children. Each was treated with such love and tenderness that I looked at Valemar with new eyes.

  When all six had hatched and been handled and sung to by Valemar, the attendant stepped back to the nest and picked up a chick. He brought it to one of the cages and slipped it inside. The buff brown mother clucked to it and settled it under her wings. The bulbous head of the chick, however, poked back out, searching for Valemar.

  He followed the attendant over to the cage with the last chick. “Tomorrow,” Valemar said, and six small heads squawked at him. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

  “We’ll have you down for the next hatching,” Valemar said to me as we made our way back up the stairs. “You’ll need your own birds.”

  “You said they always return to a person. How does that work if you’re not at home?”

  “No matter where you travel,” Valemar said. “They always find you.”

  “And you asked me how we sent messages with light?” I said incredulously.

  Valemar opened his mouth but closed it again before he spoke. “I guess both our planets have mysteries.”