Coronation: A Kid Sensation Novel (Kid Sensation #5) (21 page)

After leaving my grandmother, I still had a few hours before we had to depart for the
prexetus
. That said, I knew from past experience that the time would fly by.

Once back in my room, I took a quick shower and got cleaned up. It was my second shower of the day (not that I was keeping count), but – having spent part of the afternoon stomping along muddy creek beds and through dusty old buildings – it seemed merited.

I was about to start getting dressed when Sloe, ever-present outside my door, announced through some type of intercom that I had a visitor. It was Berran. I told Sloe to show him in, and then – after throwing on a pair of sweats and a polo shirt – went out to the living room to meet him.

“I hope you will forgive my impertinence,” the courier said upon seeing me, “but I came to wish you luck tonight, Prince.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Why would I consider that impertinence?”

“Because it implies that you are not fully capable on your own of passing the
prexetus
.”

“Oh. Well, on Earth, wishing someone luck is simply viewed as a sign of support, not lack of faith.”

“Yes, Prince. That’s why I did it.”

“Aaah,” I said, understanding. “I appreciate the homage to Earth culture.”

“My pleasure.”

“So, any advice for me on this thing?”

“Unfortunately, no. A
prexetus
is such a rare event that I’m not sure any could properly advise you.”

“So it’s an exam on a subject that no one is qualified to teach, prep me for, or advise me on. Sounds like the game might be rigged.”

“Even if it is, I know of no one more qualified or competent. I have no doubt that you will succeed.”

“Thanks,” I said, sensing sincerity from him. “That’s very kind of you to say. But let’s not make this all about me. What have you been up to today?”

The question obviously took him a little by surprise, but with a little coaxing he shared with me (in very generic terms) that he had spent the day running errands for my grandmother. We then spent a good bit of time chatting idly, mostly about my observations on Caeles. By the time Berran departed, it was almost time for my grandmother and me to leave.

I hurriedly got dressed. The garb that I wore was something akin to a sherwani; it was black-and-gold in color, and extraordinarily comfortable. As I put the hated crown on my head, I noticed the Cantillate nut sitting on a table. I had tossed it there absentmindedly just before jumping into the shower. Remembering Myshtal’s comment that it was supposed to bring good fortune, I put it in my pocket. Tonight, I was going to need all the luck I could get.

I hurried up to the landing pad, where my grandmother was waiting. She wore a long, elegant white dress and a goddess necklace made of dark jewels and ebon metal.

She smiled at me and said, “I’ve never seen so handsome a prince,
Sxibbo
– and I’d say that even if you weren’t my thrice-child.”

“You look beautiful as well,
Sxahnin
,” I said truthfully. “I can understand now why Gramps would marry you – even if you were twice his age.”

She laughed and gave me a playful pinch on the cheek. A moment later, we were aboard the transport and taking off.

Officially, the function we were attending was a gala for the return of Queen Dornoccia, who had been traveling for an extended period. Under that protocol, the
prexetus
was merely a formal activity that was being conducted in an informal setting. In actuality, however, it was a case of a fight on the undercard being more exciting than the main event. In short, the
prexetus
was the reason for the season.

The night’s festivities were being held in a massive ballroom the size of a stadium, which sat in an even larger castle that served as the queen’s primary residence. Despite arguably being the man of the hour, our arrival was greeted with little fanfare. Once there, the situation seemed to morph into a continuation of my banquet from a few days before, with Indigo essentially ferrying me from person to person and making introductions. The only difference was that there were thousands of people present on this occasion. Still, I like to think that I played my part admirably, listening to repetitive (and sometimes impractical) advice about the
prexetus
, and giving stock responses to inane questions about the same.

After about half an hour, I felt incredibly bored by the entire routine.
Prexetus
aside, the entire party seemed hollow to me. It felt like it was missing something, like it was empty in a crucial and significant way. I kept glancing around, trying to figure out what it was, trying to put my finger on the element that was lacking. And then, out of the blue, I suddenly realized what it was: I was looking for Myshtal.

Mentally, I slapped myself. I had enough issues (including a girlfriend), and didn’t need my focus diminished by…what? Infatuation? A crush? No, it wasn’t any of those things, I was sure. Maybe just momentary fascination. Whatever it was, though, I needed to get a handle on it. With that, I redoubled my efforts to connect with the people my grandmother was introducing me to and tried my best not to think about Myshtal.

We were about an hour into it when mad whispering seemed to overtake everyone present, like a disease that forced everyone to speak softly, and only in mouth-to-ear fashion. It only took a few seconds to understand what the commotion was about: Queen Dornoccia had arrived. As if to confirm this, a voice suddenly boomed out from – presumably – hidden speakers throughout the ballroom:

“DISTINGUISHED VISITORS AND GUESTS, MEMBERS OF THE ROYAL FAMILY, PLEASE WELCOME HER MAJESTY QUEEN DORNOCCIA, EMPRESS OF THE CAELESIAN EMPIRE, RULER OF…”

I stopped listening as the speaker began reciting the queen’s long list of titles, focusing my attention instead on trying to catch a glimpse of her. There was a roped-off section of stairs near the center of the room, with a contingent of the royal guards on site to prevent anyone from using the staircase in question. I had initially presumed that the queen would make her appearance there, and then walk haughtily down the stairs to join the party.

Instead, she seemed to have come in some door at the far side of the room – at least I presumed as much from the way all heads in the room seemed to swivel in that direction. I still couldn’t see her, even when I telescoped my vision; there were just too many bodies in the way. For a moment, I was tempted to float up into the air for a better view, but the last thing I wanted to do was draw extra attention to myself. Plus, my grandmother had her hand on my arm.

She must have sensed my desire to do something, because a moment later I received a mental command from her:

I didn’t think I had the patience, but wait I did. Obviously, Queen Dornoccia was working the room, being affable and personable like any good politician. There were far too many people for her to say hello to everyone, so she was probably singling out a few select friends and key allies for the privilege of personal acknowledgment.

Slowly, the queen seemed to make her way towards us. As she got closer, I took a small risk and rose a few inches into the air. Indigo immediately tugged on my arm and gave me a hard stare.

I sent her a telepathic apology and came back down, but had noticed something interesting: I hadn’t been able to see her face, but from what I had observed, Queen Dornoccia appeared to move in the center of a broad circle, almost as if there was a force field around her that kept others from getting too close. However, as the distance between us diminished, I realized that it was bodyguards – not a force field – creating the circle, allowing only those identified by the queen to breach its perimeter.

It wasn’t until they were about ten feet away that enough bodies cleared out for me to finally be able to see into the circle formed by the guards, and my mouth dropped open. There, in the circle, was someone I recognized.

It was the woman from early that morning. The one I had rescued from the crashing ship. The one I had called old. The one I had referred to as senile.

She was Queen Dornoccia.

For a moment I froze, unsure of what to do. I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to simply teleport out of there. However, I couldn’t simply pull a vanishing act without a word to Indigo; I needed to give her fair warning of what was likely to come (which, at the bare minimum, would probably be a very severe and public tongue-lashing for insulting the queen).

<
Sxahnin
!> I screeched telepathically.

she shot back angrily.

My mind raced along, envisioning various scenarios and how things were likely to play out. Few had a happy ending. In the most optimistic version, the queen simply didn’t recognize me. That was a distinct possibility; she had only seen me for a few crisis-filled minutes, when her mind was surely preoccupied with other things. Plus, I was dressed entirely different then, in Earth clothes.

Thinking now that there might be a sliver of light at the end of the tunnel, I looked towards Queen Dornoccia and made the horrible mistake of making eye contact. I averted my gaze immediately, but not before I saw the light of recognition in her eyes. Obviously a simple change of wardrobe wasn’t going to do the trick. Even worse, with my peripheral vision, I noticed the queen making a beeline for us.

I took a deep breath and then looked up. If I was going to be shamed and berated, it would be with my head held high, not with a sheepish look of embarrassment.

The circle of guards had just reached us and come to a halt. The queen then motioned for us to step towards her. We walked between two large and imposing bodyguards and then stood before Her Majesty Queen Dornoccia.

Now that I took a good look at her, I could see that she was a handsome woman who seemed to be hitting the upper end of the middle-age bracket. (If she were from Earth, I’d say she was in her early sixties.) Her face was starting to wrinkle, showing the lines of age, but couldn’t hide the fact that she had once been a great beauty. However, the sharp look in her eyes and the confidence in her step may it abundantly clear that, in many ways, she was still in her prime.

She was bedecked as one would expect of a monarch, starting with the shimmering, jeweled tiara that she wore on her head. Her dress was a floor-length gray gown with precious stones beaded into the needlework in a floral pattern on the bodice. A matching scarf, long and rectangular, was wrapped around her elbows and hung loosely at her back. Around her neck she sported a string of jewels that looked like black, oval-shaped pearls.

“N’d’go,” the queen said. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

“Likewise, Highness,” Indigo said, inclining her head. She then gestured towards me. “Please permit me to introduce my thrice-child, Prince J’h’dgo.”

I bowed my head slightly.

“As luck would have it, Prince J’h’dgo and I are already acquainted,” Queen Dornoccia said.

A look that was half confusion and half consternation crossed my grandmother’s face, and her eyes flitted back and forth between me and the queen as she tried to put that last statement into context.

“You no doubt heard that I had some difficulty reaching the Acropolis today,” the queen continued.

“There were rumors,” Indigo replied. “But I didn’t know how seriously to take them.”

“Well, the rumors are true,” Queen Dornoccia said. “I would probably be dead if not for Prince J’h’dgo. He saved my life.”

My grandmother gave me a stony look. “He never said a word.”

I began, attempting to explain.

Indigo replied firmly.

“Uh, how’s Al’si?” I asked Queen Dornoccia. “Your
rtasna
?” (I had looked the term up in the library earlier, and discovered it loosely translates as
aide de camp
.)

“Recovering, but she’ll be fine,” the queen said. “I’m sure she wishes she could be here to thank you in person. But since she isn’t, I brought a stand-in of sorts.”

The queen turned slightly to her rear, and someone stepped forward. To my great surprise, it was Myshtal, wearing an elegant black evening gown that accentuated her form perfectly.

“I believe you already know my quint-child,” Queen Dornoccia continued. If I understood correctly, that meant Myshtal was her great-great-granddaughter.

“Uh…yes,” I mumbled, trying to adjust to the fact that this girl I’d been hanging out with was closely related to the queen. Turning to her, I said, “It’s good to see you again, Myshtal.”

At that moment, three things happened simultaneously: Indigo’s mouth dropped open, Queen Dornoccia frowned in stern disapproval, and Myshtal burst out in hysterical laughter. I’d clearly committed some
faux pas
, but had no idea what it was.

*****

So it turned out that Myshtal wasn’t really named Myshtal; her name was actually Isteria. Apparently, “Myshtal” was a term of affection used between women who were either good friends or closely related, but when used by a man, it generally referred to a woman with whom he was romantically involved. In short, it was the Caelesian parallel for the word “girlfriend.”

When my error was explained to me, I quickly racked my brains trying to remember if I had ever directly referred to Isteria (as I now knew her name to be) as Myshtal. I knew that Nylerin had called her that – possibly Vicra as well (which was possibly understandable since he was crushing on her and they’d had a thing at one time) – but, frankly speaking, I couldn’t remember if I had. That didn’t seem unusual to me. If you’re hanging out with a friend – especially if it’s just the two of you – you generally don’t say their name every time you address them: “Gina, what time is it? Gina, I need to tell you something. Gina, let’s go…”

Thankfully, a swift explanation and apology from me for the misunderstanding seemed to smooth everything over; the look of displeasure disappeared from the queen’s face, and my grandmother quickly recovered from the jolt my social blunder had given her. Myshtal/Isteria (who had found the whole thing hilarious) was gracious about the entire situation, even telling me in a whisper (and with a wink), “If it makes it easier for you, just continue calling me Myshtal.”

Before I could think of a proper response, the queen spoke, saying, “Walk with me, J’h’dgo.”

There must have been something special about the words she used, or perhaps she made a gesture that I missed. Regardless, everyone else within the circle of guards quickly stepped back, including my grandmother. Within seconds, only Queen Dornoccia and myself were left standing inside her ring of protectors.

The queen didn’t immediately speak, but began walking. The bodyguards moved in tandem with her – even those in front who were facing forward. Obviously, they were getting an indication of the direction in which the queen wished to go in some manner that was imperceptible to me. On my part, I simply fell into step beside Queen Dornoccia and tried to keep up.

The guests in the room parted for us much as the commoners on the street had previously done for me alone. In a moment, our destination became clear: the roped-off stairwell.

To their credit, the guards at the stairs timed everything perfectly, opening a pathway up the stairwell just as we arrived so that we didn’t have to break stride. The queen marched straight up without hesitating. Walking next to her, I instinctively put out my arm as support; to my great surprise, she took it, placing a firm grip on my forearm as we continued to the next floor.

It was at that point that I realized that she and I were alone. Glancing back, I saw that her bodyguards – the ones that had formed the protective circle around the queen – were at the bottom of the stairs. They had stayed behind. I didn’t know how to interpret that, and it played slightly on my nerves.

Queen Dornoccia released my forearm, at which point I realized that we were on the landing at the top of the stairs. Looking around, I saw that the available space was rather small – perhaps three hundred square feet – and populated by a number of tables and chairs, but not much else. The most dominant feature was a set of elaborate double doors, roughly ten feet in height, directly across from the stairwell. All in all, the landing had the feel of a waiting room.

The queen headed straight to the double doors.

“Come along,” she said and then slipped inside.

Assuming this was the start of the
prexetus
, I reached out telepathically to my grandmother, who gave me a mental hug and wished me luck, and then hurried to catch up to the queen.