by Gun Brooke
She engaged her transmitter and earpiece by voice recognition. “Paladin.”
“Boyoda.”
A five-second-long vibration showed the transmitter accepted their voice patterns. Andreia had suggested they take this extra precaution, since they needed to identify each other unequivocally.
“I hope everything’s okay,” Andreia said, her voice cheerful and clear.
“Yes. I’m still waiting to hear something from Kellen. I’m cautiously optimistic.”
“Good. I have faith in your powers of persuasion.”
Roshan shook her head. Was that a joke? “Completely unfounded, but thanks just the same.”
“I’m not calling to nag you, though,” Andreia continued, now speaking quickly and slightly out of breath. Roshan could hear from the quick clattering noise of high heels against marble in the background that she was on the move. “Just hear me out, okay?”
“Very well.”
“I need a date for tonight.”
What? Roshan couldn’t possibly respond coherently.
“Yes. Well.” Andreia continued and cleared her voice. “It’s an important function, a farewell celebration at the palace for Chairman M’Ocresta.”
“And?”
“And, since we’re Onotharian-friendly in the public eye, we could attend major events like tonight together and make people think we’re friends.” Roshan heard a deep intake of breath. “What do you think?”
It was logical. In fact, Roshan wondered why she hadn’t thought of it after she’d found out who Boyoda was. Self-preservation. How can I spend time with her just for show? What if I forget to act and instead react? “I think it’s a good idea,” Roshan heard herself say. “We can communicate even easier, not to mention more safely.”
“Yes. Can you meet me there in two hours? I’ll send a hovercraft for you—”
“No need. I’ll be there. I’ll even arrive in style. How’s that?”
Andreia made a choking sound. “Okay. Good. I’ll look forward to it. Boyoda out.”
Roshan stared unseeingly at the vast structures that made up the center of Ganath. Did Andreia really look forward to seeing her, or was that just a piece of her false persona? Who was she really? She had sounded sincere, but... Roshan shrugged inwardly and slipped into her familiar, almost comforting, cynical frame of mind.
Roshan sat motionless as the hovercraft pushed through the dense traffic on the way back to her office. She kept a good portion of her sizable wardrobe there, for occasions like these. Trying not to think of the young Andreia and how she had more or less had to drag the shy girl out on the town, Roshan sat back as memories flooded her. They’d grown so close, and been torn apart emotionally with such violence, Roshan felt now as if a deep-sea tidal wave had closed over her head. She closed her eyes and held her breath, trying to keep from drowning in unexpected and unwanted feelings.
Chapter Eight
Andreia checked her reflection a second time. Being seen with Roshan would attract even more attention than usual, and it was important to look her absolute best. She knew the public wondered why, at her age, she hadn’t entered a union with anyone. Most Onotharians married early in life, in their late twenties at least. The fact that she seldom became involved with anyone romantically would make this date even more interesting. Her parents had tried to push her into the arms of several eligible people over the years, both male and female. However, Andreia’s double life didn’t allow anything but casual relationships, one or two nights at the most, which she found utterly dissatisfying. Sometimes she shed reluctant tears to know that she was destined for solitude as long as she led the life of Boyoda, and eventually she stopped trying for a “normal” life.
Andreia reached for a long, silver-spun caftan and pulled it over her deep red fairy-silk tunic and black pants. They were supposed to fit her as if she’d been poured into them, but felt a bit too tight, and Andreia wondered if she’d gained weight again. Andreia shook her head as if that would clear it and reset her frame of mind. She fastened the transmitter inside her dress and made sure it was operational, then inserted the tiny earpiece. She took every precaution these days.
After braiding a red and silver ribbon into her unruly hair, she fastened it in at the nape of her neck. She had enhanced her eyes with crème-kohl, a black, smooth makeup paste that enhanced and glimmered on her skin, and accentuated the amber in her irises. Once her eyes had shown every emotion as if she’d shouted them from the rooftops. She’d practiced for years before she could make them become blank and indifferent.
Tonight, she needed the opposite. She was going to spend the evening in Roshan’s company, and anyone watching them needed to be convinced that they meant something to each other. How hard will it be to pretend? Andreia tapped her foot, annoyed at her lack of focus, and decided she was done.
A green shimmer and a high-pitched tone announced an incoming call on the large view screen in the bedroom.
“Receive call,” Andreia commanded.
The image of her mother appeared. “Henshes, are you ready to leave soon? I still think it would be better if we arrived as a family.”
“I told you, Mother, I have plans.”
“You haven’t told me what those plans are. We always do things like this together. Why this sudden change?”
“I have a date.” Andreia regretted her words as soon as they left her lips.
“A date?” Le’Tinia jumped on the statement like a stinger-lizard. “With whom?”
Gods of Gantharat. “Roshan O’Landha.”
Le’Tinia’s mouth formed a perfect “o.” “Impressive,” she acknowledged, nodding slowly. “O’Landha has created quite an empire for herself. You could do worse. Is this a rekindling of your old friendship? I’m surprised, since I assumed you two had a major falling-out.”
“We did, but it was all a…misunderstanding.”
“Which you settled when you saw her recently?”
Andreia deliberately arranged her facial muscles in a sweet smile. “Yes, Mother. Now, you don’t want me to be late, do you?”
“Of course not. Run along.” Le’Tinia looked smug, which worried Andreia. “I can see a future in this, henshes. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“Mother, don’t interfere—”
“There, there. Run along.” Le’Tinia logged off.
With simmering anger at the way her mother addressed her—patronizing and implying that she needed guidance even at this age—Andreia forced herself to breathe evenly. In her mother’s eyes, she’d never been more than a useful decoration, and it hurt, even if she knew her own capabilities and strengths.
She entered the airlock and closed the door behind her. The view screen showed the docked hovercraft waiting outside, and Andreia pressed a button to open the outer hatch. Climbing into the enhanced hovercraft, she sat down and willed her shoulders to relax. Soon she’d be on Roshan’s arm, and they’d spend the evening together for the first time in twenty-five years.
The last time they’d been together, before the animosity between them erupted, they’d borrowed a boat and gone to the Three Wishes Lakes. Roshan had tried to convince Andreia of the magic of the lakes: if a person let the water close over her head and stayed under as long as possible, her true love and soul mate would find her.
Andreia had laughed, but complied just to make Roshan happy. They held hands and let themselves fall backward, off the edge of the boat, and into the water. It was cool, but refreshing, and it wasn’t hard to hold her breath for quite a while. When Andreia surfaced, the first thing she saw in the faint light of the boat’s small lantern was Roshan’s broad smile and the tenderness shining from her eyes. Water streamed down her bold face, and her waist-long hair lay like wet wings down her back. Beauty was too vague a word for how Roshan had looked that moonlit evening.
It was the closest they’d come to kissing each other. And how I regretted over the years that I didn’t kiss her at least once.
She sat in silen
ce, leaned her head against the backrest, and allowed herself to dream. This was how she coped. When her responsibilities became too much, and the demands from the interim government and her parents overwhelmed her, she withdrew and let her imagination soar. On occasion she used the holographic imagizer, connected to a sensory device to block out everything but the brief euphoric pleasure it gave her.
“The Palace’s main entrance, ma’am,” the driver announced, startling Andreia out of her thoughts.
“Thank you. I’ll page you in a few hours.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
Andreia exited the hovercraft and looked around the area below the wide marble stairs. Elegantly dressed men and women strolled to the tall double doors. Several of them nodded toward Andreia, and she quickly returned their smiles while searching for Roshan.
“Andreia!” a resonant voice said from behind, making her jump.
“Roshan!” Andreia turned around and caught her breath. “You look…wonderful.” It was true. Roshan wore a black, tailored long-tail jacket over slate gray pants tucked into knee-high, black boots. A crisp white shirt lightened the ensemble. Something red at Roshan’s neck caught Andreia’s attention. “That’s beautiful. An amazing piece of jewelry.”
“It’s a Merealian ruby that I inherited from Mother. She always said it would be mine one day, since the queen gave it to her when I was born.”
Andreia was amazed at Roshan’s candid words. She knew Roshan had grown up idolizing her parents, and it hadn’t surprised anyone when Roshan decided to follow in her human father’s footsteps by becoming a physician.
Andreia had met Roshan’s parents many times, often mesmerized at how close-knit the O’Landhas were. Mikael O’Landha, who had taken his wife’s surname when they married, had been so proud of his family. A gentle, low-key man, he’d spoken of his travels and told how he, as a young, new doctor, had worked at a remote terra-forming colony on a small planet on the outskirts of the Supreme Constellations.
There he met Jin-Jin when her parents’ ship landed to make repairs while on their way back to Gantharat. Completely smitten, he’d arranged for another physician to replace him, and when the new doctor arrived, he’d been ready to follow Jin-Jin to Gantharat.
“Is everything all right?” Roshan frowned. “You seem…preoccupied.”
“I’m fine. Let’s go inside.” Andreia placed her hand in the crease of Roshan’s arm.
“All right.”
As they ascended the stairs together, Andreia could feel the looks other people gave them. “Seems we’re the center of attention. This might work out a little too well.”
“Yes. We’re not supposed to steal the chairman’s thunder,” Roshan agreed, a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “But, all in a good cause, right?”
“Naturally.”
They entered the vast hallway, decorated in Onotharian colors: emerald green and pale yellow. The Onotharian crest, two mythical water dragons encircled by a golden bank with ancient markings, hung from the gallery. Beneath it, Dixmon M’Isitor, the leader of Gantharat’s interim government, stood with his wife, and to the left of them, Chairman M’Ocresta stood, perfectly poised. Dressed entirely in black, she looked impressive, despite her diminutive size.
“Here we go,” Roshan murmured as they approached their hosts.
“Andreia, you’re beautiful!” M’Isitor exclaimed, and kissed her forehead.
Annoyed that M’Isitor acted like a loving uncle in front of all the people present at the historical function, Andreia merely smiled. She felt Roshan squeeze her hand closer against her body, as if to help her stay focused.
“Thank you, Dixmon,” Andreia replied, deliberately using his first name to point out that they were equals.
Roshan greeted the hosts and the chairman in the traditional Gantharian way, with her hand on her chest and an elegant bow of her upper body.
“Dixmon, Casta, you know of Roshan O’Landha—”
“Oh, Ms. O’Landha needs no introduction,” Casta M’Isitor gushed, and reached both hands toward Roshan. She was a tall, curvaceous woman with blue-black hair assembled in an elaborate hairdo. Excessive makeup emphasized her almost animalistic aura. Andreia knew people referred to Casta as one of the most beautiful Onotharian women alive, but she disagreed, put off by Casta’s overzealous personality.
“Your reputation precedes you, Roshan,” Casta continued, and obviously didn’t care about etiquette at functions like these, calling her guest by her first name. “I’ve admired you for quite some time. I’ve actually paged your office on several occasions to invite you to my organization’s meetings. We had our annual conference a little more than two weeks ago, but your assistant kept saying you weren’t available.”
Andreia looked at Roshan, who in turn didn’t so much as blink.
“I’ve been on many off-planet business trips lately, Mrs. M’Isitor. I have to sample the merchandise before I bring it back to our homeworld.”
It was obvious that Roshan wouldn’t exchange any favors with Casta and her organizations, which Andreia knew were mostly about raising money for Dixmon’s campaigns back home on Onotharat.
Though the Gantharians didn’t have a say regarding who decided their fate, the Onotharians voted every six years for who sat in the most powerful positions, except for the chairmen, whom the current government appointed for life when a chair was available, which occurred only when one of them passed away. Andreia smirked inwardly. Quite a few of the chairmen had suffered wrongful deaths over the last centuries, since it was the only way to get rid of someone you regretted voting in. The practice also kept the chairmen in check, to a degree, since too-controversial politics was the same as a death sentence. And no matter how odd it sounded, this system made it possible for the Onotharians to call themselves a democracy.
“Well, perhaps next month then, Ms. O’Landha.”
At least Casta could take a hint. She sounded quite subdued and wouldn’t meet Roshan’s eyes. Andreia knew the feeling. She half expected Roshan to drill those icicle eyes into her at any given moment.
“Ms. O’Landha. Ms. M’Aldovar. A pleasure to see you again.”
“Well met, Chairman. The pleasure is all on our side.” Andreia was almost grateful to have Villia M’Ocresta interrupt the awkward chat. “We’re sad to see you depart so soon.”
“I have urgent business to take care of. I leave for my vessel tonight, but we won’t break orbit until tomorrow.”
“I hope you have a serene and peaceful voyage,” Roshan said.
“Thank you. I hope so. I’m getting too old to travel, I fear.” Clear, dark eyes, not looking old at all, contradicted M’Ocresta’s words.
“I disagree,” Andreia dutifully remarked. “You’re by no means old, Chairman. Merely wise.” She wondered if she had spread the honey-cream too thick. Another squeeze on her hand told her this might be the case.
M’Ocresta seemed to swallow it, though. “Thank you. Most kind. Perhaps I’ll see you inside? And you as well, Ms. O’Landha?”
“We’d like an opportunity to chat with you, ma’am,” Roshan said, the low purr in her voice not wasted on the older woman. “We can all learn from your example.”
They walked over to the entrance of the ballroom, out of earshot, and Andreia had to laugh when they both drew a deep breath.
“Too much of that, and I’d break out in a rash.” Roshan smirked with night-demons dancing in her eyes. “And if it hadn’t been for the fact that all the people around us were listening in, I wouldn’t have been able to pull it off. Disgusting.”
“Yes, that’s my sorry existence,” Andreia said, and made a wry face. “Disgusting is right. I’m well trained in flattering the right people, and it gets easier with time. I’m sure you’ve had to do the same.”
“Yes, and I hate it. Throw me into battle any time.”
People gathered around them, and soon food was spread out on the tables lining the floor. Andreia and Roshan circled
the room with thermo-glass plates in their hands, neither of them very hungry, but they gave the impression of eating.
Several times, people were so interested in their presence, they literally bumped into them. Eventually, after two Onotharian politicians crowded her, Andreia stumbled backward right into Roshan, only barely avoiding falling in her thin-sole boots. By then, Roshan had obviously had enough. Taking the plate out of Andreia’s hands, she handed it to a servant.
“This is ridiculous. They’re obviously expecting us to perform, so why not? Let’s give them something to see.”
Breathless and confused, Andreia watched Roshan walk over to the head servant standing just inside the ballroom doors. They exchanged a quick word, and Roshan pressed something into his hand so fast that Andreia wasn’t sure if she actually saw it happen. She’s bribing the servants? Oh, for stars and skies!
Classical music began streaming from its sources up under the tiered ceiling, five meters up. It was the customary Onotharian First Dance, meant as an honor to the couple opening the dance at distinguished social functions. Roshan crossed the floor in long strides, and Andreia wasn’t sure she liked the look on her face. She seemed determined and—spiteful?
“We can’t,” Andreia murmured. “There are protocols…regulations—”
“And what did I always say about regulations and protocols?” Roshan asked.
“If not break them, then at least bend them.” How could I forget that?
“That’s right. May I have this dance, veiled rose?”
The unexpected use of their secret anagram, love desire, not to mention the teasing tone of voice, made Andreia stumble on her words. She hadn’t heard the phrase for so long, for obvious reasons, and now... “Mother will have a fit. The M’Isitors will hate me. Very well. Let’s dance, then.”
Andreia tried to sound casual, but nothing could have prepared her for what she felt when Roshan clasped her waist and began to walk backward. When they’d cleared the crowd of people and Andreia felt cool marble change into wooden flooring, Roshan’s steps turned into dance steps, moving Andreia flawlessly around the floor.