by CS Hale
“The marble is cooler but rarer,” Daria explained.
“A pearl among the sand,” I said.
“A pearl?”
“There’s an animal that lives in the sea … on the moon,” I said, looking around, aware of the listening ears. “It creates a shell like a stone. The inside is creamy white, yet iridescent, almost like a gresán. When a grain of sand gets in and the creature can’t get it out, it coats the sand with the nacre, layers and layers, until a pebble forms that we call a pearl.”
“Sounds beautiful.”
“It is.” I thought of my own moon, a pearl in the sky, not the cabochon ruby that hung overhead every night.
The barge picked up speed. I gripped the railing and stared at the castle that loomed before me.
“Nothing to be afraid of,” Shale said.
“Are you staying with us or the Cair?” I asked.
“The Cair. It is my place.”
“And what do you foresee?”
Shale gave me a wry smile. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“Then how can you be certain things will be fine?”
“Your story does not end there,” she said with a nod toward the castle. “That I do know.”
I laughed. “How can you possibly know that?”
Shale leaned against the rail and looked at the city slowly growing before us. “Can you feel your mother?”
I recoiled as her words hit me. “What?”
“Can you feel your mother? Can you reach through space and time and feel her presence?”
Daria turned her head away from us. “I …” But words failed me.
“I know you try.” Shale’s eyes met mine. “Can you?” My jaw clenched as the emotional box began to rattle. Shale adjusted her shawl and looked back at Vanerife. “Some things you just know. Some things are whispered to you if you pause to listen. Some people hear them. Others don’t. Even to those who listen not all things are whispered. Your story, though, it does not end here. So there is no need to worry.”
But I did worry. My mother-in-law was a tightrope that I was afraid to walk.
We were escorted from the barge through the city, into the castle, and up to one of the most splendid bedrooms I’d ever been in. More the feel and size of a living room but with a bed on one end. Waist-high windows lined the length to catch breeze that drifted in from the Aelon Sea. Snowy white, sheer curtains hung in the empty, open spaces of the windows for privacy, though we were up so high that all I could see out of them were the turquoise blue waters of the sea and the green dots of the Lian Isles in the distance.
I’d seen something like it on the big ad screens that graced the sides of buildings in every major city, but they didn’t fully convey the warmth in the air, the mix of salt and fruit and perfume on the breeze, the damp moisture of the humidity.
“Yes,” Daria said, as I looked around in wonder. “Better Vanerife than Snow Reach.” She crossed to one of the wardrobes and began sorting through it. “Red?” she asked, pulling out a dress. “Or do you think blue?”
“Not red. Let’s not bring the moon into this.” All the dresses hanging in the wardrobe were someone else’s. “You don’t happen to have my dress, do you? The one I was wearing when Heymond found me?”
Daria hung the red dress back up. “I think it’s in one of the trunks. But it’s heavy. You’ll be hot in it.”
“But it’s mine. I want to stand before Reina as I am.”
Daria opened her mouth then closed it. She gave me a sad smile. “I’ll go check on our luggage.”
The dress had been squashed in a trunk. After days of travel and damp, heavy creases had set in. Daria sent it out to be quickly ironed. “You’re sure you don’t want to appear before her as queen?” she asked. I shook my head. I was starting over. Valemar and I had had such a rushed introduction, a mere dance of a game. I wanted to back up and do it differently this time.
Daria had barely finished helping me into the dress when the summons came. “As much truth as possible,” she reminded me. “Reina will know if you’re hiding anything. She’s a master at reading people.”
I nodded then followed the escort through the passageways. My mind went back to that first to and fro that Valemar and I had done. He’d had his agenda. I’d had mine. He’d wanted the Moon Princess. I’d wanted life. I didn’t know what goal Reina might have now. For me, I just wanted me back.
I was shown into a presence room. Reina sat behind a desk in a tall, almost throne-like chair. She herself was tall with long, golden-blond hair. Valemar’s mother must have been absolutely stunning in her youth for she was still amazingly beautiful, with the same undercurrent of “lethal” as her son.
“So you are my new daughter.” Her voice was steel sheathed in velvet.
I lowered my eyes. “Yes, my queen.”
Reina tapped a small scroll of paper twice on the table then threw it aside. A karawack message. “My son says that you have lied to him.”
I kept my head down. “Mainly by omission.”
She laughed, a light, dangerous laugh. “And what have you omitted?”
I swallowed. “He was expecting someone. When I arrived, he told me that I would need to marry him or be handed over to the Cordair.”
Reina made a sound between a hum and a growl. “Did he ask if you were who he thought you were?”
I raised my eyes. “Not exactly. He asked if I was the daughter of kings.”
She flashed her dangerous smile again. “And what did you say?”
I wet my lips. “I said ‘yes.’”
“And are you?”
“I am named after Astrid, a king’s daughter. My grandmother of seventeen hundred years ago. I carry the blood of generations of fierce warrior kings who sailed the seas. I claim their blood, but I am no princess.”
Reina laughed. “I think I like your ancestors. You do have fire.” She leaned across the table, resting before me on her arms. “So what is the truth, Astrid?”
I glanced down, stared at the floor, then forced my eyes up. “I mean no disrespect, my queen, but I have broken laws in coming here. Would you have me break more by speaking of things that are forbidden to be told?”
An icy gleam entered Reina’s eyes. “And who has forbidden this?”
“You know I’m not from here, from Crenfor.” Reina nodded. “To tell you the truth, all of it, would change you forever. Not even the Cordair know the truth of who they trade with.” Her eyes narrowed. “They would become more greedy if they did.” Reina’s eyes widened and she sat back in the chair. “I could tell you. I could break the law and tell you, but you know what is said about truth …”
“It can’t be unheard once heard.”
“Do you want that?” I asked. “Do you want me to tell you things you shouldn’t know? Things that can’t be unheard once spoken?” I knew the answer before I asked the question, and it saddened me. I saw it form, though Reina wrestled with it. “My world thought they were ready for those things,” I whispered and Reina’s eyes latched onto mine, an edge of panic in them. “But they weren’t. They adjusted. They eventually thrived. But they were never the same.”
Reina clenched and unclenched her hands. As they stilled, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Tell me.”
“My name is — was — Astrid Gabriella Carr, and I was the protocol specialist aboard the starship Palmas Cove …”
I told her all of it. The problem that caused us to put into orbit around Teridun Four. How I was in my cabin. How no help came. How everyone died but me. I told her about my decision to break the law, to save myself. And how I agreed to marry Valemar to save myself again. My confession to Daria had drawn off some of the pain, so even though the words often caught in my throat, I was able to do it, to actually get through it.
Reina was silent when I finished. Her questions had been few.
“Would your son have wanted to hear that?” I asked. Grief filled my voice — the loss of my comrades, the loss of my hu
sband, the loss of my world. Reina gave a tight shake of her head. “So how could I tell him?” My voice broke on the last word.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
I looked at the wall and slammed the box’s lid shut in my mind. I’d opened it long enough to share the story with Reina, but its power lurked, waiting for the right opportunity to consume me. “What now?”
Reina sucked in a breath and sat up straighter in the throne-like chair. “You are his wife. You —” She caught my gaze. “You’re sure you can’t have children? With my son?”
I wanted to say, It would take a miracle, but simply answered, “I am sure.”
Reina nodded thoughtfully. “Well, you are still his wife. He has given you his protection. This is your home. Daria is familiar with the rhythm of life in Vanerife.” Reina gave me a wry smile. “Vanerife is not like Aedenfal. I hope you find it more to your liking.”
She pushed back her chair and came around the table, took my hands and kissed my cheek. “My daughter. I would be happy to have you dine with me tonight.”
“Thank you,” I said. Reina released my hands. I bowed my head and turned for the door, slowly releasing a breath I’d held from the time I’d entered. I had survived my first encounter.
They say that confession is good for the soul. That may be true. I had confessed who I was to Reina not only to unburden my soul from the lies I had been telling but to re-find Astrid. But I didn’t like what it had revealed.
As Protocol Specialist Carr, I had been a master at my job. I always knew how to read a situation, how to work out the correct move. I had been a master chess player, so to speak. However, as I walked back to my room in Vanerife, the illusion of my “mastery” fell away — I was only as good as the file.
I stumbled into the wall as the truth hit me. I had successfully negotiated more contracts than I could count, had been able to create my list of rules because I’d always had a file to read.
I braced a hand against the wall, blind to everything but the racing thoughts in my head. When had I done it on my own? When had I dealt with the unexpected?
Never.
I felt my way to an alcove and sank down onto the bench. All this time I’d thought the Moon Princess had been the lie. It turned out the lie was me. I had no file on Crenfor, no information to help me other than: Medieval level planet. Do not contact. I was useless.
I pushed myself up and managed to find my way back to my room. “What did she say?” Daria’s voice was all horror when I entered. She was across the room in an instant, gripping my arms.
“I’m a total failure.” I couldn’t even meet Daria’s eyes.
“What! What does that mean? Is she sending you away?”
“She should.”
Daria guided me to a seat. “Tell me, my queen, how have you failed?”
I stared at the floor. “I was only good at my job because I could study. I had information on every culture I worked with. Here, on Crenfor, I’m not prepared. I don’t know how to make the next move.”
“The next move?”
“It’s a phrase from a war game played with pieces on a board.”
“Oh!” Daria exclaimed. “Carbonay.”
I lifted my head. “Carbonay?”
“The men play it in their free time in Vanerife. You’ll see them in cafés and down by the docks with their boards and their pieces, each trying to successfully invade and take the queen.”
“The queen?” In chess, you want to capture the king. In tahtasi, the high priest.
Daria goggled at me as though I’d lost my mind. “Of course, the queen. With the queen captured, the king must do as her captors command.”
“Won’t they kill her?”
“No!” Daria said. “Then the king would just remarry. You take the young queen before —” She broke off abruptly.
“Before?” I prompted.
Daria’s head bowed. “Before she has children.”
“Ah.” Before she can supply him with heirs. The whole future of the kingdom would be in question.
“A queen’s ransom,” I said. Daria looked up at me. I smiled. “The saying on my planet is, A king’s ransom. You’d want to capture the king.”
“Huh,” Daria said. “I guess that would work, too. They say that carbonay has been played for more than three thousand years. A prince from Çölka swept down from the deserts of Siak Kumlar and captured King Baram of R’Kesh’s bride. Baram eventually offered his sister in exchange. What happened to her, no one knows, but Baram got his bride back. They’re crazy, the Çölkans. Taluendi speaks to them on the wind.”
My eyes grew large as Daria spoke. Not from the tale she told. Daria’s words sounded like the dulcet tones of one of my files. I took her hands. “Would you teach me? Tell me what I need to know to survive?”
“Survive?”
I was being too dramatic. I had known the character I would need to create to survive on Teridun Four wouldn’t be PS Carr. So far, I hadn’t even been able to pull off Eleanor of Aquitaine. Except for marrying Valemar. I pushed the thought aside.
“I don’t feel safe,” I told Daria. “Valemar doesn’t want me. Shouldn’t want me since I mean an end to his line. Now I’m here with his mother, in a place I don’t know, with few friends or allies. You know Vanerife. Can you help me navigate it in every sense of the word?”
Daria squeezed my hands and smiled. “We’ll start at the beginning.”
Daria meant “the beginning” quite literally. After squeezing my hands, Daria lifted me to my feet. She opened one of the wardrobes and handed me a dark blue tunic with short sleeves and a pair of leggings that reached to mid-calf. She took a second set for herself.
“We are going down to the beach, and I’ll begin there.”
We followed a winding staircase built into the rocks on which Vanerife High was perched down to a golden beach. The sand glittered with flecks of mica and tiny rainbow-colored grains, little bits of tourmaline often found in mica deposits. Instead of palm trees shading the back of the beach, the trees reminded me of the umbrella trees still found in protected areas of the Serengeti plains of Africa. Wide crowns created a leafy green awning over the dry end of the beach.
Daria waded ankle-deep into the surf and sat down. Two guards took up post a discreet distance away. Farther down the beach, children played in the water, their delighted laughter audible over the rumble and hiss of the waves. Old men sat at tables under the shade of the trees, playing carbonay.
I dropped down next to Daria into the warm water and leaned back as she had, resting on my elbows, knees up, as the waves tickled back and forth around us.
“They say that life began here,” Daria said, staring at the green rise of the Lian Isles visible beyond the bay. “Father Sea met Mother Moon on these shores and they joined, creating life.” Daria cracked a saucy smile and flashed her eyebrows. “He’s still at it. Thrusting like a devoted lover.”
It did feel like that, the pressure of the waves as they broke against my thighs and traveled over my belly. “Certainly not one caught in Blood Moon fever,” I said. Daria giggled before she sobered.
“No, then he rages and claims the land, pulling it down into his depths.” Her eyes scanned the horizon. “Thousands and thousands of years passed. We emerged from the sea to live on the land. Built shelters and eventually left our Father behind.
“The trees protected us. Gave us shade to shield us from the burning sun. Gave us wood to keep us warm and fashion homes and tools.”
“Gladama,” I said. Daria nodded.
“When we moved south, the barat trees were there, reaching for the sky.”
“Do the Cordair have the same story?” I asked.
Daria shook her head. “No. Their life began in the south, back when Snow Reach was green and the lands to the north even hotter than they are now. At least, that is the story they now tell.”
“Oluendi?” I asked.
“Yes. Oluendi carved them out of rock and breathe
d life into them. All you see is yours, he told them. Still tells them,” she said with disgust.
I let the waves wash over me a few times. “So the Alfari wouldn’t marry a Cordair.”
Daria huffed. “No. But that’s never stopped them from carrying off our women against their will.”
“And have such unions produced children?” Sometimes you got more than one humanoid race on a planet. Like the Neanderthals that eventually interbred with humans on Earth.
Daria shook her head. “I don’t know. Valemar might. Reina might, for that matter. They haven’t done it in recent years. At least, not that I’ve heard.”
I watched the waves swell, grow taller and foamy as they neared the shore before breaking over me and rippling their way onto the sand with a hush. The sea inhaled and drew them back again. Life had started here. Maybe mine could, too.
“Who do I need to be?” I asked Daria. “Other than the Moon Princess?”
“That’s a strange question.”
“Maybe to you, but that’s who I’ve been, someone who is different depending on the situation.”
“So why not the Moon Princess?” Daria asked.
I sat up and put my arms around my knees. “She’s a savior. I’m not a savior.”
“I see.” Daria sat up, too, but splayed her hands, letting the waves run through her fingers. “What does Astrid want? Not the Astrid who became ‘someone different’ for every job, but the beginning Astrid.”
I swallowed. “She wanted adventure.”
Daria slowly nodded. “And now?”
My lips trembled. I wanted Edinburgh. I wanted Finn’s house and the room he kept for me. I wanted to hide under the bed there and never leave. “Home,” I whispered. The waves hushed at that moment and my voice carried. “She wants home.”