“No need to do anything, my dear Imperial Lady Gwen. Simply be yourself,” says the Consul. “After all, you are an actual Games Champion. If anything, they will respect that about you—even fear you. This is your opportunity to show yourself to them in your preferred light.”
I release a held breath. “I understand. And fine, invite them all, if we have to. But to compensate for all that obnoxiousness I am inviting all my friends. Oh, and my sister’s having a birthday, so this is really her day as much as it is mine.”
Consul Denu smiles at me. “A fair compromise indeed. Certainly, you might want to think some more on this List, take your time, and add your preferred friends to it. Don’t forget, you will have prominent allies there to help you, in the form of the Venerable Therutat Nuudri, First Priestess of Amrevet-Ra, and the Sovereign Lady herself, the incomparable Imperatris Devora Kassiopei. Tradition dictates that both of them shall grace the event with their attendance. Now, whenever you’re ready, simply send the Guest List to me later tonight, preferably by niktos meal but no later than tenth hour, and I will make sure the formal invitations go out in timely fashion.”
“Okay.”
“Very well.” With one bejeweled finger he swipes at the screen of the tablet in my hand, and motions for me to set it aside for the time being. “And now, on to the next item on our agenda. A vital selection lies before you, my dear—what shall you wear?”
We take another hour to discuss outfit choices, and I look at various fashion selections that are brought in by Consul Denu’s staff. They explain to me that the dress code at this particular Bridal event will be semi-formal, and the flowing, simpler designs reflect this.
At some point, Manala arrives with her enormous black cat Khemji—who is immediately released from his ridiculous harness and given free rein of the Imperial Crown Prince’s Quarters—to the alarmed looks of everyone present, especially the attending staff. Then Hasmik and Chiyoko show up, coming straight from work—Hasmik from her defense textiles manufacturing job in the warehouse district of Nuabuut, south of Poseidon city center, and Chiyoko from her Fleet assignment at the Poseidon Fleet HQ technical division downtown. We start to examine and admire all the glittering expensive fabrics in rich colors, while Khemji attempts to shred some ribbons hanging off a chair and then bats around a tiny little pearl button all over the floor of the chamber, occasionally slamming into walls.
Hasmik, whose textiles knowledge is now extensive, comments about various textures and makes me look closer at the elegant threads, run my fingers over the materials. “Look, how fine this one is, Gwen-janik. It shimmers when you fold it. Sixty percent natural plant fiber reinforced with metal alloy. Very high thread count on this one—”
“Oh, oh! Gwen, you should wear this one!” Manala interrupts, as the assistants present the next outfit, a long-sleeved, close-fitting cream dress of only a single layer, embroidered in fine metallic lavender filaments. It has a scoop neckline, fitted waist, and its narrow sheath skirt is slightly higher than ankle-length, so I would need to wear some stunning shoes to go along with it.
“That’s beautiful, I suppose,” I whisper, peering closer to stroke the silken fabric.
Chiyoko agrees with me, and Hasmik gives her professional seal of approval.
Consul Denu nods appreciatively.
“Then it’s all set,” I say with relief.
“Now the shoes,” Chiyoko whispers with awe.
And the parade of shoe fashions begins.
When all is settled and done, I have chosen a lovely outfit, a nice pair of low-heeled pumps, and matching jewelry and accessories. Consul Denu and his young assistant Kem will arrive on the day of the event to do my Face Paints and hair.
“What about Gracie” I ask. “Should she have a special birthday outfit too?”
“It would be a delight to assist your sister with her own outfit selection,” Consul Denu says. “Where is the young lady?”
“Apparently running late,” I say, then check my wrist comm for messages. “Gracie said she was coming, so—”
“There she is!” Manala exclaims, rising from her spot on the long sofa, now covered with endless outfits in plastic sleeves, to make room for Gracie.
My sister arrives in a hurry, breathing fast, and dressed in her everyday Fleet grey uniform. “Sorry . . .” she pants, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Ran all the way from the airfield . . . before that, was parking my shuttle . . . had a crazy flight day up in orbit, Gee Two. . . . Get this—our team was assigned to do a flight sequence through the you-know-what object. . . .”
Gracie got to fly through the Ghost Moon! My chest fills with pride at the thought of my baby sister performing complex, possibly solo flight maneuvers in space.
“Aha. . . . No problem. You made it just in time.” I pat Gracie on the back with a smile.
She takes one look at the fashion spread and squeals. Hasmik and Chiyoko giggle at Gracie’s reaction, Manala claps her hands together with excitement, and then we all get to work, choosing her birthday dress.
By evening, all my event planning related to the Court Ladies Bridal thingamajig is done. Gracie has a lovely dress to wear for her birthday. Furthermore, suitable attractive outfits have been selected for all my invited female friends who are able to attend the event.
I send the final Guest List with my additions to Consul Denu who sets everything in motion, and then Aeson, our friends, family, and I enjoy a casual evening and a lighthearted niktos meal. During our meal, Khemji runs around, loose and free, under our feet, and manages to be as well-behaved (and blessedly gas-free) as Manala can make him. As a highlight of the night, Gordie shows up with a box of ecurami—impossibly delicious dessert puffs filled with creamy goodness that he discovered at his workplace—which is a local specialty that’s supposedly flash-baked in special ultra-hot ovens and sold only in the food court of the Heri Agriculture HQ industrial complex. And then, just before bedtime, the Imperatris herself drops by to check up on us briefly, bringing the night to a peaceful conclusion.
The next day and the following, Green Ghost Moon 8 and 9, pretty much nothing happens but routine, for which I’m supremely grateful. It’s good to do nothing for a change, except look at the Bridal event RSVPs that start to come in almost immediately and continue throughout the day and the next.
On both those days, Aeson and I take advantage of the continuing lull and respite in our schedule to do some light exercise workouts in the mornings—my first workouts since the training and the Games. I am surprised to find that I’ve recovered sufficiently and I’m still in decent enough shape, despite the grueling ordeal of the Games, that my slightly sore body doesn’t hurt and the exercise feels good. Afterwards, a refreshing swim in the enclosed indoor pool in the Imperial Crown Prince’s Quarters to conclude our workout brings another secret pleasure. . . . That’s when I get to watch Aeson’s sleek, bronzed body fly next to me through the sparkling water as we race each other from one end of the pool to the other. . . .
At some point Aeson has another meeting with Darumet Azai, the First Priest of Amrevet-Ra, in regard to Bridegroom matters. Meanwhile I take a leisurely walk with Manala in the Palace gardens below, discussing our brothers, Atlantean insects, flowers, and Khemji’s regurgitated furballs.
I try to maintain this relaxed state, even though the official RSVPs from the numerous invited Ladies of the Court continue to pour in, up to the last minute, and it seems that everyone is coming.
And then Green Ghost Moon 10 arrives, and things get intense once again.
Chapter 33
The Ladies of the Court Bridal extravaganza is scheduled for first hour of Khe. Aeson will be demonstrably absent and out of sight for most of the day, together with any other males of our acquaintance, since this is supposed to be a women-only affair.
I wake up early, ridiculously nervous, and see my Bridegroom only briefly for eos bread. Aeson gives me a soulful, lingering kiss—and a playful squeeze on my behind, wh
en no one else is looking—then remains in the workroom with Anu and Gennio. He watches me with an amused look as I wave goodbye dramatically and shut the door of the workroom, returning to my own side of the Quarters.
Then I spend the morning hours doing horrendous spa and beauty treatments with the assistance of my maid Aranit and other servants, followed by a visit from Consul Denu and Kem, his young assistant.
Together they transform me into a glamorous someone I am not—or possibly someone I don’t quite recognize. The expensive, form-fitting dress of amazing, silky fabric hugs my every curve. . . . My hair is styled in an intricate updo involving garlands of pale crystals in various shades of blue and lavender, to echo both the metallic threads on my dress and the theme decor of the Lapis Lazuli Grand Chamber that has been readied for the Bridal event over the past couple of days (yes, I’ve visited it the night before and know that it is spectacular beyond my wildest expectations).
Meanwhile, Gracie, the Birthday Girl herself—who’s arrived earlier, and has been watching me undergo the torture for the sake of beauty—gets her own makeover and puts on her chosen dress in light blue with golden trim. Both of us then get to choose fabulous, very expensive, very antique looking jewelry from a mini-chest sent over by the Imperatris.
“Happy Birthday, Gee Four!” I say, grinning at my now fourteen-year-old baby sister who is not such a baby anymore, but looks like an elegant and lovely young woman, with a somewhat severe up-swept hairstyle and subtle classy makeup. “I’d kiss you but we’ve both just had the noohd painted on our lips, so it’s best to not disturb the masterpiece.”
“Oh, yeah,” Gracie says with a shy smile. “We look good, don’t we?”
“Amazing.”
I place my hands on Gracie’s shoulders and just stand there, holding her at arm’s length.
“Mom . . .” I whisper. “She would be so proud of you.”
Gracie winces slightly at the mention of our Mom, but does not break down—which is another confirmation of the fact that she is no longer the little girl I once knew. “Both of us,” she amends. “Proud of both of us.”
I nod and try not to bite my freshly noohd-covered lips.
“You are both delightfully ready to attend this proper Court function, my dears,” Consul Denu says, examining us with a look of satisfaction from the distance of his directorial chair, while Kem puts away his brushes and stacks the Face Paints back in the boxes, and other servants and assistants straighten the room.
“Thank you so much, Consul Denu,” Gracie says, turning to him warmly.
I echo her words with a heart full of gratitude.
Consul Denu stands up and inclines his head to both of us in an impeccable courtly bow, managing a unique combination of affection and dignity.
“Alas, your humble servant must depart. I must leave you now to your enviable female adventure.”
And on that note, Consul Denu and the attendants exit the room, leaving us to ourselves.
Minutes later, Gracie and I leave the Imperial Prince’s Quarters, bypassing Aeson’s living area and going roundabout through chambers and corridors along the perimeter, in order to emerge in the antechamber and get outside without encountering the Prince or any other males. My four personal guards and Tuar wait in the exterior corridor (alongside Aeson’s standard six guards), ready to escort us to this yet another very public event, and we all pretend not to see each other in a silly, superstitious kind of way.
We take the elevators to the ground floor, then walk through the network of palace corridors to the Lapis Lazuli Grand Chamber, hearing the noise of the many women’s voices from a distance, the high-pitched giggles, the laughter, the chatter. . . .
God help us, I think, darting a tense look at Gracie, as we approach the gathering crowd of estrogen and expensive perfume. Our security guards fall back, leaving just the two of us. We immediately slip into a designated side corridor that leads into the Chamber from a separate door.
“We’re supposed to make an entrance,” I whisper to Gracie. “Don’t let them see us yet! We have to use this door, but first we wait a little, since we’re early. It’s not quite first hour. Let them keep coming. . . .”
“Okay,” Gracie replies in my ear, looking just a tiny bit nervous.
And so, we stand together in a small nook near a hidden doorway, next to a solemn Palace servant who gives us a bow then returns to his task of attending or guarding this particular little entrance.
From our secluded spot, we can eavesdrop on the arrivals and, judging by the waves of voices and the swells of noise at the main doors, we can tell whenever some particularly prominent lady makes her appearance.
In addition to all the unfamiliar nobility, our friends are supposed to be there too, arriving separately, and I strain to catch familiar voices. Is that Laronda I hear, with Hasmik and Dawn? Possibly. They promised to be here, and they all had gorgeous outfits delivered to them. Yes, even Brie, who said she was definitely coming. And Oalla and Erita both reassured me that they wouldn’t miss it for the world. . . .
At first hour of Khe, precisely on time, the Venerable Therutat arrives, cutting a swath of silence around her as the chattering ladies are brought in line before her undeniable authority. Only after she’s passed them and entered the grand chamber does the chatter resume near the entrance. Even so, we can still hear nervous giggles and awed references to “The Venerable One.”
Gracie’s eyes widen. Even my sister has been informed about the holy terror that is the First Priestess of Amrevet-Ra. . . .
A few minutes later, we hear another respectful drop in sound, and this time the Imperial Palace servants formally announce the arrival of the Archaeona Imperatris.
That’s our cue.
“Okay, Gracie,” I whisper as my heartbeat speeds up. “Count to thirty, slowly, and then we’re going in.”
I enter the Lapis Lazuli Grand Chamber through the tiny side door, with Gracie a few steps behind me, emerging in the rear of the great hall. Our entryway is in fact a part of the centerpiece of the back wall, the doorway skillfully framed by a golden Kassiopei sunburst relief, so that it seems we emerge from the sun disk itself.
As soon as I pass the doorway, tripping an invisible sensor, a series of musical tones rises, cascading like a delicate glissando across harp strings. At once the chamber falls into silence.
“The Imperial Bride and Consort, Gwenevere Lark!” a servant announces loudly.
And then, “Sister of the Imperial Bride, Grace Lark!”
Gracie moves in behind me, sheepishly. I don’t think she expected this kind of announcement to precede her, but that’s part of the birthday surprise—I made sure in advance that Gracie would be acknowledged alongside me.
I step forward, smiling, and pause for effect, as I’ve been instructed. Immediately and everywhere, the ladies start to dip and curtsey, like waves rolling through the chamber.
And what a chamber it is!
The walls are painted a rich dark lapis lazuli blue, with golden filaments and trim running throughout. A lofty ceiling, and a veined marble floor polished smooth like a mirror. Above and below, both gleam in eggshell white. Slim, long buffet tables circle the perimeter, interspersed with sofas and chairs scattered throughout the space to create casual groupings.
In the very center of the room is a small pond with a fountain, and floral arrangements on sculpted pedestals. The ceiling is covered with airy clouds and garlands of crystal raindrops, descending past ornate light fixtures. The fountain water cascades in bursts of fractured light past additional garlands of similar crystalline decor as that overhead.
My gaze is drawn to that central fountain and its elegant seating area because I know to expect Devora Kassiopei there. As we arranged beforehand, the Imperatris occupies one of several throne-like seats, and the Venerable One is with her, together with a few other prominent older ladies, including Dame Tammuz Akten who is a member of the Imperial Executive Council and the only other important perso
n I recognize.
As was explained to me in advance, this spot of honor is designated especially for the most elderly females of the Court—and indeed, youthful, middle-aged Devora is by far the youngest of them all. These noble elders may sit at leisure all throughout the event, having earned their permanent place next to the Imperatris. Meanwhile everyone else is obligated to circulate. The younger dames and ladies are permitted to occupy any other available seating around the room but must rise to curtsey or simply stand, if the ceremony calls for it.
As a result, everywhere else around the chamber the invited ladies mingle in ever-changing groupings, flowing with the crowds. I see elegant attire suitable for a semi-formal afternoon, and in some cases slight excess, where certain young ladies overdressed just a tiny bit, to rival my own outfit, and more. . . .
Not that I care personally, but the thought does cross my mind that, as the Hostess, I’m supposed to be the best-dressed one here—with the possible exception of the Imperatris—and any attempt to “outdo” me in that department is a subtle insult.
But all those impressions happen in the blink of an eye, because as the Imperial Bride and Hostess I have a traditional role to play.
I head directly toward the Imperatris, past deeply curtseying ladies, trying not to look at any of them too closely yet, with Gracie trailing after me.
“My Sovereign Lady Devora,” I say, stopping before her and giving her a proper curtsey of my own. “I am honored by your presence at my Bridal Court.”
“My dear Gwen,” the Imperatris replies with warmth. “I am greatly pleased with your Hospitality. Everything is beautifully done. Please, proceed.”
Next, I turn to Therutat and repeat a variation of this same traditional greeting. The tiny old priestess, dressed in her usual robes, watches my every move sharply, then nods to me. “Very lovely indeed, Imperial Lady Gwen. Please, do proceed.”
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