The shell plates covering the Trispian’s chest heaved, and its eyes blinked erratically, the pin-dot pupils lost within its yellow irises. This alien was irrelevant to my father, but it was relevant to me. Behind its eyes lay a brain, something more than just a bundle of nerves. As the alien cried with eyes pleading for compassion and the end of its pain, I knew it was a creature who could think, learn, problem solve, and communicate with others of its species.
To me, irrelevant was a bog slug. Relevant was anything above that lowly plated terrestrial mollusk on the Enestian taxonomy. I couldn’t watch a tri-horned hog dissected and killed any easier than I could this Trispian.
My whole body became ill, beginning at my stomach and working its way up my throat. With the ting of metal upon metal as my father selected a bladed tool from his collection, the plates at my spine locked, and for a moment, I thought my knees would buckle, sending me to the ground.
“But it’s still alive,” I blurted as my father approached the alien. He glared at me from over his shoulder. Did I dare question the king? “I, um, I mean, I always thought a dissection took place on something that was dead,” I lied.
“I always begin with a live subject,” he said with a wink. “It will be dead shortly, and in the meantime, I can observe its tolerance to pain.”
I swallowed so hard that I felt the lump in my throat knock against my shell as it went down. America would be given this same fate, tortured until her death, cut into pieces, and displayed like an award. I couldn’t let that happen.
My father’s shell-spitting tool flashed under the light. As the Trispian’s eyes bugged, I felt mine do the same. As its chest plates overlapped, scraping with each breath, my own breathing became labored, and my eyes watered uncontrollably. This was what my father considered being a man? Yes, a man could do these things—a cruel, selfish, unforgiving man whose need for power overrode his sense of dignity and appreciation of life.
At that moment, I knew I could never be my father. I could never take his place as king if I was expected to continue his gruesome legacy. During my ambassadorship, I’d be expected to partake in every dissection, supporting my father’s quest to rule the galaxy by exposing the weaknesses of fellow races.
I’d have to change things, find a way to eliminate that requirement of my post, and then as king, I’d find the support to stop this barbaric practice altogether.
The shell at the Trispian’s waist split under the spike of the blade and the king’s strength. The Trispian’s eyes closed under a pain I couldn’t imagine. I drew away from the table as my communication cuff fluttered with light. It was Lestra. I answered, turning on my heels.
“Yes, I will be there in a few minutes,” I said loudly and before she could speak. “Father,” I continued, spinning to face the table. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been called back to the palace.” Staying composed was almost impossible, especially after I spied the Trispian’s bright orange blood pooling underneath it on the table. “Maybe I can witness a more relevant dissection. I’ve actually become bored with this one,” I lied again.
The plates above his eyes came together. “Very well. We can continue your integration into our practices tomorrow. We’ll begin with a complete tour of the lab in the morning. That should give you some satisfaction until my team seizes a more appropriate alien specimen for study. I’ll inform Slaine Timuary of your impending visit, as he is lead guard. In addition, I’ll expect your presence at our next team meeting,” he said, his breath thick with the smell of fermented quips.
“Thank you, Father, my king,” I said, excusing myself with a bow and diverting my eyes away from the bloody knife in my father’s gloved hand.
Slaine met me at the door to escort me from the cellblock, and as the door resealed behind me, I heard the chilling crack of shell echoing from the back of the room. I could only hope the Trispian was already dead, and its suffering had ended.
In the hall leading to my quarters, I let my feet stamp the floor hard to settle the contents in my stomach, and I thought of America, her soft, delicate shape, her light voice, and crisp, ear-pleasing laugh. So helpless. So vulnerable.
And then I imagined her in the lab, writhing and screaming under my father’s knife, her soft skin erupting like the squeezed casing of a ripe quip. The pain would be unbearable. She’d flail and fight against the restraints, her back buckling like that of the Trispian’s, while the contents of her veins pooled into the wells of the table.
My father— I’d never let him get his hands on her. Now I knew I had to stop him, but how?
My chest tingled within my shell as I longed to touch the human, hold her shell-less hand, and tell her everything would be okay—a promise I wish I could make.
“Hello, dear prince,” Murelle snickered, entering the hall.
Damn Murelle. That dissection almost made me forget about her meddling into my business. Whether she meant to or not, she was always ruining or almost ruining something for me. Why her sudden interest in lab work? She must have known I was going to ask, but who told her? Lestra? She’s the only person who knew my plan. But she wouldn’t betray my trust.
“And why are you so smug? I’m the one who won this battle.” Although at that moment, I almost wished I hadn’t.
“What are you talking about?” She stroked her golden arm.
“Father gave me access to the lab, not you. I get to work with his team and at his side.”
“You? You asked to work with Father?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Murelle. Someone told you I wanted to work in the lab. Who was it?” Lestra entered the other end of the hall, her drab tunic stiff and cone-shaped. “It was you, wasn’t it, Lestra?”
“Me? What, your royal? What are you talking about?” She blinked hard.
“You told Murelle that I wanted admittance into the lab.”
“No, I didn’t. I s-swear,” she stuttered, looking almost as sad and displaced as the human girl we saw on the monitor in my quarters.
“Oh, leave her alone, Brother. She didn’t tell me anything.”
“And how do I know you’re not lying for her?”
“Because that girl would never betray you.” Murelle stroked the jewels on the top of her hand.
“How do you know?”
“Because she’s in love with you.”
I didn’t answer but shot a glance at Lestra, who turned away from me and clasped her hands behind her back.
“Oh, come on now, princey. Can’t you tell? Think about the way she looks at you, how her hands shake when she’s next to you, how her wardrobe has changed over the last few months, showing just enough cleavage to give you a peek at her tits.” She faced Lestra. “As if a servant had a chance.” My sister laughed.
“Leave her alone.”
Was she really in love with me? She was acting funny lately, telling me things she wasn’t supposed to and getting too close so I’d notice she was sporting shell powder. If it was true, she was going out of her way to help me, not because she wanted to be my royal adjutant, but because she wanted to be more than just my personal servant, something that would never happen.
“And what about my shell powder, Lestra?” Murelle continued. “One of my tins is missing, and you were the last one in my room. I know you took it.” She glared and her shell lips turned up awkwardly.
Lestra gave Murelle a cold stare and maintained eye contact until Murelle blinked and crossed her arms. Without acknowledging me, Lestra turned and marched down the hall. My sister was right. Everything she said about Lestra was true. I just never wanted to believe it. I didn’t need the complication. Even if I were interested in her, Lestra could never mean more to me than a friend.
“That was fucked up, Murelle.”
“So?”
“So, she’s a Timuary. She warrants some respect. She doesn’t deserve to be humiliated. You’re as spiteful as you were before the turn of your nineteenth year. Grow up.” I moved forward, backing Murelle up against the wall.<
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“What do you care, unless you love her, too? So, do you, big brother, have your heart set on a mere maid?” Murelle sneered as the fan of shell on her chest rose with a deep breath, and her black and purple-rimmed eyes showed a tad of fear.
“I have a better question for you, little sis,” I said, putting my hands on Murelle’s shoulders, pinning her against the wall and concentrating all of my anger toward my father on to her.
“Stop. You’re going to crack my shell,” she said, blinking and turning her head from side to side. With quick breaths, Murelle’s shells clacked, and I released her.
“Then answer this: why your sudden interest in the research lab?”
“I don’t know,” she shouted.
“Yeah, you do, and you better tell me.”
“Move aside, or I’m going to tell Father.”
“You’ll tell him anyway, so what do I care? I’m not going to let you leave you until you tell me the truth.”
“Okay, okay. It’s…” She gave me a kick and dodged to my left, but I caught her by the shoulder.
“It’s what?”
“It’s Slaine Timuary, okay? He’s, you know, hot, and he’s no longer just a servant. He’s head guard now. He’s moved into the guards’ quarters, so I don’t see him anymore. And yeah, I know he’s still off-limits, but Dad’s going to marry me off in a few years.” She turned her cheek to the wall. “Who knows what my husband will look like, and if I’ll really love him. So, I figure I might as well lose my virginity to someone decent looking while I have the chance.”
That was the last thing I wanted to think about—my sister having sex.
My stomach soured, and I made a face. “You’re fucking Slaine?”
“No, not yet. I mean, he doesn’t even know I want to. I’m still working on it.”
“And you criticized Lestra?” I sighed, releasing my trampy sister. “Slaine would never break his oath to our family and take you into his bed, and just because you want to fuck Lestra’s brother doesn’t give you the right to embarrass her like that.”
“Oh, so you are in love with her.” She took a lungful of air.
“I’m not in love with her, but I do care for her. Enough said.”
“Okay, maybe so, but why your sudden interest in the lab? I know you hate father’s research, or you would have taken intergalactic biology the minute you had the chance.”
“I don’t need to explain myself to you, little sis. Remember, I am going to rule this planet someday, not you.”
“Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll figure out why on my own,” she said, sneering at me from over her shoulder as she turned down the hall.
I walked to the end of the hall, hoping Lestra was waiting for me outside my quarters, but she was gone. Why had she called me from the lab?
As much as I wanted to know, now was definitely not the time to find her and ask.
Chapter Thirteen
America
An alien stood on the other side of the glass curtain, as still as a Buckingham Palace guard, but it wasn’t Garran. This Enestian was taller and broader, and his head sat upon a shorter, thicker neck. I could only assume it was a male, and he was the guard assigned to my cellblock.
Why was it here?
Fifteen days hadn’t passed, only five, maybe six at the most. It was hard to tell without the light of the sun or glow of the moon to give me a hint at the time. It had been a day or more since Garran’s last visit, and I could only hope he hadn’t given up on helping me.
My body tightened, and I cringed, choking out a soft cry against my cupped hands. I was so cold and so hungry. This morning when I awoke, there was another tray of food bricks on the floor of my cell. I took a nibble from the brown one, but it had been so dry and tasteless I didn’t take another bite.
I had to get out of here! I had to get home!
With cheeks hot and eyes ready to spill tears, I approached the thick, waterfall-like wall and leaned forward to study the alien’s profile.
“My name is America,” I said slowly and with an exaggerated motion pointed to my chest. “America.” The alien remained silent. “America,” I repeated. “From Earth.”
What was the use? This alien was definitely not Garran’s sister or Garran’s language professor or it would have spoken to me in English.
But just as I was about to plop to the floor, the alien stepped closer. “Slaine,” he said, motioning to his chest the same way I had. “Enestian,” it added.
“Slaine,” I repeated. “I’m cold,” I said and mimed being so by shivering and rubbing my arms.
And then he turned and walked away. I stepped closer to the wall, but the blur was gone, and I sank to the floor, sick with being lonely again and afraid, but relieved I wasn’t being taken somewhere to be examined and killed.
Garran. I wanted Garran for comfort, the sweet, gentle Enestian whose tone alone let me know that he understood my pain. My insides warmed as I closed my eyes and envisioned his strong, humanly profile and the line of his sharp jaw behind the flowing wall. What did he look like, this sweet, sympathetic being covered in shell?
But why? How could the blurred outline of something non-human elevate my heart rate pleasantly when I thought of him? Why did I wonder what it would feel like if he touched me? Maybe even kissed me? Or more? Fuck. I was going to die in two weeks and would never know what more really was.
“America.”
It was Garran. I straightened my back and moved closer to the cloudy wall as my pulse increased. He dropped to the floor across from me.
“Thank you for coming back.” For caring about me. For wanting to see me.
“You don’t need to thank me. I wanted to come.”
I folded my chilly arms across my breasts, and when I took a deep breath, my cheeks warmed. “There was someone here a few minutes ago.”
“Yes, that was Slaine. The guard assigned to your cell.”
“Where is he now?”
“Distracted. If he knew I was here, he’d report it.” He rubbed the top of his head. “I’m not sure how much longer I can visit you without it being detected. Yesterday, I was granted access to the lab. I hope to gain entry to your cell within the next few days, and then…”
“And then you’ll take me home?”
“If I can, but first I need to get you out of here and away from the lab, then—”
“Home?” I asked, and rose to my knees.
“Yes, I’m not going to let you die, I promise,” he said confidently and unblinking. “I will do anything to stop that from happening, but getting you to the Laguna Mountains will be more difficult than freeing you from this cellblock.”
The Laguna Mountains. He pronounced it like La-gun-a, making me smile. I closed my eyes and imagined Mount Laguna, majestic and unyielding. Where I live. How I missed it so much, even the stupid little things like how one of the cabinets in my kitchen would never quite close all the way, how the guy in the next apartment would play his music way too loud on weekend nights, and how Attie always left crumbs on the counter after making a sandwich. I’d like to show Garran where I lived. Maybe take him for coffee at Robusta and play him a Motley Crue album.
“I’ve seen pictures of your Laguna Mountains. They were full of snow. I’ve never seen snow before. The rain on Enestia doesn’t freeze.”
“Then you’re missing out. Snow can be fun.”
“What can you do with snow?”
“You can ski on it, sled on it, and pack it into balls and throw it at people.” I laughed, remembering my last snowball fight with Attie.
Garran tilted his head. “You hit people with snow?”
“Yeah. It’s a game. It’s called a snowball fight.”
“So, if we were on Earth together, and it was snowing, would you throw a snowball at me?” He laughed.
My insides sparked. “I sure would,” I teased. And then we could warm up later with hot chocolate, snuggling together under a blanket. I’d put my head on his shoulder…
> “Is that what you were doing with your friends before you were taken and brought here, having a snowball fight?”
“No, it wasn’t snowing at the time. It only snows in the winter. Right now where I live, it’s spring.” Spring—my favorite season. The daffodils and tulips I planted in the big terracotta pot on my apartment balcony were about to bloom, something I’d now miss, just like I’d never see another spring. My stomach burned, the sensation rising in my throat.
“And you were there with your friends.”
“Yeah, Atlanta, Logan, and Kevin.”
“A female and two males?” Garran asked, tilting his head.
I nodded. “Logan is Atlanta’s boyfriend.”
“And Kevin, he is yours?” Garran asked slowly.
“No, I don’t have a boyfriend. Kevin and I hardly knew each other.”
I swallowed hard. Kevin, even with his hot athletic build, would have never become my boyfriend. The two of us just never clicked.
But here I was instead, talking to an alien I’d never seen and who made my heart jump when I studied his smooth profile.
“Your snowball fight reminds me of… Um, I don’t know how to translate the words. There are amphibians on our planet called knulls. During a heavy rain, they form a thick, clear bubble of mucus around their bodies. Once the rain stops, the knulls hop away, leaving their bubbles behind. Enestian children find them and throw them at each other. The bubbles pop when they hit, leaving a smear of mucus,” he said.
“Yuck.” I laughed, as something about this alien continued to put me at ease and paused my homesickness and fear of death. He promised he wouldn’t let me die. I had to believe that.
“Yeah, I never played when I was a kid, but I’ve always wanted to.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I wasn’t allowed. It’s not considered a dignified form of recreation for a—” Garran lowered his head, and his shoulders rose with a long breath.
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