by J. M. Page
Aris cleared her throat. “You may not want to eat too much. The King has invited you to lunch this afternoon and it would appear rude to arrive without an appetite.”
Celine froze with her finger in her mouth, a sweet sticky substance on her tongue. She swallowed, cleaning her finger as she did and let her hand fall to her side, somewhat embarrassed by the way she’d lunged at the food. She had a lot to learn about the city and its customs. She didn’t want to be rude, especially not without knowing what it was that was rude.
“Thanks,” she said.
Aris nodded. “Would you like some help with the clothes?”
Celine was suddenly very aware of the wrinkled and stained garment she’d arrived with, trudged through the desert with, and then slept in. Everyone she’d encountered in the city was clean, starched and pressed. They all wore impeccable uniforms and there she was in a flowy curtain that looked like it hadn’t been washed… ever.
“Yes, please.”
Hours later, after Aris coached her on the fussy shower controls and laid out an outfit for her, Celine admired her reflection. Aris helped wrangle her waterfall of hair into a sleek and tidy ponytail, high atop her head, and she picked out a flattering dress the color of blush that was unlike anything Celine had ever worn.
Most of her attire was loose and breezy, but the dress Aris picked was nothing like that. It hugged Celine’s body, all smooth lines and crisp fabric. Her arms were bare, though there was enough fabric at the shoulders to completely cover the scar Scorpia gave her the day before.
It still amazed her how her arm felt like it had always been there. A few times that day she’d almost forgotten what it was like to have her old arm. But then the new one would do something wrong, making her miss the old one. Once she picked up a glass and held it so tight that it shattered, ruining the dress she was trying on. She felt guilty about the mess, but Aris just laughed and called someone in light blue to clean it up.
Still, Celine didn’t think she’d be getting quite the same treatment if it weren’t for her new arm and she had to admit she liked it. Rufus, on the other hand, did not.
“Don’t gooooo,” he whined as she twirled in the mirror. The skirt flared out from her hips just enough to give some movement and Celine beamed.
“Why shouldn’t I? What could possibly happen at lunch? Don’t you think if they wanted to execute me or something they’d have done it by now?”
Rufus whined. “But it’s the King. What does he want with you?”
Celine frowned. She’d wondered the same thing since Aris informed her of the luncheon. It sounded to her like the King had more than enough on his plate without wasting his time with some strange girl that appeared outside the wall.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “He’s Ben’s dad, and Ben’s been really welcoming, so why wouldn’t the King?”
She wondered who she was really trying to convince.
“Ben, Ben, Ben, listen to yourself!”
Celine rolled her eyes and patted Rufus as she often did. “I know you’re trying to look out for me, but it’s getting old. I’m doing this. Stay here and try not to blow a fuse until I come back, okay?”
Rufus beeped and grumbled at her the whole way out the door. Celine just smirked and shook her head as she left the room. He was nothing but a scaredy bot. Sometimes she considered fiddling with his caution programming, but Rufus was Rufus and changing him just wouldn’t be right.
Aris waited for her in the hallway and gave her a once-over before offering a curt nod and the tiniest satisfactory smile.
“Any pointers?” Celine asked, her stomach fluttery and nervous. “I’ve never had lunch with a king before.”
Aris giggled, taking Celine by the hand. Her first instinct was to pull away, not trusting her new arm, but Aris didn’t seem to notice.
“Well, first off, it’s not just the King who will be in attendance. There will be a few of his trusted advisors and some other high-ranking dignitaries. My biggest piece of advice? Be quiet and look pretty. If someone asks you a question, answer it as simply as possible. Things are already tense enough and they’re going to be eyeing you with an extra layer of scrutiny. Don’t give them anything to worry about.”
Though Aris seemed perfectly content with her little pep talk, Celine felt more worried than ever. Scrutiny? What kind of scrutiny?
Maybe Rufus wasn’t just a scaredy bot…
“Keep your hands visible at all times, it’s a sign of trustworthiness. Other than that… Well, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just look at you!” Aris stopped in front of a grand doorway and gave Celine a push forward.
Celine nearly tumbled into the dining hall. A table long enough to seat over a hundred people stretched from one end of the cavernous room to the other. Like her bedroom, one wall was completely made up of floor-to-ceiling windows, letting in a wash of warm orange light.
Down at the far end of the table, so far she had to squint to make out any discernable features, Celine spotted Ben and half a dozen other men all in different colors of the same crisp starched jumpsuit uniform.
“Celine! Join us,” Ben called, drawing attention to the both of them. Celine was sure now would be a good time to find a hole to crawl into.
She didn’t like the way the older men looked at her, eyes narrowed and suspicious. Then as she grew closer, they didn’t look suspicious anymore, only curious. Interested in a way that was unwelcome from anyone other than the Prince.
“I’m sorry, am I late?” she asked, taking the seat offered by one of the servants in all black. To her left, there was a white-haired man that paid her little attention, to her right, a long row of empty chairs. And directly across from Celine, was Ben, watching her with an unidentifiable twinkle in his eyes.
“Not at all,” he said, quiet enough she knew it was only meant for her ears.
The King kept one eye trained on his son and another on the newcomer.
“Bennett, you should introduce your guest,” he said.
Ben sent a look down the table toward his father that made Celine very grateful she wasn’t the recipient of it. There was something between those two, something tense and unspoken. She wasn’t the only one that noticed.
The other men around the table let their conversations fall silent, some shifting in their seat uncomfortably at the encounter between father and son.
Ben cleared his throat. “This is Celine…” he trailed off and looked at her, seeming to realize he didn’t have anything else to say.
“Velmann,” she offered. “My father is an engineer.” It was close enough to the truth that they would probably buy it. She hoped.
Ben nodded.
“Where are you from, Ms. Velmann? I heard you were discovered outside the wall,” a man to the King’s left said, beady eyes drilling holes into her story from down the table.
Celine reached for her glass of water, taking a long drink before she answered. She used the time to try to come up with something quick.
“Her ship seems to have veered off-course,” Ben said, saving her before she could dig herself any deeper. “Though most of her memories revolving around the incident have disappeared.”
It was Celine’s turn to nod, and she remembered Aris’s advice to say as little as possible.
“How unfortunate,” the man said, not sounding sympathetic in the least. “It’s a wonder our boys in grey didn’t shoot you out of the sky.”
Celine’s eyes went wide and she sputtered water the moment it touched her lips. Shoot her out of the sky?
“Might be a while before you’re able to go home,” the dark-skinned man to his right said. “The Grounding won’t make exceptions.”
Before she had a chance to think about that comment, an entourage of men in black swarmed the room with steaming plates of tantalizing food.
Celine ate her food in silence, careful to keep both hands in plain sight at all times, no matter how strong the
urge was to let one rest in her lap. At the other end of the table, the men shared a few words, but were otherwise quiet during the meal.
It wasn’t until the plates were cleared that the discussions started to pick up. Celine expected the meal to be over, but no one left their seat, so she stayed put, too.
The men in black brought out tiny plates, each with a multi-colored cube of sponge. Celine poked hers with the tines of her fork, watching for cues from the others.
“Domestic again,” the man to her left sneered as he took a bite of the dish.
The King cast him a sideways glance. “Yes. And our desserts will continue to be domestic until you stop blocking Senator Gurham’s bill.” His tone was smooth, without inflection or emotion, but Celine watched the man next to her sputter and turn fuchsia anyway.
“Senator Gurham’s bill is a farce and will have untold negative impacts on my Terran constituents,” he said.
Celine took a bite of the cube on her plate and was surprised to find it creamy and sweet, fluffy and light like sweetened air. She took another dainty bite and tried very hard to look only at the plate in front of her.
“Your constituents! More like your pockets!” another man said, dropping his fork. “Do you not think rations and shortages have negative impacts?”
Celine swallowed.
“Who are you to talk about rations? Your household near single-handedly props up the Black Market. We need tariff reform before we can lift the Grounding,” another barked.
Tension rippled in the air, a tangible thing between the group of men all used to getting their way without argument. Celine was half-convinced they’d come to physical blows any moment.
Searching for some glimpse of sanity, her eyes settled on the man directly across the table from her: Ben. His shoulders were tense, his hand gripping a fork with white knuckles. She spotted his pulse at the base of his neck, the artery pulsing just beneath his golden skin.
“What are your thoughts on the matter?” she asked him, forgetting Aris’s suggestion that she stay quiet. Things couldn’t get much worse anyway, could they?
The moment the words left her lips, the table fell silent. All eyes turned toward their end, each trained on Celine, bulging like she’d just grown an extra head. The King’s face even blanched before refilling crimson.
She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d done, but she knew it was a mistake.
Ben gave her the most imperceptible smile before he set down his fork and folded his hands.
“I think there are many issues facing our city, but none of them will be solved by punishing the populace or cutting ourselves off from the rest of the Universe. While I can understand that the Grounding seems prudent to diplomats and politicians out of touch with the world, I’ve seen the effect it’s had on all aspects of Terran life. There isn’t a single citizen, to my knowledge, that supports the move, and I think that speaks volumes more about its efficacy than anything I could say.”
Celine nodded, her face burning with the gazes of so many strangers. Her hands were clasped in her lap and she noticed how the older men all looked at her now with disdain. Looking back at Ben, she noted the twinkle in his eye. The one that said he wasn’t angry with her at all, maybe even amused.
That made her feel a little better.
Then, as the silence stretched on and on, he offered her a secret smile that made her heart stutter before flying. That little smile from the Prince was enough to erase any memories of her embarrassment.
The army of men in black returned to sweep the dessert plates away and in their place, they offered steaming mugs of bright green liquid.
It was then, when the other men were adding sweeteners to their drinks, that Celine realized, not one, but both of her hands were under the table. In a rush to correct the error, she threw her hands on top of the table. One hand obeyed perfectly, as it had her whole life. The other went wide, sweeping into her goblet of water. It wobbled and tipped, crashing into her neighbor’s glass. His, in turn, fell toward his neighbor’s and one-by-one, they crashed, splattered, and broke like a line of glass dominoes.
So much for forgetting her embarrassment.
All down her side of the table, uniformed men jumped to their feet, soaked from their own water glasses. The King, unflappable as he was, saw the catastrophe unfolding and moved his goblet aside before anything could happen to it. He returned his focus to the drink in front of him, as if nothing happened at all.
“Oh no, oh… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to mop up the mess she’d created.
Her stupid hand just kept ruining everything. Every time she thought she had it under control, it failed her again.
Ben reached across the table and grabbed her wrist, stopping her from taking her napkin to clean the whole table.
“Hey, it’s okay. Accidents happen. Sit down.”
She did as he said, though anger at herself still simmered just below the surface, hot tears pushed their way up, welling in her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. Not in front of the King. Not in front of Ben.
Thankfully, that was the last course of lunch and the rest went by without incident.
Later that night, Celine stood in front of her bedroom window once again, craning her neck to try and glimpse the sky beyond the clouds. Once again, she wasn’t having any luck.
She squinted, hoping for the faintest glimmer or twinkle. There was one moment when she thought she saw something, but really, it could have just been spots from straining her eyes.
Rufus rolled back and forth on the windowsill, giving the impression that he was pacing. She’d told him everything — even the embarrassing parts — about lunch, hoping he had some insight she didn’t.
He didn’t.
In fact, Rufus hadn’t changed his tune at all. “You’ve had your fun now. It’s time to go home, Celine. These people aren’t like you. They smile while insulting each other, how can you possibly trust them?”
Celine sighed, still watching the city as activity started to dwindle for the night.
“Go home where you belong, where there aren’t crazy people that…”
A sound from the door interrupted Rufus. Well, it didn’t interrupt him, he was still talking. The sound just diverted Celine’s attention away from his stale argument.
She tilted her head towards the door, wondering if she’d really heard anything at all.
Then, there it was again: scratching. Followed by a whine.
Celine frowned at the door, then with realization, she smirked and crossed the room to answer the door. The moment she pulled the door open, she was nearly bowled over by a great mass of shaggy violet hair.
Rufus let out a high-pitched squeal and dove off the windowsill, finding his way to a dark corner under a table.
The dog bounded over to the robot, seeing a new playmate. Her tongue lolled out and she crouched down on her front paws, tail thumping wildly back and forth.
Rufus made a break for it, zipping across the room to hide behind another piece of furniture.
“Keep that slobbering thing away from me!” he squealed. “No, get back, get back!” Rufus whirred and beeped, he tried any noise he could to dissuade the over-excited dog.
She chased him from one side of the room to the other and all Celine could do was laugh, dissolving into uncontrollable giggles as Rufus zoomed around screeching.
“No! I’m not a chew toy! Heeeeeeeelp.”
The dog had him cornered again and this time she let out a resounding bark that echoed throughout Celine’s massive bedroom.
“Shh, Bora, you’re going to wake up the whole palace, you silly mutt,” Ben said, stepping out from the shadows of the hallway.
Celine’s heart did a double-take before her pulse began racing anew. She took a step back from the doorway, her eyes locked in place as if the man himself were magnetic.
“Hi,” she said, her hands clenching at her sides. Sharp points of pain erupted in her palms as her fingernails dug in.
Hi? That was the best she could do?
Ben took another step into the vast bedchamber, his eyes locked on her, despite the playful romping of his furry companion.
“Hi,” he said.
Celine looked away, trying to get a grip. “I’m sorry about… Well, everything at lunch,” she said with a shrug. “I didn’t mean to say anything offensive…”
Ben laughed, closing the distance between them with another step. “You don’t need to be sorry. Those men have their heads so far up their… Well, the point is, you don’t need to be sorry. I never really get to speak my piece on these things.”
Celine frowned, hearing the resentment in his tone. “But you’re the Prince!”
Ben started to roll his eyes before he stopped, looking apologetic. “I’m nothing but a disappointment to my father. I was supposed to follow in his footsteps, politicking and diplomacizing. All I ever wanted to do was fly.”
Celine’s breath caught and she felt suddenly light-headed at the mention of flying.
And just the mental image of the Prince behind the controls did crazy things to her heart rate.
“Believe me, if I had any say, there wouldn’t be a grounding.”
Celine’s eyes drifted upwards, back to the spot in the sky she’d been trying to see since she arrived. The spot where the force field dome was at its highest and the clouds the thinnest. She wondered if there was a way to amplify the force field to get rid of the clouds all together.
“How does it work?” she asked, her voice dreamy as she searched for light beyond the haze.
Ben joined her at the windowsill and they both sat there, staring off. “I’m not sure we know. When the first settlers arrived this technology already existed. They built the city around it. There’s a control room somewhere deep in the palace, but I don’t think anyone’s ever been in there. At least not in a very long time. It just kind of… works on its own.”
“Oh,” Celine said, unable to hide her disappointment. She’d hoped Ben would offer some insight to how she could recreate the force field in the Wastelands. So she could get the other modders out of the tunnels and onto the surface. So they could travel the galaxy if they wanted…