CHAPTER TWO—CALDER FEV’ROSK

By the Gods, but I am an idiot.

How is it that the first meaningful exchange I would ever have with my wife ended in an argument whereupon I did no better than call her a back-alley whore? I was sick at the thought of it as I offered her my arm, hoping that she might at least let me escort her.

But she did not—and who could blame her? Instead, she brushed past me, a whisper of silks, and found herself in the corridor, at once much colder, much smaller, and somehow much safer than the room of our intimacy. She hesitated in the hall, looking one way and then the other so that her black curls bounced with every movement, until I finally gestured and mumbled, “This way, if you please.”

She set off ahead of me, and I was content enough to follow in her footsteps, directing her quietly as to which corridor she should take, which staircase, which hall, which door. She was content to let that be the full sum of our exchange; she had nothing else, it seemed, that she wanted to say to me.

I could still feel the sting of her smack on my cheek as we moved, and I tried desperately to understand the source of my sudden vitriol. I had just bedded her, my wife. The only one I would ever have. I had just been welcomed back into my kingdom by a people I thought would surely scorn me. I was planning a coronation celebration. I was back.

And yet…

I scowled as I traipsed along behind Lorelei, my mood souring quickly. I had never wanted this—this girl had fallen from the sky and into my life, and I was attempting to make the best of the shattered pieces with which she had left me. And if she was going to be cold, then I could be cold right back.

But she moved with such careless grace that I wanted to take her hand; I could see her in my mind when she was on top of me, her eyes closing in her ecstasy; I could still taste her mouth. Te’Ovid take her, for she will make me mad.

I was her king, and her guide to the heart of the Spire, even as our wedding celebration raved on without us. No doubt my people were gathered in the great hall, assuming we were still abed, still tangled in one another, and making bawdy jokes about what they had witnessed. Let them joke, let them laugh, and let them enjoy the brief, sweet period wherein they have a Queen.

“We are here,” I said, pushing into a room with a control panel that, admittedly, looked nothing like any of the technology we had in the rest of the village. But Lorelei was right at home. She moved quickly into the space, taking a seat at a black leather chair at the console’s center. Her fingers moved quickly, deftly over the console, until a great screen came to life in front of us.

“How did you do that?” I asked. She did not look up at me, simply continued her quick ministrations over a set of keys and dials.

“It’s fairly primitive technology,” she flatly intoned, but I could see her cringe after she used the word “primitive”. That must be what she thought of this entire planet. Primitive. “I only mean…I grew up using things that are much more complex. This is just a simple menu—it is not even encrypted.”

“What does that word mean?” I asked, drawing nearer to her and peering at the screen in front of us. “Encrypted?”

“Um,” she began, letting her hands drop into her lap. “It means, that…um. Ok, so, when information…?” She paused, canting her head gently to the side as turned to peer up at me. “Encryption is when something starts off straight forward, and then it gets scrambled, before it is sent elsewhere. That way if someone intercepts it who is not meant to see it, they can only unscramble it if they have the key.”

“Like a code.”

“Precisely.”

“And this does not have that?”

“No,” she said, gazing up at a series of blue words against a white background, words in a language I could not understand. “Much to my dismay, there is no encryption. Which is why we took the precaution that we did, right? Getting married?”

I nodded.

“Because the Quarter Moon might intercept the message, and there will be nothing we can do to make sure that they cannot read it.”

She highlighted words with yellow, and I wanted to ask her what she was doing, I wanted to understand, but I did not wish to disturb her concentration. She cast a furtive glance in my direction, and I saw her nostrils flare as she sighed. “I am locking on to the coordinates of the nearest satellite, which I will use to relay the signal to the nearest federation vessel, which will in turn relay the message to the Atria. They will have the names of the women I am seeking, and they will have my name.” She locked her eyes on mine and proffered a hint of a smile. “And they shall have your name, Calder Fev’rosk, as the man who did all he could to help me.”

She typed quickly, and I stood stoic with my hands gripped in front of me. I did not like to be in this space. It made me remember that this great structure was once a space vessel, and that our people were not made for this planet. It reminded me that all of our women had died off, including my mother, the Queen, Romari Roquare. It reminded me that I had abandoned my own people at the height of my grief. It reminded me that I had married a human girl, that I had returned to take my place as king, and that my Queen would soon leave me.

“There,” she said at length, leaning back in the chair. “It is done.”

She rose to her feet, and I watched how the fabric of the gown puddled on the floor until she gripped the gold silk skirts in two small fists, lifting it just enough to allow her some movement. “Did I tell you,” I began tentatively, “how lovely you look tonight?”

“You did, actually,” she rejoined, but I could see that she was smiling, if only a little, if only for an instant. She moved past me to exit the command room, but I caught her lightly by the elbow so that she turned a pair of verdant eyes on me, so full of questions.

“Lorelei,” I murmured, and her expression softened. “I regret our exchange. Deeply. I only—”

She waved a frantic hand in front of her face. “Do not give it another thought.”

“Please,” I went on, drawing her to me. “You must forgive me.”

“Forgiven,” she said, tugging her arm away from me. I sighed; it was not the resolution I had hoped for. But I supposed it would have to suffice.

“Allow me to escort you to the banquet,” I said as she headed out of the room. I followed her like a lovesick pet.

“I am tired,” she asserted. “I think I would like to go to bed, if that is all right with you.”

“No,” I said, sidling along the wall in the corridor until I blocked her path. “Actually, that is not all right with me. My people are expecting us. Perhaps I neglected to make myself perfectly clear: you are a Queen now, for all intents and purposes.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her. I persisted: “You are. You brought me back here, and I have allowed them to put me into the position I had shirked for so long, a position I never thought they would want me to take up again. But they did, and I have. And you are my wife, and you are their Queen.”

“And what shall you tell them when the Atria arrives? What shall you tell them when I board that vessel? Because I will have to board that vessel, Calder. You do know that, do you not?” She peered up at me with eyes pleading for me to understand.

“Yes, but—”

“But what?” She interjected, her shoulders high up at her ears, her hands winged out to the sides. “But…you hoped, what, that I would decide to stay? To just give up trying to rescue my friends? Because I cannot just leave them to rot on that God forsaken slave ship, Calder. I cannot, and I will not.”

“I understand that,” I said, my voice a little stronger, a little louder, “I understand that you will board that vessel, complete the mission you set out to complete. I understand all that.”

“Then why are you treating me as though I’m abandoning you, and your people?” She demanded, raising her voice to match my own.

“Because I thought you might come back!” I all but shouted, my voice ringing off the metal walls around us. She wilted like an autumn flower, and fell into a lean against the wall, not looking at me. “At least,” I went on, my tone decidedly softer, “I hoped you would.”

I watched her as she ran her tongue thoughtfully over her pink lips and draw in a deep breath as though she had decided to say something. But just as she parted her lips to speak, we both turned suddenly at the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor.

“Calder…?” It was Waelden, dressed in all his finery, with a grumpy Vanixa by his side. “There you are. When we saw that the chamber door was ajar, but that you were not at the feast, we sent out a small search party for you.” He beamed at us, thinking nothing was amiss, and I tried to smile back at my old friend. “Will you not come to your own wedding feast, my friend?”

I cast a silent glance to Lorelei and offered her my arm. And with a thin smile, she took it, and we followed Waelden and Vanixa to the banquet hall.

~ * ~

I had to admit, they had decorated the banquet hall beautifully for the occasion. Although the spire was outfitted with electric light, they did not bother to use it for this particular event: candles adorned every spare surface, casting the room in a warm, elegant glow. There were cut flowers: mooetha blooms in bright red, cordana green sprouts, and Kahl’Tari’s lace. There were two long tables on either side of an empty dance floor, but our table, mine and Lorelei’s, was at the center, with two great chairs settled intimately close to one another.

When we entered the hall, everyone in the room stood and began to applaud, and I could not help but grin from ear to ear as I walked the length of the hall, my Queen on my arm. For a moment, I forgot that she would leave me; for a moment, she was simply my new bride. I turned to look at her, and she seemed somewhat uneasy underneath the weight of all that attention. The intoxicating effects of our previous intimacy had worn off and she was self-conscious. I led her to her seat, and pulled it out for her, before taking my spot to her left.

When I sat, I gave a start: at the far end of the hall was a brilliantly appointed portrait of our late leader, Ramari Roquare. I stared, slack-jawed, at her regal beauty, until Lorelei’s voice cut into my reverie.

“Is that her?” She inquired.

I could do nothing but nod my head in confirmation.

“She was very beautiful,” Lore remarked.

“She was that,” I agreed, “and so much more.” The portrait showed her sitting in this very hall, leaning roguishly to one side in her great armchair. She had a finger pressed against the curve of her chin, and though her mouth was not smiling, her eyes certainly were. Her horns were painted slightly larger than I remembered them in real life, but they curved beautifully around her crown, just as I remembered they had. She wore beads in her hair, and gold powder on her eyelids. And it was at once very pleasant and profoundly uncanny that she was somehow here, with us, tonight.

Once we had arrived, the food was served, and I kicked myself silently for not insisting that we go straight to the banquet hall, forgetting that an entire village worth of people was waiting on the two of us to eat their supper. But the food was hot and delicious: meats and fine cheese, sweets and pastries made special, or saved for only the rarest of occasions. Like a priest who had abandoned his post taking up the mantle of a king.

I heaved a sigh and watched Lore eating, tiny little bird nibbles. She was barely present, and her distraction distracted me in turn. I drank down my wine, until I felt somewhat lighter, then I turned to her and said, “You are not my prisoner. You may come and go as you please.”

She blinked, as though she had nearly forgotten that I was sitting next to her, and the sound of my voice had broken the illusion. I frowned.

“I know I am not your prisoner,” she murmured, plucking a piece of sliced melon from her plate and popping it into her mouth. She allowed her gaze to rove idly over the expanse of the room, taking in the dozens of smiling face, individual conversations indistinguishable in the constant din of laughter.

“You are not behaving as though you have any interest in being here,” I quipped, perhaps a little more harshly than I had meant to.

“Well,” she countered, her jaw in a stern line, her teeth clenched, “that is probably because I do not know whether I am your Queen, your whore, or the stranded girl to whom you are so selflessly giving aid. From one moment to the next, I do not know if you are my friend, or my…”

“Your what?”

Instead of answering, she rose to her feet, urging me to mine right along with her. But the people mistook this gesture, and stood with us, their wine glasses raised high as all of their eyes landed on us. Lorelei froze in place, like a frightened animal, so I did all I thought I could do: I took her hand, and raised my wine glass high, and attempted to think of a toast that might be appropriate to the situation.

“Friends, on behalf of Lorelei and myself, I would like to thank you for joining us tonight. Undoubtedly, you were surprised by my sudden return—”

“To say the least!” Waelden called out, garnering a roar of laughter. I smiled and continued.

“And, I should imagine, you were even more surprised by the presence of this lady, who has become my wife.” I swallowed hard, catching a glimpse of Lore out of the corner of my eye as I spoke. “Our village is, I am sad to say, no longer a large one. We have lost our men to age and illness, and all of our women to the strange affliction that came with this new territory. And I am deeply saddened to see that our current unions to the lovely Europax ladies have yielded no fruit. But I shall not give up on you, any of you. I shall speak on your behalf to the Echelon until we have a solution so that we will not die out.”

I paused, and Lorelei squeezed my hand. I suppose that is why I had the strength to say what I said next. “I am…so ashamed that I abandoned you when Ramari Roquare was taken from us. I hope that you will find it in your hearts to forgive me. But until you do, know that this lady, my wife and my Queen, is the reason I came back. Trust me when I say that she has shown exceptional bravery in the face of considerable odds; and her bravery has inspired my own. So raise your glass and honor her: My lady, my love.”

I looked at her then, and she seemed almost stricken, her eyes shining and wet like two glass beads. I lifted my glass slightly as everyone around us said, in unison, “To the Queen”, and drank from their own glasses. Then I sat down and set about finishing my supper. The people did the same.

Lorelei, for her part, lingered awkwardly before deciding to resume her seat, and the din of conversation began to grow around us once more. She cast a sidelong glance my way, picking absently at her nail beds. “That was a nice speech,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“More than…nice.”

“Was it? I never fancied myself an orator.”

She looked out over the room, the strange mix of Qeteshi men and Europax women, and saw that there were three or four dozen souls, all told. “Is this everyone?” She asked, and I think perhaps it only just registered that we were few, and still dying.

“We have a few cooks who have not joined us yet, but yes. This is everyone.” I looked around with her, and with the exception of a few of the ladies, there was not a single individual I could not name. “I think that is why they allowed me to just…come waltzing back and take up the crown. There isn’t much to manage when there are so few people. And when Ramari Roquare died…” I arched one shoulder in a shrug. “It sucked all the air out of the room. And no one wanted to follow her.”

“That surprises me,” she mused quietly. “It is not common for people not to vie for power.”

“We are not a common species.”

“But still,” she persisted, “someone had to be in charge of everything. Someone had to step up.”

“Each man is the master of his domain,” I said. “Waelden runs the armory. Offred is the treasurer. Dvorak is the blacksmith. We aren’t exactly going to war or meeting with the heads of state of other villages—how much they needed a leader is anyone’s guess.”

“But a spiritual leader…”

“Ah, yes,” I remarked. “That. That is where my primary regret lies. But then, I am in no position to be leading anyone to the Gods, when I feel that they have abandoned me.”

“You felt that way when Ramari Roquare died,” she said, reaching out to lay her hand over mine. “But do you still feel that way?”

I parted my mouth to speak, but it was then that Waelden approached and bent at the waist to mutter something in my ear. “Sir,” he said, not without a sense of urgency, “there are a pair of Keldeeri here to see you.”

“Now?” I asked, brows arched high.

“They insisted that it was urgent.” I looked over at Lore who had already gotten to her feet.

“I’m coming with you,” she said. I should not have been the last bit surprised.