Survive

by Vera Nazarian

  Keigeri continues the introduction of our “famous, universe-spanning romance,” my “daring entry” into the Games and a “glorious win,” while Aeson and I look on politely, giving occasional nods and smiles. And then he launches into the questions, addressing us directly.

  “Now that the excitement and danger of the Games are over, what are your most immediate plans for the future? What fires your enthusiasm?”

  Aeson and I glance at each other, pretending to be surprised by the question we’ve just skimmed minutes ago. “My personal answer is simple,” Aeson says with a faint, almost sneaky smile directed at me. “What fires my enthusiasm is my lovely, brave, generous Bride. I’ll just let her answer.”

  “Aeson. . . .” I smile, widening my eyes at him. Then I take a deep breath and turn to the interviewer. “Aeson is, of course, my dearest heart and my source of enthusiasm. He fills me with joy and inspires me wholeheartedly in every way possible. And—and—”

  “And your plans going forward?” Desher Keigeri tries to direct the question tactfully, to expand our sugary-sweet replies.

  “Well,” I say. “There’s the Wedding, of course. And all the preparations—so many things to do, such wonderful Atlantean traditions for me to discover, and for both of us to share.”

  “Indeed.” Desher Keigeri nods with approval. “How are the preparations going, if we may ask? Now that you’ve had a few days to recover from the grand ordeal of the Games, and the sweet triumph of victory, it must be such a relief to take some time to savor everything.”

  “Oh, yes,” I say, trying to think of suitable platitudes. “I’m very relieved and grateful to have had the opportunity to earn my citizenship the hard way. It’s been an honor striving and working together with the members of Team Lark, and to share the victory with nine other such worthy Champions. But I’m very glad it’s behind me now—behind both of us, Aeson and me. Now we can focus on our regular lives and our families.”

  Can I be even more dull and insipid in my answers? Why, yes, yes, I can be. . . .

  “As far as the Wedding preparations, everything is going well,” I continue, mentally going over the Bridal List activities and just plucking terms. “Let’s see—I am in the process of choosing the Flower and the Song, and will be hosting my first Bridal event in a few days from now.”

  “Lovely,” Desher says mildly. “We eagerly look forward to knowing your selections.”

  So do I, Oalla’s Dad, I think. So do I. . . .

  Desher Keigeri now turns to Aeson. “My Imperial Lord, what are your plans for the Golden Bay? As many of our viewers know, the Archaeon Imperator, Our Imperial Sovereign, and Your Illustrious Father, had granted you this somewhat controversial property as the Imperial Wedding Gift.”

  “Yes,” Aeson says, his tone reflecting a polished, confident manner. “The Golden Bay of Poseidon has profound and far-reaching potential. In addition to the natural beauty of the coastline, the land is rich with resources, and the population is rich in spirit. Yes, there are inherent known difficulties, but they are surmountable. Much work remains to be done there to improve the living standards, to build up the infrastructure. It will be my priority to begin the many improvement projects as soon as possible, within the scope of my other duties.”

  “You can start with helping the residents of Themisera—Sky Tangle City,” I blurt.

  Oh, crap . . . did I say too much?

  But Aeson turns to me with a serious light in his eyes. “Yes. Themisera is only one of such places that needs extensive help and will receive it. There are other adjacent regions of poverty and longstanding disrepair, and they will receive my attention also.”

  I nod, feeling awkward and yet relieved that there’s no judgment of my outburst—even as the focus of his gaze continues to rest on me reassuringly, affirming my sentiment.

  “Very assuring to know that the Golden Bay has such an exciting future before it,” Desher says after a smallest pause, continuing the interview. “And now, if I may ask both of you—everyone wants to know, where will you spend your amrevet days?”

  The interviewer looks from Aeson to me with a pleasant smile. “As you were no doubt informed, Imperial Lady Gwen—it is tradition at the end of the first eight months after the Wedding for the newlyweds to flee and hide together in a delightful secret place of their own choosing, for continued intimacy, at the same time letting their families and friends know only the general whereabouts. We would never presume to know your intended destination, only the general whereabouts. Will you generously enlighten us?”

  “Oh . . . yes,” I say, recalling that amrevet days are the Atlantean equivalent of a honeymoon, except taken half a year later.

  But no one had told me anything about fleeing, or secret locations.

  At a loss, I turn to my Bridegroom, pivoting not-so-skillfully. “Aeson?”

  “We are still making arrangements in that regard,” Aeson replies smoothly, after a swift glance at me, which suggests to me that he might in fact have no frigging clue.

  Poor Aeson, I think. All these Wedding preparation details are driving him nuts.

  But then my Bridegroom astonishes me. “I’ve actually arranged a surprise for my Bride,” he says. “The final details are being worked out, so if I say anything now, it might spoil the surprise for her—which is something none of your viewers would want.”

  Nicely played!

  I give Aeson an amused glance.

  But he is staring back at me with a steady, confident smile. Which makes me think, maybe he actually has something planned after all!

  Lesson for me—never, ever underestimate im amrevu.

  The Hel-Ra interview goes on for a short while after that, and we answer a few more easy, harmless, entirely forgettable questions. And then we’re done. The live feed cuts off, and we thank Desher Keigeri for his efforts and return to our Quarters upstairs.

  “Aeson, about those amrevet days,” I whisper to him at some point when we’re briefly alone. “Did you really have something awesome planned for us, or was that just a smooth way for you to avoid really answering?”

  Aeson chuckles and taps the end of my nose playfully with one finger.

  “What?” I part my lips in frustration, then the whole thing turns into a helpless smile. “Tell me!”

  But my cruel Bridegroom shakes his head, leans in close to my ear, and says mysteriously, “You will find out.”

  I make a little sound of annoyed affection and give up—for the moment.

  A few hours and an early dea meal later, it’s time for our second interview, this one with our friend Tiago, for Grail Games Daily, at first hour of Khe.

  While we were taking a break, the Palace staff and network crews rearranged the same chamber on the lower floor, this time setting up the interview platform “nook” to resemble a Grail Games Daily studio set. Different crews came in, brought their set pieces, similar camera equipment and stage lights.

  And now, Aeson and I come back down to a completely transformed interview space, and the familiar sight of the big, black, Laughing Buddha that is Tiago Guu.

  “Tiago!” I exclaim with a smile.

  “My dearest Imperial Lady Gwen—or should I say, Vocalist Champion of the Games!” Tiago responds in a rich baritone, hurrying toward us with great agility despite his considerable size.

  Indeed, with his immense width, rotund belly, many chins, and white-toothed grin—and the fact that his wiry gilded hair is cut so short it’s almost nonexistent—Tiago could be the living personification of the bald Laughing Buddha figure from Earth.

  As the host of Grail Games Daily, Tiago is a flamboyant dresser. Today he wears an oversized jacket and roomy pants in a strange metallic black fabric that somehow glitters with purple and persimmon sparkles—creating rainbow waves, like benzene rings—under the bright studio lights. And his cosmetics echo the dramatic outfit perfectly: dark, purple-tinted eyebrows with striking orange highlights, kohl-rimmed brown eyes, and henna lip gloss—all of
it playing so well with his deep brown skin.

  Tiago continues, after giving both Aeson and me a profound courtly bow. “What a delight it is to see you like this, happy and relieved—yes, I can see it in your lovely eyes, My Imperial Lady, a new lightness—now that the abysmal difficulty is behind you and you have triumphed!”

  “I still can’t believe it,” I say. “I survived, Tiago. Thank you again for all you’ve done to help me train for it.”

  Tiago’s smile disappears for a moment and he grows thoughtful. I notice, he doesn’t attempt to flatter by correcting me that I’ve won. “As a survivor of the Games myself, I commiserate in every sense with your plight, My Imperial Lady. It was difficult to watch the hardest moments when your life was on the line. But I believed in you because I knew you had profound motives to persist.”

  Tiago is showing his wisdom yet again. How well he understands me. Truly, his good advice went a long way in getting me in the right head-space during Games training. Tiago’s comments always kept me grounded in the grim reality, forced me to live out the worst-case scenarios in my mind with strange calm and cultivate an attitude of simply persisting. Getting a grip on fear was a profound technique he taught me.

  For that alone, I owe Tiago a whole lot.

  But now Tiago breaks the serious moment by clapping his big meaty hands together, making all his bracelets jangle, while the bright studio lights catch the jewels in his many rings. “But enough looking back! Let’s proceed with the interview, which, I promise you, will be full of happier things!”

  We ascend the platform and take our seats on a different small sofa, this one low-backed, and upholstered in trendy silver fabric, to match the more youthful and upbeat nature of this particular show. The Kassiopei sunburst logo tapestry behind us has been replaced with several hovering light globes for a more contemporary look.

  Aeson and I look over a new set of cue cards, while crew technicians make last-minute adjustments to the studio, and a new hive of nano-cams fills the air. Then, Tiago takes the chair across from us and begins the interview segment.

  “Let me begin by saying, the Grail Games Daily audience loves you, our favorite Shoelace Girl and future Imperatris, the Imperial Lady Gwen Lark!” Tiago says with a grin, as the musical theme fades. “What an amazing Games season we’ve had, and your participation was truly the highlight!”

  I nod and smile.

  Tiago now turns to Aeson. “And what an experience it must have been for you, my Imperial Lord Aeson, to watch your amazing Bride in action!”

  Aeson makes a short laugh and raises one brow. “Unforgettable,” he says, and there’s a world of irony in that one word.

  He almost died . . . watching me. . . .

  At once, pain stabs through my heart on Aeson’s behalf.

  “The Four Stages each had unique challenges,” Tiago says. “But one of the most amazing things that developed were the alliances and powerful bonds between members of Team Lark. I admit, in all my years of watching, of analyzing Games strategy, I have never seen such close-knit bonds evolve between Contenders. How did you manage it?”

  “They were—are—a remarkable group of people to work with.” I turn my head sideways, thinking about Team Lark, with a faint smile hovering at my lips. “I think I got very, very lucky. If I hadn’t tripped Zaap in the first few moments of Stage One, things might have turned out very differently.”

  “Ah, yes, Animal Handler Zaap Guvai. . . .” Tiago nods fondly and with sadness. “He was a truly remarkable Contender. If not for his unfortunate death in the first leg of the Triathlon Race, I have no doubt he would have won his Category.”

  “Yes.” I grow quiet. “He was well ahead, until he got . . . shot in the back.”

  “Tragic! So terrible, so—but then, such is the bittersweet aspect of the Games.” Tiago pauses for a long beat, nodding slowly. “We never forget them, of course—those who lose their lives. They live on inside us.”

  “Always. I’ll never forget Zaap,” I say. “If only—”

  I stop before I end up mentioning Thalassa whose name I would sincerely like to forget. Also, I don’t want to speak in public just yet about certain plans of mine in regard to honoring Zaap posthumously.

  That will come later.

  “So—Shoelace Girl!” Tiago pivots the conversation in a happier direction. “We already know you’re brilliant and resourceful. Now we want the full story! How did your unusual appellation come about?”

  “During Qualification, on Earth. I had to improvise during weapons training.” I smile, shaking my head, and briefly tell the story of how I was the last person in my class left without a cord weapon, so I pulled out my own shoelaces and tied them together into a makeshift “cord,” in order to avoid a demerit.

  “Ah, so that’s how it started! Very clever! Your instructor must have been very impressed with you.”

  “Just barely,” I say, wincing and smiling. Now is probably not the best time to name Xelio Vekahat as the instructor involved in that notorious incident.

  Tiago chuckles. “Not sure if you’re aware, My Imperial Lady, but ‘Shoelace Girl’ themed merchandizing has become pervasive—ever since the public discovered this unusual aspect of you.”

  “Okay. . . .” I part my lips, not sure how to answer or respond, or if I even should.

  “Yes,” Tiago continues. “They now sell shoelaces imprinted with your name in the markets all around Poseidon. Also, ribbons, armbands, shirts, hats. . . . There are custom hoverboards with a heroic image of you and your shoelaces. Also, drinking grails with you riding your pegasus in Gebi cat form during Stage Four—”

  “And people buy them?” I ask.

  “Oh, yes!” Tiago lifts a finger in pause. He reaches into a hidden pocket of his iridescent jacket to pull out a pair of shiny-white shoelaces with the inscription “Shoelace Girl,” both in English and Atlanteo, printed in black, purple, and gold, running down the length of each. “I certainly bought these! And if I may have you sign them for me afterwards, it would be a delight. A lovely memento of this year’s stunning Games.”

  “Of course,” I reply with a short laugh.

  “Then I am overjoyed!” Tiago claps his big hands together, and proceeds to ask the next question. “Now then, here’s a question directly from my audience—the one question that has received the highest votes throughout this past week. And as promised, I am now going to ask you this question, since Atlantida demands an answer.”

  “Sure,” I say, smiling to cover my little jolt of nerves.

  “My dearest Imperial Lady, the last time you honored me by being on my live arena show at the Nebetareon—just before the Games, you might recall—we were dying to know what love gifts were exchanged between the Imperial Crown Prince Aeson Kassiopei and his Bride—”

  Oh, crap . . . this wasn’t in the cue cards!

  “—and so, it must be asked again!” Tiago exclaims enthusiastically.

  I bite my lip and glance at Aeson helplessly, thinking of his black armband, the highest honor of a hero, which he removed from his own arm and gave to me as I went into the Games—right after I gave him my little Pegasus figurine from Earth.

  So yeah, we exchanged love gifts. And his black armband—it’s the ultimate love gift of all. What can be greater and more meaningful than that? Aeson doesn’t have to give me anything else, ever.

  Unfortunately, that black armband is non-transferable. By Atlantean law, it’s the one thing that may not be given away. It was basically lent to me temporarily, a powerful symbol of the bond between us. Its purpose—to keep me focused and grounded, to keep me motivated, and to keep me alive. Since it had to be returned safely to the original owner, I was responsible for returning it. As a side effect of that, I, myself, had to stay safe, in order to survive the Games.

  And now, to accommodate the Wedding tradition, Aeson will have to come up with something else more appropriate, and soon. . . .

  For once, my Bridegroom seems to pause before answ
ering. He takes a deep breath and then speaks, all the while looking at me. “Tiago, there’s no easy way to say this, but our love gifts are not going to be divulged until the Gifts Assembly event, a few days before our Wedding. The curious public must remain patient and wait.”

  At once I nod, feeling relief. “Yes, that’s right. Thank you, Aeson.”

  “Argh!” Tiago slaps his thigh and makes an exaggerated sound of frustration. He then turns his face aside, as though looking at an invisible camera (which he likely is, with so many nano-cams currently swirling all around us) and says: “You’ve heard it here, Atlantida! The Imperial Crown Prince commands us to be patient! Nothing else to do but wait. How many days until the Wedding? Twenty-nine days! Ah, such sweet torture!”

  Aeson smiles and nods to me.

  I widen my eyes at him, and my own lips curve upward.

  Once again, this harmless but weirdly stressful topic is averted.

  Tiago’s interview concludes soon after, and he tells us it will be played in tomorrow’s feed as a recorded segment during his regular show.

  Aeson and I thank Tiago, and he thanks us in turn for the “delightful time spent.”

  “Please do my show again soon,” he says with an easygoing chuckle. “And by the way, thank you for scheduling me ahead of Hippeis and his supremely dull enterprise. He is definitely grinding his teeth with envy right now, imagining the exclusive content he is missing out on!”

  Tiago is of course referring to our next interview host, Buhaat Hippeis, his longstanding rival, and his competing show Winning the Grail, which we’re going to be doing in just a few hours.

  After Tiago leaves, we once again head upstairs to rest in our own Quarters. Aeson stops to check the SPC incoming reports on the big displays at his desk. Then we lounge around in his workroom, sipping cool glasses of qvaali while Xelio and Erita work with the raw data, and periodically interrupt us to discuss the findings with Aeson.