Fighting Gravity

by Leah Petersen

  She was hovering near two of the least impressive looking men in the room, but from the way she was positioned and her complete lack of participation in the conversation, she was essentially alone. She stood by Lord Edwards, a very minor noble from Faln. I only knew him because I’d had a few encounters with him in his official capacity in procurement. From the resemblance I assumed she was a relative, probably a daughter, and I didn’t think I’d met her before. Though it was possible I just didn’t remember her. She was unremarkable and forgettable in every way.

  Lord Edwards was in animated conversation with another man I didn’t know. He was turned with his back to the room but his conversation partner saw me and, with a jerk, straightened up and watched me approach. Lord Edwards turned to see what had made the other man react. He actually jumped a little when he saw me standing there waiting to talk to him.

  “Your Grace!” he exclaimed.

  “Lord Edwards,” I greeted him. “Will you do me the honor of introducing me to this young lady? I’d like to ask her to dance.”

  He gaped at me, glancing at the girl, as if he was checking to see if she had changed since he’d last seen her. The young lady was watching me, wide-eyed, as white as a sheet.

  “Your Grace, this is my daughter, Elizabeth.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Elizabeth. Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

  She reddened from her collar to her hairline. For a moment she said nothing and then she dropped into a shaky bow and mouthed, “Yes, Your Grace.”

  It was obvious she had attempted to speak the words but no sound had come out. I took what I could get. I held out my hand to her and she placed hers in mine. She was trembling so much that I tucked her arm around mine so I would have a better hold on her in case she fainted.

  Thankfully she didn’t and we made our way into the crowd of dancers. She danced nicely, not the stumbling, nervous manner I’d expected. She said nothing at all, however, so I did my best to carry on light conversation. She did occasionally nod or mouth “Yes, Your Grace,” but as for actual spoken words, there were none. That is, until I mentioned the subject of my current work.

  “We’re studying that in school,” she whispered.

  It was quiet but audible. Once she got started, she managed to relax just enough that the rest of the conversation was, if not stimulating, at least pleasant. She seemed sensible and bright. When the dance ended I found that I hadn’t been watching for it, as I had with Duchess Xian.

  I thanked her for the dance once I led her back to her father. She blushed as she bowed again.

  I was too far away from any other desirable target to avoid the next two ladies who attempted to snap me up, but I told them that I had promised the next dance to Aliana. I hadn’t, but from where I stood, she didn’t appear to be in danger of taking to the floor with someone else and I hoped that I could catch her in time to claim her.

  I did. She told me, once we were safely alone among the other spinning couples, that I’d looked desperate.

  I told her how things were going so far and she laughed with me at the foolishness and snobbery of others. She helped me position myself so that I claimed Kirti for the next dance before anyone else intercepted me.

  I hadn’t been alone with Kirti since Pete had appeared at breakfast that morning and the wait hadn’t helped me figure out what to say to her. But she saved me.

  “He really loves you, doesn’t he?” she asked.

  “He seems to.”

  “Good,” she said, and the matter of how she and I stood with each other seemed to be closed.

  I made an effort to alternate every dance that evening with a partner of high rank followed by a partner of low rank. Though, privately, I thought the distinction was all in their heads—as everyone in the room who wasn’t a servant belonged to one of the highest classes. They noticed the pattern before long. The most important among them began to look frustrated and insulted. Which was the point.

  Later that night, when we were alone, Pete asked me about my unorthodox pattern of partners and I explained it all to him. He laughed, and after that night, he regularly chose dance partners of low rank, too. Of course, I liked it best when he danced with me.

  fg39

  It took me two days to work up the courage to speak to Pete about his grant.

  “Why Mexico?” I said as we ate breakfast.

  He looked up at me. “I’d think that would be obvious.”

  “I’d think it would have been nice for you to ask me what I thought of that. Pete, that’s…”

  He waited. But when I didn’t continue he said. “I thought you’d like it. You’re the one who would understand its poverty issues. It certainly seemed important to you two years ago.”

  “And what am I supposed to do about that? I’m a physicist, not a politician. We’ve all seen what happens when I get anywhere near political issues.”

  “It’s just a symbolic position, Jake. The governor’s still in place. You can ignore them if you really want.”

  I glared at him.

  “See? It obviously matters to you what happens to them. Why not be a symbol of hope for them? You can speak up for them and maybe even help improve their lives. Clearly we’re not doing it right without you. Just pay a visit, shake the governor’s hand and smile at the pretty girls. It’ll mean a lot to them. And then you can worry about the rest of it when you come back.”

  I bit my lip and looked down at my plate. “I’m not sure I can handle this. I think you’re asking too much of me.”

  “And I think you’re underestimating yourself.”

  -

  So I went, and Kirti and Chuck and Dr. Okoro went with me.

  We never went near Mexico City, much less Abenez. A fact that made me feel both guilty and lightheaded with relief.

  But as our parade wound through the capital city of Puerto Vallarta, we came upon part of the crowd markedly different from the rest; their poverty made even more obvious by the glittering buildings of the financial district they stood in.

  “I took the liberty,” Jonathan said, “of making sure the unclass had access to the parade route. Though, as you can see, they were restricted to this one section.”

  The injustice of it burned in my gut.

  But as I looked at them, it hit me like a punch in the face that I’d never cared about them at all. Everything I’d ever said or done in defense of the unclass was for myself, not them. They scared me too. It wasn’t that I was a defender of my people, I was just too proud to be marginalized and prejudged. I hadn’t been trying to help them. I’d been trying to fix them, to pretty up a shameful part of my past.

  I closed my eyes tight against that condemning realization.

  “Your Grace?” Jonathan said.

  I glared at him, privately thankful he’d done one of the things guaranteed to distract me: call me that title. He knew I hated it and I’d asked him at least three times not to use it.

  He stared me down. I dropped my eyes first.

  “I think I’m an asshole,” I said.

  “It’s not an incurable condition.”

  That got a huff of amusement out of me.

  “We need to do something about it, Jonathan.”

  “We will.”

  -

  My friends stayed at the palace through the full week of celebration of the engagement. Every night’s dinner was a feast, with the chefs attempting to outdo their spectacular creations of the night before. Each night there was a ball, more grand and splendid than the last. There was something going on at all times throughout the whole of the palace. Plays and exhibitions and concerts were in constant rotation.

  I proposed a soccer game between the best of the amateur players at the palace, with Pete and me the captains of the opposing teams. The players voted for their all-stars and Pete and I divided them up—with plenty of good-natured bickering—into two teams. Out of consideration for myself and also the others playing with us, I positioned myself opposit
e Pete. Everyone loved that.

  It was a good game and my team won. Pete challenged me to the best two of three. His team won the next two games. So I challenged him to the best three of five. After two more, hard-fought games, my team won our third by one goal. The crowd was wild with excitement.

  We returned to our rooms, hot, sweaty, and high on adrenaline and goodwill.

  We were in the bathroom stripping for the shower. “You know, you may be better at this politics thing than you think you are,” Pete said.

  “Huh?”

  “The games, that was a brilliant strategy. I don’t think you could have done anything that would have worked better to sway public opinion in your favor.”

  “That’s not why I did it.”

  He grinned. “I know. That’s why it worked so well. Something so basic and universal as sports and competition is an equalizer of sorts. You saw them today, screaming and cheering, for your team, for you. They forgot who you were or weren’t. And the fact that your team won? All those who were rooting for your team rode out of there on a wave of high spirits and victory and they know that you were part of what gave that to them. This is going to change things, you’ll see.”

  “Are you saying you let us win?”

  “Of course not. Imagine how excited they’d have been if I’d beaten you.” He grinned.

  “You couldn’t beat me if your life depended on it,” I said, stepping into the shower.

  “Oh yeah?” he said, following me in and backing me against the wall. “We’ll see about that, Mr. Dawes.”

  He was right. There was a distinct change in the general treatment I received after that. People stopped me in the hallway to enthuse about the win. Servants, functionaries, and other palace employees and residents would wave as I passed in the hallway. It was odd and gratifying. It had always galled to be judged for something I had no control over; the approval I found now at least had a basis in something I had achieved myself.

  There was a parade midweek, Pete and I rode in all pomp and circumstance through Imperial City; which I hated.

  Not long into the procession, as I was surveying the crowd, I was stopped by the face of one man. There was nothing particularly strange about the man himself, only his manner. Lost among a sea of people loud in their happiness, his face was very serious, his gaze, when locked with mine, intense, almost grieving.

  There was nothing about him that was overtly frightening, he didn’t strike me as some mad discontent who would assassinate the emperor or his intended for his own twisted ends. And yet my gut knotted. Something about him was familiar in a way that made my palms sweat. I couldn’t place him, though. I couldn’t even decide from which section of my life I imagined he belonged to. My first thought, from the way he made me feel, was Dead End. But I had vivid memories of my time there and I knew that wasn’t why he bothered me. If he’d been a servant, a functionary, a visitor, or anything like at either the IIC or the palace, I couldn’t conjure the memory. I wondered if he was from Abenez, but the idea was far-fetched, and anyway, I couldn’t picture who he would have been there, either.

  It was odd and unsettling, but my glimpse of him was brief and then he was gone. I couldn’t find any part of my past to connect him to, so I dismissed him as one of those people who simply looks familiar for no good reason and I forgot him.

  The last night of the week was the culmination of all the celebration. There was a ceremony planned for that night, an official pledging of our intention to marry. It was a long standing tradition born of the fact that most Imperial marriages were political alliances; a pledging of faith and intentions that was necessary for the furtherance of political ends, especially when the marriage, for any number of reasons, might be a long time off.

  Though I tried to get out of it, the ceremony was simple and painless. Oh, I was stuffed into ostentatious, uncomfortable clothes; Pete wore the official Imperial crown, I was forced into more jewelry than I was happy about. But in the end I only had to stand before the assembled and promise to marry Pete. That promise was easy to give.

  -

  The preparations for the emperor’s wedding didn’t take very long, in spite of the fact that such weddings are always, without a doubt, the most ornate, ostentatious, involved, and expensive. There were armies of servants and administrators who saw to arranging every detail. I had little to do with any of it. Beyond showing up where I was told I was needed and sometimes providing an opinion when it was asked of me, the preparations intruded little into my life.

  But now I was someone of importance. As a duke I had responsibilities, ceremonial and unimportant to my mind, but Pete insisted that I take them seriously. As Prince Consort I would have even more. Pete felt the transition would be easier if I worked into it gradually. I studied the formalities, the traditions, the unwritten rules of society at that level, and the expectations and responsibilities. I had very little time for the lab in the months before the wedding.

  One project I took upon myself, though, was restoring Davin to his position. I hated for Pete to lose what had been a relationship much like I’d had with Jonathan because of what I’d done. And also, I wanted Jonathan back.

  I consulted Jonathan first. He was the emperor’s head servant now, and there was no more prestigious posting for any servant in the Empire. An assignment to the Prince Consort was the next best thing, but it was still a demotion.

  I was nervous. I was afraid Jonathan would feel obligated to agree with me even if he didn’t want to. He’d always been too humble in my opinion; I wouldn’t put it past him to simply accept my suggestion as an order in spite of his own feelings on the matter.

  So I spent an excessive amount of time explaining to him what I wanted to do and why, and telling him over and over again it was up to him, that if he asked me not to pursue this, I wouldn’t. “Your Grace,” he said, “I do understand how these things work. And, you’ll forgive me, but you don’t seem to remember that it was my idea for Davin to be persuaded back into his position.”

  I blinked. Now that I thought about it, maybe he had been the one to bring it up.

  “Oh, well, you may be right,” I said. “You know, you work so hard at fading into the background that you make me think the things I hear you say were my own thoughts. You should quit doing that.”

  He gave me a long, bland look. “Yes, I’m sure I’m the reason you imagine things.”

  I laughed. “You’re glad to have me back, aren’t you, Jonathan?”

  His expression suddenly became serious. “Things are rarely so simple, Your Grace.”

  I stared at him, stunned. But then he gave me an apologetic smile.

  “But I am glad you’re back.”

  The next step was to talk to Pete. When I told him all that I knew from Jonathan, he was appalled. It took no persuasion. The next day he visited Davin at his apartment in Imperial City and asked him to come back. Davin did. I congratulated myself on a good deed done, and on having Jonathan for myself again.

  -

  Several weeks later, we lay together one night, sweaty and spent, his head on my chest. There was no moon and it was much darker than usual. His arm had fallen over my neck, a little too close, a little too heavy.

  For a moment I felt, heard, smelled Kafe as if I was in that cell again, and every muscle in my body tensed.

  “Mmmm?” Pete’s half-asleep question shattered the memory. I came back to the present in the shaky, cold aftermath of adrenaline. He lifted his head when I didn’t answer. “You OK?”

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice shaking. I bit down hard on my tongue and managed to steady myself. “Just a dream.”

  He accepted without question and laid his head back on my chest. Under the guise of finding a more comfortable position, I moved his arm well away from my neck. He shifted with me.

  I lay there, my heart racing. “Pete, you know the Resettlement camp I went to?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment and when he did his voice was thick with sleep. �
�No, actually,” he said, stirring as if he was trying to wake up enough for a conversation. His voice cleared. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t let myself find out where you were. I was afraid I’d… No. I don’t know. Why? What about it?”

  I fought an overwhelming urge to cry, and I wasn’t even sure why. “Nothing. Just wondering.”

  He was quiet for several minutes but I could tell from his breathing and the tension in his body that he wasn’t sleeping. Finally, as if he didn’t want to know but couldn’t help asking, he said, “Was it bad?”

  “No. No, it wasn’t. That’s why I wondered.”

  I felt the sigh through his whole body as he relaxed atop me again. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear that. I was afraid…Anyway, I’m so glad. I worried about it a lot.”

  I kissed his cheek and pulled him closer. “I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep. I love you.”

  “You didn’t wake me,” he protested, even as he was drifting off again.

  It was several hours later before exhaustion dragged me into sleep.

  fg40

  Time flew by until the day of our wedding arrived; less than six months after Pete had proposed.

  It was a colorful, overwhelming, elaborate affair. The ceremony was long and involved. And there was the necessity of a portion to be dedicated to installing me as a prince of the Empire, a member of the Imperial family, and for me to take the required vows and make the necessary promises required of those positions.

  But, in the midst of all of it, when everything was said and done, all that really mattered was that I pledged my life to the man I loved. He put a ring on my finger and I did the same for him. I made the promises and took the vows that were the real reason I stood there. And at the end, he was mine and I was his. Forever.