by Phoebe Nix
Jerof was awoken from another nightmare, the same stinging pain in his shoulder.
This time, it faded as he opened his eyes. He kept seeing his mother in his dreams, asking him to accept Liz Janeck as his destined mate. His father was there, too, but he looked younger. His hair was entirely blonde and his beard was as short as it had been decades ago. Jerof didn’t know what to make of it, but he didn’t have the energy to think about it with his pounding headache.
Someone tried to open the door, but it was locked. The Prince rose from his bed, pressing on a button on one side of the nightstand to open it.
It was Finoa.
She was in tears.
“Jerof,” she said, her voice breaking. “It’s father. He requests to see us all.”
“Council?”
“His bedroom.”
Jerof’s heart skipped a beat.
That was it. He knew what that meant.
Although he could see his father dying before his eyes, Jerof never pictured he would have to see his father drawing his last breaths. The thought of it made him his stomach turn. Finoa was never one that would let her tears flow. Seeing her standing there, trembling, had already burned this moment into his memory.
His world momentarily went black as he rose from his bed and followed Finoa, who was sniveling on their way to their father’s bedroom. It felt like he was stuck in a nightmare he couldn’t be woken from.
As soon as the door slid open, he witnessed his father suffering another fit of coughing. On his right was Liz, who sat beside him, both of her hands cupped around his father’s shaking fingers. The King looked like he was crying, but no tears ran down his face. Jerof hated seeing his father look so vulnerable. King Lamnox was a revered warrior, and to see him in such a state was heart wrenching.
The King smiled through his shivering lips as he patted the bed.
Finoa sat next to her father, while Jerof kneeled by the bedside, grasping his hand like a life raft.
Jerof was surprised to find Liz there, but he wasn’t in the state to over-analyze it By the way she held the King’s hand, he could tell that they had previously bonded, which was the only thing he was anxious about when he had first run into her.
“Jerof,” the King called out, gulping. His voice was shaky as sweat beads ran down his forehead. “You must protect Hagran from the Outreach.” He lifted the corners of his mouth as his smile trembled on his pale lips. “And you cannot do it without her,” he gestured toward Liz. “She’s our savior. Fate brought you two together, and you must never part ways no matter what happens.”
His words were interrupted by another fit of coughing. Finoa handed him a piece of cloth, and Jerof could see they were stained with specks of blood when his father handed it back.
The king embraced all three of them as he struggled to speak. Neither Finoa nor Liz could stifle their tears, but Jerof adhered to his straight face.
“Remember, Jerof.” A cough. A sigh. “Remember.”
The king moaned as he drew his last breath.
Finoa let out a cry that sounded like a howl. Liz broke into even more tears, whimpering quietly as she glanced at Jerof.
The Prince slid his father’s eyelids shut with the palm of his hand as a single tear ran down his cheek. He wanted to howl and break everything around him, but he held his pains in, gazing in shock at his dead father.
Suppressing his pains was not an attempt of masculinity to Jerof. He was merely incapable of processing what had happened. In his eyes, his father was immortal. Jerof always imagined that it would be he who would die first in one of his battles before he saw his father perish.
After the funeral, he was to be crowned King, but he wasn’t looking forward to it. He didn’t believe he could possibly replace someone like his father who had paved the way to establishing galactic peace.
He hid in his room, contemplating what was to be asked of him, thinking of his father who he now had to live up to. It was a heavy burden on his heart, and he could feel the weight of it crushing him.
By the time he could control his emotions and prepare to get dressed, hours had passed, and he was not feeling any better.
The door was left ajar, and Liz walked in as he fixed the white silt around his black robe and secured his scabbard on top.
The funeral was tonight, to be hosted under the three full moons. There was going to be a storm when the people of Url mourned the death of their King. There was plenty left unsaid to Liz, and he didn’t know when he was going to muster the strength to tell her everything she needed to know.
After he’d heard the words of his dying father, the idea of being bonded with Liz began to sound less absurd. The more he thought about how fate had brought them together, the more he was at peace with being with her. Burned onto his retinas was his father’s lifeless body laid across the bed.
He felt Liz’s hands slide on his silt as she embraced him from behind.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’ve only known him for a couple of weeks and I’m grieving. I can’t begin to think how you must feel. He was an astonishing man.”
The Prince gulped as he robotically caressed his robe, his fingers landing on Liz’s hands. He paused for a moment, holding his tears back. He didn’t want her to see him getting emotional.
“He is,” he replied after a long silence.
Liz pulled back, pacing toward the bed. She sat, her head tilted down as she stared at the curlicues on the carpet.
“One is only dead when forgotten, and he shall always be remembered,” Jerof said, his voice wavering. He cleared his throat and turned around, eyes fixed on the long mirror on the wall to see what he looked like from behind. He was ready to go.
He turned to Liz, his eyes travelling up and down her figure. He looked the other way as soon as her head rose.
She was dressed in a black kimono with a red silt. She drew circles with her ballerina shoes on the carpet, trying to distract herself from the shock. Jerof could read her eyes; there was plenty that she wanted to say. For one, Jerof was certain that their attraction was mutual.
He had grown used to her company in a matter of days, like she had always been there. Jerof had always felt like his life was missing something - or someone - and Liz just might have been the answer.
“I’m ready to go,” he announced.
The guards were all clad in kimonos with different-colored silts. Liz was provided a scabbard and a sword, but was not informed why. Finoa explained that all she had to do was follow their lead when the ritual began.
The Royals, along with Liz, were escorted to jets adorned in luminescent black roses with specks that glowed a dark blue. At the back of the plane lay the King’s body in a pentagonal box without a lid. He was entirely wrapped in two black sheets with only his head showing. The Royals howled on their way to the graveyard, but it sounded more like mellifluous choir chants.
Liz watched them, her reaction a mixture of awe and grief. Finoa, despite her emotional turmoil, tried to explain what was happening.
Hagrans referred to the graveyard as The Garth, which was primarily a spacious park surrounded by cloisters of algae-like vegetation. It dimly pulsated in purple, making the whole space look bizarre, but beautiful nonetheless.
The attendees were clad in black kimonos, all of them howling in harmony with the rest. Ahead of them, luminescent trees lined the garth, each of them glowing in a different hue.
There were no speeches. Nothing needed to be said.
Hagrans flowed through the gates in queues, their heads tilted down with bouquets of luminescent roses in their hands. Their braided hair was the same length, making them all look like a cult.
Jerof led the Royal queue with Finoa and Liz right behind him. The chanting had come to a stop before the attendees kneeled down and drew their swords, placing them in front of them.
Jerof and Finoa then climbed to their feet, watching the guards carrying the king’s open coffin to one of the trees, which glowed a bright pur
ple.
The Royal siblings then walked to the coffin, carrying their father’s body out of the pentagonal box and lowering him in the shallow grave by the purple tree. They walked back to their spots, Finoa incapable of suppressing her sobbing, while her brother tried to remain composed. As soon as they went back to their queues, the tree dimmed to a sallow shade of yellow.
The chanting continued.
Chapter 13
“Are you sure you don’t feel like going on another tour?” Finoa asked with a broken smile.
It had only been two days after the burial, and she was doing her best to make Liz comfortable. Liz’s arrival seemed to be stressful enough for the Hagrans, and now she felt like her presence was an omen of its own. She hadn’t talked about it with Finoa, knowing the woman would only drain herself to console a visitor.
Despite being aware that it was not in her hands to go back to her home planet, Liz felt like running off without saying a word – pretend none of this had happened and convince herself it was all but a dream.
She fantasized about going back to the Icelands to look for the shuttle that brought her to Hagran. She pondered about whether her friends were even still alive, still feeling guilty about the whole ordeal. They could have been drinking at the local bar right now, joking about how terrible their vacation was. She’d thought Egypt was going to be a gateway to a long list of adventures, and she wasn’t wrong.
She wished she was.
“I’m okay,” Liz replied, patting the bed next to her as Finoa trotted inside toward the open window with her hands on her hips, still trying to act like everything was okay.
“But it’s a beautiful day,” she argued
The look in Finoa’s eyes was heart wrenching.
Liz had thought that the Royals were pressured to suppress their emotions, but it seemed like it was a natural affinity, as though pretending everything was the way it always was would manifest it as reality. Liz could easily see through the act.
“Finoa,” Liz said, gesturing for her to sit beside her. “I’m seriously fine. I’m more worried about you and Jerof. I haven’t seen him since the funeral. Not even passing by.”
“He’s doing alright as always. He’s always been good at dealing with this kind of stuff, better than me to say the least.” Finoa’s tone was calmer than usual, her voice deeper. She sat beside Liz, grabbing one lock of her hair and absently twirling it around her fingers. “He’s just been preparing himself for the coronation. It’s in days’ time. He has a lot on his plate.”
Liz nodded. “I don’t know if he’s doing okay. It’s so weird seeing how every single resident in the kingdom was mourning, and now everybody’s carrying on with their day like nothing happened. I don’t get it. I don’t get why people don’t give themselves the time to process their emotions. That can’t be healthy.”
“You sound like such an Earthling,” Finoa teased, her eyes tearing up. “There’s just nothing we can do about it. Father has gone to a different plane, and we can’t bring him back. We can’t just sit all day and cry about it.”
“It’s okay to mourn,” Liz argued. “And it must be really stressful for Jerof to worry about a coronation so soon.”
“It has to be done. The Allegiance won’t wait for us to mourn,” Finoa explained. “And you don’t have to feel uncomfortable about being as cheerful as you always were. Father adored you for the joy you brought.”
Liz had formed a bond in a matter of days with King Lamnox, possibly because he reminded her of her own father. It felt like she had lost a paternal figure twice, both times before her very eyes. The Royals were not surprised by her attachment to the King, but they’d assumed it was only because he was a kind leader.
“I know,” Liz said, taking a lungful of air as she gazed out the window. “I feel like I want to make change. Like there’s something I can do more than just sit here and moan all day about how shitty it is to be a burden on this kingdom,” she confessed. “Ever since I arrived, I feel like I’ve struck you all with bad luck.
“Father was already sick before you got here. What you’re saying is ridiculous. If anything, it’s quite the opposite. Father believed you’d make a change just by being here. We’re not sure how, but we know it has something to do with you and Jerof.”
Liz shook her head. “I can’t deny that I feel something between us, but I’m not sure if it’s mutual. I don’t know if it’s even allowed. King Lamnox said something about us being bonded to one another, and it’s starting to get into my head.”
Finoa beamed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I don’t know if it’s good or bad. It’s just confusing. When I first met Jerof, I was terrified of him. He was disgusted at the way I looked. Probably thought I looked like some sort of naked lab rat.”
Finoa laughed.
“I’m serious, we didn’t get along that well. Even though he saved my life. I saw the way he looked at me back then. It was pity and a little bit of disgust. But the way he looks at me right now.” She paused. “I can’t decipher it. I mean, I think I know based on my experience with men back home, but this…it’s different.”
“I think most men are the same. Even on Earth, too,” Finoa said, smiling through her teeth.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he likes you, genius,” she said, raising a brow. “I thought the sexual tension between you two was pretty obvious.”
“What?” Liz said, rising and walking toward the window to avoid eye contact with the Princess. “You’re insane.”
“Right,” she replied, snickering. “I know it’s strange, with us being a completely different race and all.”
“Species,” Liz said, turning around. “A completely different species.”
Finoa broke out laughing. “The two of you can communicate, and it’s obvious you’re both secretly attracted to each other, so I don’t see the problem. Listen, he needs you. He goes AWOL when he’s not doing well. He likes to distract himself from everything around him by keeping himself busy.”
“I knew it.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Finoa said, getting up and joining Liz by the window. She placed her arms on the sill, her icy blue eyes sparkling as she gazed at the burning disk in the sky.
“It’s weird having someone from an entirely different planet talk to me that way,” Liz said, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine the pain he must feel. I’d only known your father for a few days and I’m heartbroken over the whole thing. He must be a mess.”
Finoa shrugged. “Check on him then. You can’t just wait for him in the hallways forever. Tell you what? He usually hangs around the terrace in the evenings. Just walk in there as casually as you feel like it and talk it out.” She nudged her by the elbow. “You can’t wait for anything to happen if you don’t do anything about it. Whether the two of you should be together or not, that’s something you need to find out yourself.”
Liz let out a sigh as she contemplated the city. There weren’t as many aircrafts around this morning. She didn’t have to ask why.
The sun, taking up half of the sky, emitted hues of green and orange, making Finoa’s skin look like a deeper shade of bronze. Liz found herself staring at her cheekbones, which glistened as she tilted her head up and enjoyed the gentle breeze.
“I guess,” Liz finally said after a long pause. “I just feel like I’ve been getting smacked in the face too many times, too soon. I find myself on a different planet, then I bond with the King and the next moment, he’s gone. Now I have to face my fears and actually talk to the alien I have a thing for.” She let out a nervous smile. “I don’t even know what the hell is going on.”
“A new start, the Princess said. “I can tell you’ve been too busy in your home planet to sit back and think. You said in the Council meeting that you went to a foreign country to relax. I think getting that time for yourself made you realize you needed to find more meaning than those jobs that take away your whole life on your planet. That’s wh
y you’re here. Your own thoughts brought you here, to a new life.”
Liz had seen her situation through a similar lens, but she had always found herself shaking the thought away. It wasn’t just because she wasn’t the spiritual type, but such a theory would confirm that she might be staying here for longer than she’d intended. As much as she enjoyed her new life living like a Hagran Royal, it was dissociating. Sure, she had fantasized about turning her life around, but she hadn’t counted on living in a seemingly fantasy world.
Either way, Finoa was right. If Liz wanted to get closer to Jerof, it had to be done when he needed her the most. She had experienced the same pain over the death of her father; she knew exactly how it felt to try to distract herself until she completely broke down.
Just as Finoa advised, Liz walked down to the terrace at nighttime. It was darker than usual, the three moons concealed by clouds of mist. It was as though nature itself was mourning the death of the King.
She awaited the Prince wearing a slip-on silk dress. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail and she was barefoot. With her arms on the railing, she pushed herself up on the tips of her toes. She didn’t have to wait long until Jerof made an appearance.
“You’re here,” Jerof announced as soon as he saw her. She turned around to face him, her heart racing.
“I sure am,” she said, glancing at the floor tiles. She had spoken to him a dozen times before and she was not nearly this nervous.
Not another word was said before he walked to the railing, where he gazed at the misty sky. Usually, he would shoot her a glance every now and again, but Liz didn’t feel he was in the mood to socialize. Jerof was silent, but she could see his grief through his eyes.
“So, I heard you’ve been busy,” Liz said to break the silence, her eyes fixed on his lips.
He shrugged. “As always.”
“I haven’t seen you in a couple of days,” she continued. “I was worried about you.”
“You don’t have to worry about a warrior.”