by Anthea Sharp
Izar, who had finally slowed to a stop to catch his breath, gave her a sharp look. “You would be squawking, too, if you found an AIRA unit out on the lake!”
The Kaulian woman gaped at him, dropping the metal springs she’d been examining through her magnifying glass. “You didn’t!” she breathed.
Izar’s eyes twinkled with smug triumph. “I did. An older model, maybe a RA-220 or 250, but still far better than what we’ve ever discovered in the refuse pile before!”
Estrelle listened with mild curiosity. She knew nothing about such things. At least, she didn’t think she did. In the week she’d spent with the couple, none of her memories had returned. Sometimes, images would flash before her eyes, quick glimpses of light and shapes, and the visage of a handsome Kaulian man. She had no idea who he was, but every time he flickered into her mind, she tried desperately to hold onto him. But like all the other watery memories, his image always floated out of her reach.
“Estrelle, come look at this! Only the nobility can afford AIRA units, and I’ve only seen one of this particular design in digital images found on the interstellar network!”
Estrelle stepped away from her chore of sorting scrap metal and shuffled over. She was curious, after all.
“It appears the head piece was torn right off. Look at all these frayed wires! Who would do such a thing?”
Estrelle let her eyes travel over the main components of the droid. It looked like a smooth blend of all the various parts she’d seen in Imai’s and Izar’s shop: Roughly egg-shaped with two treads on either side of the base. At the top, where the rounded point narrowed, a hole gaped, wires and cords hanging lose. The buttons and knobs decorating the front of the object were clogged with ice. Yet, there was something strangely familiar about it. Estrelle narrowed her eyes. A memory, or something similar, scraped at the back of her mind …
“The wiring is weather-damaged, but I bet I can salvage it, or even replace it, with what we’ve got lying around.”
Izar lifted up a bowl-shaped piece, more torn wires jutting from the bottom. Two large, dark shapes that resembled insect eyes took up one side, and on the back a symbol had been painted over a large button. Estrelle stared at the symbol, and she nearly fell over as a stream of brilliant recollection flooded her mind. Bright, hot, sunny days resting beside a pool of cool water … hours spent pouring over books and asking questions about a myriad of subjects … boarding a small star cruiser and passing through the wormhole field … crash-landing on a vast, frozen lake … pain, sharp and acrid, jolting through her body before succumbing to a dark abyss.
Estrelle cried out, her eyes going wide as her hands flew up to her temples. Slender fingers speared the thick plates of her hair as everything came rushing forth. She knew why she was here on Kaul.
Imai and Izar, who had been studying their latest treasure, paused to stare at their guest in shock.
“Estrelle, are you unwell?”
She glanced up at them, her honey-hued eyes bright with emotion.
“I remember,” she breathed.
Estrelle polished off two pots of tea before she finished relating the entire story to her hosts. She had started at the beginning, telling them of her great uncle’s plan to marry her to the youngest prince of Kaul in order to solidify the trade agreement. She described the journey in the star cruiser, the crash-landing on the ice plain, and then, Niata’s and Farn’s treachery.
“So, the woman who arrived a week ago is an imposter,” Izar intoned, the look in his eyes grim.
Estrelle nodded bitterly.
“She must be a morpher.”
“Working with an entity who wishes to control commerce by nefarious means,” Estrelle added.
“Your marriage to Damryn would have guaranteed a peaceful, and prosperous, coexistence between our two galaxies.”
Estrelle turned her eyes onto Imai’s face. The older Kaulian woman had placed her cool fingers against Estrelle’s toffee-colored skin. They were so physically different from one another, the Parsans and the Kaulians, yet her heart had not cared about that difference. It still didn’t.
“It was no longer just about an arranged marriage meant to solidify an intergalactic trade route, but a union between two people who had become good friends,” Estrelle said with a small smile. “Perhaps, even more than that.”
At least, it had become so on her end. For all she knew, Damryn was currently happily married to his false bride. The very thought had her heart twisting into knots.
“You care for him greatly, don’t you, child?” Imai asked gently, patting her where her fingers had rested.
Estrelle nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay. Crying would do nothing to stanch the wound, only make it worse.
“I think I might love him,” she admitted.
“Then, what are we doing sitting here moping?” Izar piped. “That storm outside will keep us housebound for at least two days, but we can use that time to rebuild your AIRA unit. Perhaps it recorded what happened between you and the morpher.”
Estrelle brightened at that prospect, and soon the three of them were working to repair the droid. It took them the length of the storm to do so, and at the end, the older Kaulian couple had proven their skill was great indeed.
“Just a few more adjustments, and we should have her up and running,” Izar muttered under his breath while fiddling with a few buttons. AIRA’s head had been refastened, her wires repaired and reconnected. A few more frustrated huffs from Izar, and then, the unit was suddenly ablaze with light and sound. The buttons flickered in shades of blue and red, while her multi-faceted eyes sparkled with luminescence.
“Princess Estrelle!” the computerized voice cried out. “Princess, where are you?”
“Here, AIRA! I’m here!”
The droid’s head spun in place until those strange eyes were trained on the young Parsan woman. Recognition pulsed through the robot, and she whirred and clicked in delight.
“Oh, you are alive and well! Are we in the palace? What happened?”
Estrelle took a few moments to calm her droid, then explained about the forced crash and their current circumstances.
Steam puffed from AIRA’s joints in irritation, but then she hissed with acidic delight, “I believe my recording capabilities may have captured the entire scene.”
A section of metal shifted to the side on AIRA’s frame, and a square of light projected upon the wall. All those present in the cozy common room watched in horror as Niata and Farn worked through their scheme. The recording went blank after Niata discovered AIRA’s attention and sent Farn to deal with her.
Estrelle stood swiftly from where she crouched beside AIRA and glanced down at her attire. She wore one of Imai’s old dresses. It was clean but clearly the garment of a peasant. That didn’t matter, Estrelle told herself. She would march to the palace in rags if she had to.
“What are you planning, child?” Imai asked, her tone wary.
She turned to face her friends. “Does the emperor of Kaul open his halls to hear the concerns of his citizens?” Her great uncle did something of the sort, and she prayed the nobility of Kaul did the same.
Izar nodded, his eyes huge behind his glasses. “Yes. Once a month.”
“And when does the next assembly take place?”
Izar scratched his head and looked away, but it was Imai who answered. “In a few days. If we leave now, we should make it in time.”
It took Estrelle and her friends three days to reach the capital, and on the morning of the third day, Kaul’s sun rose to spill its cool light onto a sprawling city tucked up against the eastern mountains.
Estrelle’s face was numb, half-frozen by the cold, but still her jaw managed to drop at the sight. Even from several miles away, she could make out the pale blue of the stone, or maybe even ice, that had been chiseled to build the great metropolis. And above the beautiful city there rose a palace like none Estrelle had ever seen. Unlike her manor home and her great uncle’s own citadel, th
is stronghold pierced the sky like a crown of crystal shards.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
Imai clicked her tongue. “Yes, it truly is. There are a scattering of cities and towns all over Kaul, but nothing compares to its capital.”
Within the hour, the small party reached the outer fringes of the city, and Estrelle could only gape as they followed a wide, snow-covered lane, passing tall Kaulians busy with their daily routines. The streets grew more crowded the closer they got to the palace, and once they reached the main gates, they were pointed in the direction of a line of citizens waiting patiently for their chance to speak to the emperor.
Estrelle’s stomach churned with unease, and AIRA was uncharacteristically quiet as the queue of people inched slowly toward the palace entry. By midday, she and her friends finally stepped into the grand hall. A wide carpet decorated with intricate geometric patterns ran from the doorway to the dais, and a ceiling that rose far above their heads protected them from the elements. But it wasn’t the impressive chamber, nor the diverse assembly of chattering people, that caught Estrelle’s attention. Atop the tiered dais sat two large thrones, both occupied by a beautiful Kaulian man and woman. She could tell they were tall, even in their seated state, and they wore silvery robes embroidered with more symbols unfamiliar to her. When she let her eyes drift to the side, however, she sucked in a breath.
A pair of smaller thrones hosted another Kaulian man, younger than those beside him, but familiar in his quiet grace. Damryn. His current visage was one of bored indifference, far from the one of mirthful ease displayed in the picture she’d received from him. He sat leaning against his fist, his elbow resting on the armrest closest to his father.
Biting her lip, Estrelle flicked her eyes to his left and cold dread pooled within her. That was her sitting next to him, dressed lavishly in the traditional formal garb of the Kaulian court. No, not her. Captain Niata, the morpher, wearing her face. She, too, looked bored, her legs casually crossed as she studied her fingernails. Sighing, the traitorous woman leaned over to run a hand up Damryn’s arm, and the ice in Estrelle’s stomach turned to fire as jealousy raged through her. Her only consolation was the prince’s reaction. Whether he made the move consciously or not, Damryn jerked his arm out of Niata’s reach, not once looking in her direction.
“We’re up next!” Izar hissed over his shoulder.
Estrelle shook her head and blinked. They had moved up in line, the smaller dais and podium provided for petitioners only a few steps away. Estrelle kept the hood over her head upon entering the throne room, trying to retain some sense of anonymity until it was her turn to speak. She was just another peasant come to complain about poor wages or high rents. Would anyone even notice her resemblance to the prince’s betrothed?
Her questions were answered when she reached up to push the hood back onto her shoulders. A collective gasp from the crowd almost tore the last scrap of courage from Estrelle’s heart, but she did not quail. She lifted her amber eyes first to the emperor, then his wife, both now glancing quickly between her and Niata.
Estrelle didn’t dare look to Damryn when she announced, her voice shaking a little, “Your supreme majesties, I come today not yet as a citizen of Kaul, but as a national of Parsa to inform you that I, and your royal house, have been victims of deceit and treachery.”
She paused as the murmuring grew louder, this time giving the prince a tentative glance. His gaze – sharp, intelligent, and clear – nearly brought her to her knees. His attention was honed entirely on her, even as her doppelganger plucked at his sleeve and cast her a glare cold enough to freeze Staerra’s surface. Estrelle did not look away. She returned Niata’s gaze, softening it only when she returned her eyes to the prince of Kaul. Please believe me, she tried to say with that glance. The woman beside you is not the one who has grown to care about you as I have.
“Explain to me,” the emperor boomed above the chatter, “how I find myself gazing upon two copies of the same Parsan woman who would be my son’s bride.”
Estrelle stood tall, tilting her chin up ever so slightly. “My name is Estrelle Vaerova, Princess of Parsa. A year ago, my great uncle bargained with you to draw up a marriage contract between myself and your youngest son, Prince Damryn L’soren. On my journey here a week ago, the captain of the star cruiser carrying me deliberately crash-landed upon the far edge of the ice field, then assumed my identity. She is a morpher working for an enemy eager to control the new trade opportunities my marriage to Prince Damryn would create. I have traveled with my companions to right a wrong committed to both of us, your grace.”
Three royal heads turned to pin Niata in place.
“She lies!” the morpher cried out. “I have no idea what she is talking about.”
Damryn stepped away from Niata and said loud enough for Estrelle to hear, “I don’t know what to believe anymore. You were not the woman I corresponded with when you arrived, and I wondered if all those words were simply put into place to win my regard. Yet, how can I be certain which of you is truly Estrelle, or if none of you are?”
The murmuring picked up again as people speculated on the outcome of this latest development. Before the congregation could grow too loud, Estrelle called out, “Ask me a question only the true Estrelle would know the answer to.”
A sudden whisper washed over the assembly like a wave, and their chatter ceased. Estrelle’s eyes locked with Damryn’s. His mouth was downturned in discontent, his fists clenched at his sides. Just when Estrelle thought he’d turn her away, he drew in a breath and said, “I told you my favorite color was red. Why?”
Tears pooled in Estrelle’s eyes. Of all the questions he could have asked her, this one she knew the best. “Because it is the color of Hettar, the name your people have given my star. The one my planet orbits and the one that shines brightest in your night sky. The star that keeps you company on your nightly strolls.”
Damryn’s fierce visage relaxed and bright joy suffused his eyes. “You are real,” he said, his words scraping against his throat.
Estrelle stepped forward, climbing the cascading staircase slowly. Damryn copied her, his feet never faltering down the steps, despite the fact his attention was fixed on her.
Estrelle reached up and placed a tentative palm against his cheek. His eyes, like clear desert sapphires, shuttered closed, and he leaned his face gently into her touch. His smooth skin, so pale with just a hint of blue beneath the surface, reminded her of the frozen lake stretching for miles beneath the city, cool as ice but heating swiftly beneath her touch. Hair as white as the snow covering the land brushed against her knuckles, the soft strands like fine corn silk. She yearned to run her fingers through it, but didn’t dare show such familiarity here, in front of the entire congregation. One thing was certain, however: Prince Damryn was absolutely beautiful, more so than his picture gave him credit. So much like the planet he called home.
He reached up and curled long, strong fingers around her wrist. Not to stop her caress, but to offer his own modest comfort.
“I knew she wasn’t the woman I had come to know so well in our letters,” he whispered, his fine voice nothing more than a rasp. “Despite my misgivings, I held out hope that such a woman truly existed somewhere and that someday I’d find her.”
Estrelle suppressed a shudder and closed the distance between them. They were almost touching, but she resisted the temptation to accept a full embrace.
“I am sorry, Prince Damryn. After the crash, I awoke with most of my memories lost. If not for Imai and Izar, I would have perished in the cold. They took me in, without question, and offered me a home until we found my AIRA unit and all was revealed.”
The AIRA unit in question was currently showing the entire congregation the evidence against Niata and Farn. The room grew silent once again as the morpher and her henchman acted out their duplicity. When the recording went blank, several dozen heads turned to gaze upon the false princess and the tall Garsinian who had climbed th
e dais to hover by her side. Within moments, the emperor ordered his guards to seize them and take them to the holding cells below the city.
Damryn ignored the scuffle that ensued and instead smiled at Estrelle, making her stomach flip and her knees go weak. His expression of elation radiated a subtle light that transformed him from an exotic, pleasing man to an irresistibly handsome one.
The Prince of Kaul took her hand, turning his back on the gathering of people, now far more interested in the emperor’s guards dragging the morpher and her henchman out of the throne room.
“Would you like to join me in a walk through the capital’s forest park?”
Estrelle beamed at him, pressing in close to his side. She laced her fingers with his in a friendly gesture and replied, “I would absolutely love to, your highness.”
“Damryn. I am Damryn to you, my lady.”
She laughed. “And I am Estrelle.”
As one, they stepped from the dais through a parting crowd, a radiant aura of the promise of love and devotion trailing in their wake like the brilliant tail of a comet.
Epilogue
* * *
Estrelle stood within the comfortable ring of Damryn’s arms, her head resting against his chest, and gazed out over the wide basin between the mountains. The short blended spring and summer months had finally come to Kaul and below them fragments of blue-white ice jostled for space atop the dark water of the great lake. Lining the shore for as far as the eye could see, a palette of red, blue, green, white, and yellow blossoms stood, shaking off winter’s lingering chill.
The ever-present bite to the air did not bother Estrelle, and she sighed contentedly, snuggling in closer to her husband. Despite his cool skin, he radiated warmth whenever she was near. Perfectly comfortable, Estrelle let her eyes drift shut. Three months had passed since her arrival in the royal city of Kaul with evidence of the crimes committed against her. And she had known nothing but happiness since. Izar and Imai had been offered the shared position of Royal Mechanic, and so she got to visit them as often as she liked.