Continuum (35 page)

Zefa makes quick work of unstrapping his harness as the sides of the dome slide close, leaving only the dim light of the control panel to light the cockpit and the landing pad.  I fumble around with my own harness as Zefa walks briskly off the ship.  I quickly stand and stumble off the ship after him.

Zefa is climbing the stairs, two at a time, to a platform built into the lower part of the dome.  In the relative darkness, I hadn’t noticed the three figures standing there.  I immediately recognize Izic as the man dressed in head to toe white, flanked by two massive bodyguards dressed in black uniforms with the same symbol as the ship stitched in white over their heart.  Izic’s dark hair is slicked back and streaked with a line of silver.  It’s his eyes.  His eyes are the exact pale green of Fallon’s.  His stance is rigid and his face betrays no emotion.  There is an authoritative aura about him.

His hands are clasped behind his back and he nods curtly to me as I walk up behind Zefa, “You must be Ethan.  Please excuse Zefa while he debriefs me.  I will have Arek here take you to your quarters to refresh yourself and we will reconvene shortly.”  Arek, the giant to his right, steps forward.

I hold my hand up in stop motion and the giant rocks back on his heels, “With all due respect... but no, I don’t think so.  I want to be part of this.  I have to be part of this.”

Izic’s nostrils flare slightly.  He’s probably not used to insubordination.  “You will be a part of this, but there are things I have to address with Zefa that do not concern my daughter.”

I square my shoulders, “If it concerns your war then it concerns your daughter.  That’s the reason they took her.”

His eyes narrow in scrutiny, but he doesn’t address what I just said.  “It will only be a moment.  Arek, take him.”

Arek is about two heads taller than me and his shoulders are twice as wide.  His beefy hand lands on my shoulder and I have no choice but to comply.  I pause but Zefa gives me a look that clearly says “don’t push your luck.”  So I take my leave with Arek as Zefa and Izic walk off in the opposite direction with the other bodyguard.  Despite his massive size, Arek moves silent as a ghost as he leads me down a long narrow hallway.  He is so large I cannot walk beside him and instead his hand stays firmly clasped on my shoulder, guiding me.

We reach the end of the corridor, he releases my shoulder to reach over and press his left wrist against a flat black panel.  It lights up and I take note of the two thin black lines tattooed around his forearm.  A portion of the wall appears beside us, sliding back to reveal a small empty room.  Wordlessly, he motions me inside to wait.  He just turns his back to me and the door slides shut a second later.  

With Arek standing guard outside, I feel more like a prisoner than a guest.  It’s a very basic bedroom with a neatly made bed, side table with a lamp, and a simple white dresser.  There is a small attached bathroom with a toilet and a small sink wedged next to the tiny shower.  

I rest my hands against the rim of the sink, looking at my reflection in the small silver mirror hanging above it.  My appearance matches my state of mind--frenzied.  The dark circles under my eyes look dark as bruises and my hair is crazed from my anxious tugging and pulling.  I turn on the faucets, splashing cold water on my face.  I enter the bedroom again and sit down on the bed, leaning my head against the wall.  The lack of sleep catching up to me, I close my eyes for a moment and then the world goes black.

Fallon

When I awake, the room is dark but I know I am laying on the bed in Eku.  I don’t have the energy to get out from under the covers.  My constant state of fear is exhausting.  A knock sounds at my door and I get off the bed immediately.  I press my body against the wall furthest from the door.  “What do you want?” I call out, trying to sound aloof.

“I hope you’re dressed.  I’m coming in.”  The door opens slowly and in steps the female from Epir's monitor.  “Epir sent me to make you look presentable.”  

I am still wearing the same blood stained shirt and jeans from two days ago and my hair is dirty.  Why the hell would he want me to look presentable?  For my public execution?  She looks at me appraisingly and lets out a deep sigh.  “My husband does enjoy presenting me with a challenge.  This will be a monumental undertaking.  Send in the rack!”

Horrified by her words, I am almost relieved when a rack of dresses is brought into the room by two of the bodyguards.   Unsure of what to expect, I stay where I am but assess her from a distance.  Her skin is a flawless shade of ivory, her calculating violet eyes are framed by long dark lashes, her full lips are painted into a haughty red sneer, and her long, dark hair hangs in silky sheet down her back—the evil queen disguised as Snow White.

She sits down at the dressing table by the door and she pouts at her reflection, examining her face in the mirror.  She doesn't look back as she starts talking to me in a bored voice, “I am called Umira, Queen of Eku.  Epir wants you to look presentable for your father though I am sure your father is aware of your plainness.”

I am seized by fear at her words.  Was Izic here?  Impossible.  My father would not endanger the wellbeing of an entire planet for mine. 
He is all about making sacrifices for the greater good
, I think bitterly.  It must be another of Epir’s games.  “I think my father would be more concerned that I am being held against my will.”

“Please do not speak out of turn, Fallon.  You are young and have spent your whole life on Uerth.  You do not understand how these matters work.  We are hosting our first formal affair as king and queen.”

“Is that what they call public executions on Eku?”

She makes an exasperated noise in the back of her throat.  “Do as you are told or your wish will come true.  You really do not want to make this difficult for me.  My temperament is much like my husband's and he would not be pleased if I disposed of you before the time came.”  Umira's violet eyes narrow just slightly as she says this.  She pauses to wrinkle her nose in distaste and points toward the bathroom, “Now, get in there and clean yourself up.  You smell as disgusting as you look.”

I hesitate for a heartbeat, but think better of it and walk into the bathroom.  There is no lock on the door.  I am startled by my reflection in the mirror, dark circles are etched into face, my lips are dry and cracked, my hair sticking in every direction from sleep.  My breaths come out in shallow gasps as my mind races.  Would Izic really come to Eku?  Under the pretense of a formal affair?  Surely, Epir would not kill my father in front of all roomful of influential people.

There is a sharp knock at the door followed by Umira’s muffled voice, “I do not hear the water running.  I will send a guard in to clean you if you will not clean yourself.”

I can't keep Umira waiting with my postulating, so I shower as quickly as possible using whatever product is inside the crystal containers lining the tub.  I dry off hastily and put on one of the white robes hanging on the wall, pausing to run my fingers through my damp hair.  

When I come out, Umira has brought in more equipment and she has an assistant with her.  A tall, slender male with the long, wavy blonde hair dressed in a simple white button down and outrageously tight black pants.  He purses his lip when he sees my appearance and then turns to Umira, giving her an exasperated grimace.  She speaks for him,  “Lexi is my personal beauty consultant.  He will try and work a miracle.”  

Pulling out the dainty white chair from the dressing table, Lexi finally address me directly, “Sit down.  We have a lot of work to do.”  I sit down obediently and he lifts up a lock of my hair examining the ends.  He drops it with a sigh and starts rolling up his shirt sleeves, revealing two thin red bands painted on his left forearm.

He spends the next hour meticulously cutting my hair, lock by lock.  After he is satisfied, Lexi painstakingly blow dries my hair until it is flawless and glossy.  He sets a box on the dressing table and presses a button on the top.  It splits open, revealing two trays that rise up and extend out to the sides of the box.  Neat rows of jars, tubes, and compacts line the trays.  He reaches into the center of the box and pulls out an arsenal of brushes.  Then Lexi gets to work on my painting my face, carefully dabbing, brushing, and blending.   

Umira picks through the rack of dresses, pulling out a dress, examining it, and then putting it back on the rack.  She does this again and again until she settles on a dress and tosses it on the bed.  She bends down at the selection of shoes lining the bottom of the rack and selects a pair of shoes for me to wear.  Now I really feel like I’m being held prisoner in a dollhouse.  They leave the room to let me get dressed.

I feel different already, my hair feels light from my haircut and my lips are sticky with gloss.  The dress she picked out is a conservative black sheath with three quarter length sleeves and a slim patent leather belt at the waist.  The material is soft but it feels restrictive compared to my usual uniform of jeans and a t-shirt.  And I'm absolutely towering, barely balancing myself on a pair of four inch black stilettos.  At least they gave me a weapon. 

Umira and I are escorted by the same somber team of bodyguards from yesterday.  I don’t mind their vice grip on my arms as I am barely teetering on the slim black heels.  Umira clips along in small, sure strides in an even taller pair of crimson, platform high heels.  She can move surprisingly fast in those things, her steps restricted by the pencil silhouette of her fitted, sleeveless navy dress.  

We walk down seven treacherous flights of marble stairs before the staircase ends.  I have to concentrate so I don’t end up with a twisted ankle.  At the bottom of the stairs are two solid gold doors carved with enormous griffins.  Umira pauses to press her wrist against the door, the panel lighting up as it scans the three red lines on her left forearm.  Seeing the wings of the griffins, I automatically think about the delicate silver necklace around my neck.  Luckily, I had enough foresight to tuck my necklace inside my dress.

The doors slide open to reveal a vast formal dining room.  The whole room is white marble—the floors, the walls, the ceiling.  Everything seems to just melt together and the ceiling looks impossibly high.  The room is flooded with light by the massive cathedral windows placed ten feet off the ground.  In the center of the vast room is a single wooden dining table.  To call it enormous would be an understatement.  How many trees did it take to carve out this massive thing?

The colossal round table top is composed of pieces of wood arranged in a parquet, inlaid to form inverted arrow tops that meet in the center of the table.  Instead of traditional legs, the table top is supported by four elaborately carved griffins, their great wings taking up the entire center of the table.  There are eight matching wooden chairs with griffins carved into the backs. 

The table only has four place settings.  A small white porcelain plate trimmed with double lines of gold is nestled in a larger solid gold plate.  In the center of the plate is a white linen napkin in a gold napkin ring shaped like a curved wing.  An assortment of gold cutlery is carefully laid out on both sides.  Crystal glasses with gold rims in various sizes are placed next to the plates.  In the center of the table is a pair of giant gold candelabra intricately carved with delicate leaves filled with burning white candles.

Epir is sitting at the table, calmly reading from a black tablet in front of him.  He looks as cool and composed as he did yesterday in his office, but now I know how quickly his mood can change.  He doesn't look up when we enter the room.  The sound of our heels clicking on the marble is deafening.  Umira perches herself on the chair next to Epir and he tilts his head to the side to allow her to give him a formal kiss on the cheek.  My aching feet are grateful as I fold myself into a chair across from them.  The four guards move silently to flank my chair.  I gaze at the empty setting next to me.  This chair is meant for Izic.

Umira is murmuringly softly in Epir’s ear as his finger scrolls down the screen of his tablet.  Neither one of them pays me any attention, I might as well be sitting in my cell.  When Umira finishes whatever she is reporting to him, Epir regards me with his apathetic stare, still saying nothing.  Unflinchingly, I return his cool gaze.  It is then sitting across from them in silence that things start clicking into place.  

Epir is afraid of me.  Or at least of the unknown.  He knows nothing about me or my abilities.  Otherwise, he wouldn't have four guards on me at all times.  But he sent his wife into my room alone.  Umira must either be very powerful or very disposable.

I shuffle my cutlery around and clear my throat pointedly.  Epir's expression and posture remain unchanged, save for a slight pinching of his mouth.  “So, is there a point to this exercise?  Or is this just another show of your power?”  

Epir gives me one of his signature cold smiles, “Can I not dote on my own family?”

“I have witnessed first hand how you treat your family.”

He makes an irritated, dismissive noise in the back of his throat, “You are too much like Izic.  He was always far too serious.  This is just going to be a quiet family meal.”

“Let me guess, I'm the first course.”  

Umira's eyes are angry slits of purple but Epir just chuckles softly, “You will have to wait and see.  We are still waiting for one more guest.  We do not want to be rude, now do we?  I hope he arrives, I did send for him last minute.”

Epir starts tapping away on his tablet again.  My back is to the entrance but I can hear the sound of heavy boots making their way down the empty hallway.  My heart is hammering against my ribcage and I'm praying it was not Izic they were bringing in here.  I don't dare turn around or even let out a single breath as the golden doors slide open.  

A guard marches past my chair and across the table, leaning over to whisper into Epir's ear.  Epir’s gray eyes flash in my direction momentarily at the news being relayed.  He nods and the guard turns to leave.  Unconsciously, I let out a gasp when I see his informant.  The guard is dressed in a formless black t-shirt and loose fitting leather pants tucked into combat boots could be Umira's twin--had to be her twin.  Her hair is tucked under a black cap, but she has the same unusual purple eyes.  They would look exactly identical except for the jagged scar running from her ear to her lip, distorting the left side of her face.  Her amethyst eyes flash with irritation and she sneers at me on her way out.