Gordie makes an awkward sound and clears his throat again.
Gracie throws Gordie a look.
“He’s right, you really should eat!” she says, patting me on my other arm.
“Not hungry,” I say with a tired sigh.
And then the memory strikes me, amid the serene calm of these warm surroundings.
Mom is dead.
Just for a short time, while I’ve been slowly waking up, I had blissfully forgotten.
And now, remembering, my heart jolts hard. I wince and make a painful sound, as everything rushes back in a flood. . . . I’m sure that Aeson and my siblings recognize the dark, drowning expression on my face, and they can tell that I’ve remembered.
Aeson suddenly reaches down and takes me in his arms, raising me up, enveloping me with his strength from all sides. At the same time I wrap my own limp, powerless arms around him, press my face against his chest, and start to weep with deep rending sobs that rip my insides apart. . . .
Not sure how long I cry, but all I can remember is, there’s Aeson holding me, rocking me . . . then, Gracie . . . and Gordie is here, too, reaching for me on the crowded bed.
They are here, and they are my family.
At some point, I am all cried out, my lungs wrung inside out, and I’m so abysmally tired.
The room is now nearly dark, and someone turns on a soft light sconce.
“I can’t! I can’t!” I keep muttering. “I should go . . . down to see my friends. But I can’t!”
“Gwen, you don’t have to do anything,” Aeson says. “Nobody expects you to. You survived multiple ordeals in a very short period of time, and you must regain your strength. To do that you need to rest. I strongly recommend sleep until morning. But not before you’ve eaten.”
“Oh, Aeson . . .” I whisper, absentmindedly running my hand over his muscular bicep. “It’s early evening. I still think I should—”
And then I freeze as another thought hits me. “Oh no! Your armband! Where’s my dirty uniform? Is it gone? Did they take it away? Oh no, no! It still has your armband! I forgot to remove it from the inside pocket!”
I sit up again, my heart starting to pound violently, this time from distress and shock at my own dreadful negligence. How could I forget Aeson’s black armband, the greatest honor bestowed upon a hero of Atlantis? He had given me that precious black silk, a temporary love gift, on loan, to keep close to my heart in the Games, as a reminder of his love, so that I would come back to him safely and return the armband unharmed!
But Aeson interrupts me gently. “Don’t worry about it, Gwen. . . . It’s just a piece of black fabric, and I have several identical replacements in my closets.”
My lips part in a different kind of outrage. “What? You have others? But I thought—you told me—”
He chuckles. “Everything I told you about it is true. It’s a rare honor, and my one personal possession that I value above all others and find meaningful—though of course now I have another item that’s just as precious to me—the love gift you gave me, the tiny Pegasus figurine. But I never said the piece of fabric was unique. The meaning behind it is . . . and the right to wear it is. As I promised you, I didn’t wear a black armband while you had one in your possession in the Games.”
“You, jerk!” I say, starting to lighten up. “You made me think it was one of a kind—”
“I might’ve given you that impression—or better to say, I didn’t clear up your mistaken assumption—in order to give you a very strong incentive to stay alive.” And then he adds. “But now that it’s all over, and you’re back safely . . . because you’re so concerned about it, I’ll make sure that the laundry service finds it, cleans and delivers that fateful black silk back to you. You may keep it forever, if you like, as a reminder of all that happened. Or you may hand it back to me. Or you might even decide to toss it in the trash and never think about it again.”
“Are you kidding? I’m keeping it!” I exclaim. “I could never throw it away, for so many powerful reasons. It’s a gift from you, and it saved my life. I want to think about it and to remember. . . .”
He leans in and kisses my cheek, and then his lips graze the side of my mouth lightly. “As you wish.”
Gordie clears his throat awkwardly yet again at our kiss and looks away.
But Gracie says with a smile, “I kind of suspected he might have a whole drawer full of those black armbands. . . . I mean, it makes sense. You and I have as many red or yellow or whatever armbands as we need, can always get a replacement. Right?”
“Like neckties, yeah,” Gordie says.
I glance at my siblings. “You could’ve mentioned it to me!” But then I bite my lip and smile also. “Never mind, you wouldn’t have told me, I know. . . . To protect me.”
Gracie snorts. “You got that right.”
At that point there’s a soft knock on the door.
“Come in, she’s awake!” Gracie says in her normal voice.
In that moment, for the first time in hours, I feel stable enough to face whomever else might be here.
The door opens, revealing Devora Kassiopei, the Archaeona Imperatris of Atlantida, Aeson’s mother.
She stands at the entrance, silhouetted against the brighter light of the other room—which is Aeson’s adjacent bedroom—and the edges of her elegant form shimmer violet, as the translucent and sheer fabric layers of her dress, threaded with metallic filaments, catch the light, creating a nimbus around her.
In that moment, Aeson’s mother appears to me divine, a mysterious exotic goddess from these alien stars. . . .
And then, with one breath, she becomes deeply human, as she enters the room and heads directly for me.
For one split second I see the moist glitter in her beautiful kohl-rimmed eyes of a color that’s a fathomless cobalt-blue, the profound sympathy contained there, and catch the faint scent of her complex floral perfume . . . just before Devora sits down on the bed near Aeson and me and pulls me into her embrace—while Gracie and Gordie immediately stand up to make way for her.
There are no words spoken as I feel Devora’s softness and strength around me, my forehead allowed to rest against her elegant Nefertiti neck, and a glimpse of her lovely features up-close, framed in dark bronze hair. Her outfit with its many gossamer veils shimmers around me, and I hear the soft clanking of her delicate bracelets.
But all these fleeting detail impressions fade away. . . . Because what comes next is an overwhelming sense of warm proximity, as she presses me close to her heart and then kisses me soundly on my cheeks and forehead.
And then, a few moments later, she looks up, still holding me tight, and I see her glance at my brother and sister. They’d gotten up with such awe-fueled hurry from my bed earlier . . . and now they stand awkwardly nearby, staring. “Come!” She nods kindly, lifts one hand, and motions to them both.
With wonder I see Gracie and Gordie hesitate only for an instant, and then they both approach with some uncertainty. It occurs to me, when exactly did my brother and sister first meet the Imperatris? Had they been introduced to her before, maybe at some point during that busy month of my Games training? Or is this their formal first time? What’s wrong with me? I can’t remember!
But none of it matters. . . . Aeson rises from his seated position on the bed to make room and stands back. He watches with rapt attention as Devora reaches out to Gracie with one hand and pulls her close.
Gracie makes a startled little sound and exhales with a shudder of held-back nervous tension that’s finally allowed relief.
And then Devora lets go of me completely and does the same thing to Gordie—which takes him completely by surprise, and he nearly falls into the embrace.
The two of them end up on both sides of me, pressed into one great generous embrace, and Devora holds us all, her arms open wide, encircling us . . . and she speaks softly in her lilting and beautiful, slightly accented English, “You are mine now. All of you, my children.”
Ch
apter 5
The feeling of security, the harmonious serenity that washes over me in those surreal, wondrous moments is indescribable. It’s as if, after months of solitary wandering, I’ve come home to family at long last. . . .
And my siblings can feel it, too. I can tell by how Gracie has surrendered and gone limp in Devora’s arms, and even Gordie has relaxed his normally standoffish body posture. Now they both cling to this amazing woman, having found an anchor . . . and for this one thing alone I am more grateful to her than she can imagine.
“I would never presume to replace your mother, nor would you want me to, of course,” Devora remarks, brushing her delicately manicured, slim fingers through Gracie’s hair with unexpected confidence and squeezing Gordie’s shoulder fondly. “But I will be your second mother, in every way that counts, to the best of my abilities. This, I promise you, im saai.”
The Atlanteo word saai means “children.”
Again, my heart is full to overflowing with a grand emotion, and I hold my breath so as not to break down weeping yet again, but my eyes are brimming.
“Aeson—a napkin, please?” his mother says, momentarily examining my face. Aeson obliges her and offers a small box of tissue-like fabric squares from the nearby side table.
Devora takes one and lightly wipes my eyes, then, with an amused smile, tactfully dabs my forehead and cheeks. I watch her smooth and rub my skin with practiced ease, then unexpectedly dab her own mouth. She then smacks her lips and dabs them again. It’s such a simple, casual act that I stare.
“Not only tears, but the noohd—the cosmetic on my lips,” she says with a laugh. “I fear, I’ve marked you, Gwen—it will not do. . . . First, I clean it off. And now I may kiss im saai without leaving a mark.”
And then with absolute matter-of-factness, Devora pulls Gracie and Gordie closer and gives them ringing kisses on their cheeks and forehead. At which point I think my brother and sister blush so fiercely that all nervousness is forgotten.
Devora releases us at last, and everyone is both completely relaxed and visibly affected. She continues to smile at each of us, then glances at Aeson. “What a merciful conclusion to a terrible, long day. But—not another word about any of it, not today. I cannot stay for long, and your Father doesn’t know I’m here—though he may suspect—but for once I’m not too concerned. It is over, and Gwen—the wonderful, shining, fierce, unbeatable Champion Gwen—is safe with you, at last. Not much can be done to ruin tonight, at least. Tomorrow is a different matter. . . .”
Devora pauses and takes a deep breath, glancing from Aeson to me. “Oh, my dears, the Wedding cannot come soon enough. That’s when your union, your life together, will be bound by law, with all the permanent protections and inviolate status for Gwen and all of her blood relatives.”
Aeson nods with a serious expression. “I’m very aware of the days.”
“Thirty-five days!” I say, recalling his words earlier.
“We will talk about the Wedding details, now that the burden has been lifted,” Devora says, getting up. “But not tonight—tonight, Gwen, you must rest. I will return as soon as I may, likely tomorrow.” She squeezes my hand and smiles at Gracie and Gordie. “And now, im saai, continue enjoying your own young company. Nefero niktos!”
“Oh—Manala!” I exclaim, as it occurs to me to ask about Aeson’s sister, before Devora leaves. “How is Manala? Is she—”
“Manala is downstairs with the others. She is fine and much relieved that you’re okay,” Aeson says, with a glance at his mother who merely nods comfortably.
“I want to see her!” I say, feeling a surge of confidence. “I think—I think I’d like to come downstairs now.”
“What? Are you sure, Gee Two?” Gordie asks, somehow managing to speak up—with a quick sheepish glance at Devora. “Want me to bring her up here instead?”
But I shake my head and start getting up carefully, feeling only a mild surge of vertigo as I stand. “Yeah, I’m sure. Time for me to get a grip. I’m okay. I want to see everyone.”
With a soft, curious smile, Devora moves to the exit and quietly closes the door behind her, gifting us all with her loving energy—it’s as if her work here is done.
A few minutes later, I change into a casual shirt and jeans-like bottoms, without Gracie or anyone’s assistance, and follow Aeson and my siblings downstairs into the familiar living room, the one we prefer to use for our gatherings. It has a glorious panoramic view of the city through a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows on several sides. Outside the windows is a dark evening tapestry of sparkling city lights below and stars above.
The room is full of people, and the smart TV panel hovers in the middle, blaring with noise and varied programming.
I take a deep breath, smiling almost shyly as I see so many of my favorite people all at once. Laronda Aimes and Hasmik Tigranian stand with their arms resting against the back of the long sofa, leaning forward to stare at the screen, over the heads of the seated Oalla Keigeri, Erita Qwas, and Blayne Dubois.
A few steps away is a long side table with the remains of the dea meal, and Keruvat Ruo is pouring himself a glass of fizzy stuff, while the Imperial Princess Manala Kassiopei picks at something colorful on a big plate and offers it to Chiyoko Sato, who holds a small dessert plate with sweet fruit dumplings.
Further back, near the wall, Dawn Williams is talking quietly with one of the serving staff, who is preparing something hot in a deep metallic pan from which vapor rises.
Finally, with his back to the window nightscape outside, Xelio Vekahat sits in a chair, leaning forward in concentration, and watches a second, smaller, hovering screen. He is flanked on both sides by Aeson’s two Imperial aides, Anu Vei and Gennio Rukkat, who peer over his shoulder, point, and argue with agitation.
In addition, there are several estate servants going about their meal-serving tasks inconspicuously in the background.
As soon as everyone sees me, they grow silent and stare at me, with the only sound coming from the media feeds. And then a loud and energetic hubbub erupts.
“Gwen!” Laronda exclaims. She rushes toward me and then stops, pausing tactfully before trying to hug me, and clasps her hands together with anxiety. “Are you okay?” Laronda is dressed casually in an earth-style top and slacks, and her short, relaxed, bobbed hair has a single metallic gold streak in addition to the usual highlights, which wasn’t there before—for some reason I’m fascinated by it.
“I’m fine. . . .” I smile at her then say softly, “I love your hair.”
“Awww, girl!” Next thing I know, Laronda has me in a bear hug and is squeezing the life out of me with her surprisingly strong, well-toned Cadet arms. “You crazy, crazy awesome Shoelace Girl!” Laronda cries in my ear, then releases me to stare seriously into my eyes. “You survived. You did it! You more than did it! I’m so proud of you! And—and I am so sorry about your Mom. . . .”
Before I can answer, Hasmik steps forward and pulls me into a warm hug that radiates generous strength despite her petite frame. “Gwen-janik! So terrible, but it’s over! What a relief! And your dear Mom, so very sorry—”
I look into her kind brown eyes and sweet, comfortable face framed by shoulder-length dark hair, and a jolt of emotion rushes through me. . . . It occurs to me, seeing Hasmik’s familiar, welcoming smile beaming at me, that I didn’t believe I would see her again, or any of my other friends. Only now is it sinking in. . . .
“Gwen, come here,” Dawn, the taller girl next to her, says. Dawn has light brown skin, long hair, and very dark eyes that are usually serious and thoughtful, and in this moment particularly intense. She gathers me to her with a comfortable hug. “It sucked, what you had to go through. And losing your Mom on top of all that. . . . Damn.”
I run my hand against her back and nod, maintaining a smile that’s now fixed on my lips more for everyone else’s sake than my own. “It’s okay, thanks. . . . I know I’m not alone in this. Other people have lost their parents. It happens all the ti
me. . . . It’s a part of living. I know you don’t have your dad, Dawn. And Laronda—”
Laronda nods. “My Mom passed away when I was twelve. That’s why Jamil and I ended up living with Auntie Janice.”
“Yes, exactly,” I say in a measured voice. “So I need to put things in perspective.”
Laronda snorts and squeezes my arm. “Not today you don’t. You just went through hell and learned about your Mom—today. You have every right to grieve.”
“Thanks. . . .”
I hear the sound of a tone sequence being sung, and seconds later Blayne approaches on his hoverboard. He hovers skillfully upright while maintaining an effortless Limited Mobility Form with his thighs and legs wrapped around the board, so it’s easy to forget that he used to be confined to a wheelchair back on Earth.
“Congratulations and condolences in one, Lark,” he tells me with a sad little smile, patting me on the shoulder awkwardly. “You did us proud, out there—all of us Earthies. Too bad you had to learn about your mother this way. That’s harsh. Really sorry. . . .”
I nod silently and then reach out and take Blayne into a hug of my own. The boy doesn’t resist, merely flips the longish hair out of his blue eyes, and then after a moment reaches around me with both hands and lightly pats my back. His upright hoverboard jabs my midriff slightly as it presses uncomfortably between us. Like my brother Gordie, Blayne’s not a hugger, but these are special circumstances.
“Thanks, Dubois, good to be here, though strange somehow,” I say, as we separate.
Next up is Chiyoko, large and tall, always slightly hunching in posture, with her familiar, permanently nervous expression—which is now even more anxious, a warring mixture of sympathy and joy. The poor girl stands nearby looking at me with visible stress. I’m used to the fact that Chiyoko, who’s both a friend and my Pilot Partner, worries too much and doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. In fact, right now she appears to be in agony. . . .
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