“Why did you stop at the edge of the forest?” Shania’s voice quavered with a mixture of delight and awe. She lounged across Delia’s bed, wearing a billowing white nightgown and the wedding crown. She helped herself to another coconut ball from the platter of treats she’d asked the head baker to send up. The infoscreen rested on her lap, the monitor full of dress designs.
“Second thoughts, I suppose,” Delia said, reaching for a sweet. She decided to keep the bodyguard a secret. There was no need to divulge his presence to Shania, someone who found keeping secrets such an impossible burden she actually got hives on her neck. “And I knew Mother would be irate if I’d actually gone to Rexula.” She was still in her stolen pilot’s uniform.
Delia then popped the treat in her mouth, letting it melt before chewing. “Were you worried?” she said, trying to bring a lightness to her voice. “If I didn’t come back you would have had to marry one of the princes.”
“I’ve already narrowed it down to my top picks.” Shania held up the infoscreen as evidence. “I’ll admit when you told me about meeting Prince Felix, I was incredibly jealous. Look at that jawline! He graduated from the military in the top two percent!” She squinted at the digital image. “Not the best teeth, but in time you wouldn’t even notice anymore.”
Delia leaned back on the bed. It was so big she and her sister barely touched each other.
“Who’s your favorite so far?” Shania asked, reaching for another treat. “Oh, wait, you’re going for more of a strategic choice rather than who will give you better-looking children, aren’t you?”
“Children.” Delia closed her eyes. An overwhelming wave of fear settled in her chest. “No, I have no favorite based on my research.”
“Hmm, which one keeps popping up in your thoughts?” Shania was determined to get a name out of her sister.
An image of the bodyguard smirking from the copilot seat came to Delia. “I can’t give you a name,” she answered with a yawn.
“Don’t get all sleepy on me. I want to talk!” Shania poked her sister with the toe of her silk slipper. “When Winnie found out you’d taken a ship, the feathers on her headdress almost caught fire she was so mad!”
Despite the melancholy grip on her heart, Delia smiled at the mention of the nickname for Advisor Winchell. “I do regret not being able to see that.”
A plasma lamp glowed beside the bed, reflected in the floor-to-ceiling windows of her chamber. Delia tried to imagine the panic from the earlier scene with the wedding dress fitting. “Was it bad?” she asked. “With Marta, I mean.”
“Mmm.” Shania swallowed, then smacked her lips a few times. “Marta was stabbing the floor with the needle over and over again. I thought Winnie was going to hit her with her cane for galaxy’s sake! Head of Security had to come.” She licked her fingertips before choosing another sweet. “Although, that Colonel Yashin is lovely to look at, so that was a nice consequence.”
“He’s twenty years older than you.”
Shania laughed. “Yes, and I hope my husband will be as handsome and strong when he’s that old.”
“And they had to take her away?”
Shania’s attention went back to the infoscreen. “Who? Winnie?”
“No,” Delia groaned impatiently. “Marta. Mother told me she was ruined. That she was permanently broken.” She imagined the lower level of the palace, the darkened storage area for items waiting to be shipped to the picking stations. Picturing Marta in her smart uniform and prim posture seemed cruel. Delia looked at her younger sister, hoping for some kind of reprieve.
Shania glanced up from the fashion shots. “Why do you even care?” she asked.
Delia tried to organize her thoughts; something didn’t make sense. When she spoke again there was a heaviness to her tone. “Even though she’s not real, it’s my fault she’s being thrown out. I need to be responsible.”
“Oh, really?” Shania laughed. “Did you fill up the ship you stole with plasma before you brought it back? Because that would have been responsible.”
“Funny,” Delia replied grimly.
Shania began typing words into the search field. Then her eyes widened and dimples appeared on her cheeks. “Prince Quinton is in the lead with the oddsmakers. And, may I add, he has perfect teeth.”
Delia marveled at how opposite she and her sister were. Shania was robust and vivacious, full of laughter. She delighted in wearing gowns and trying new styles of braids. “If only our positions were exchangeable, then I wouldn’t have reworked Marta’s SHEW,” she said. “And you’d be happily sneaking into Prince Quinton’s chamber.”
Shania squealed, unabashed. “I wonder if it’s in bad taste to swoon over my future brother-in-law.”
Reluctantly, Delia took in his image. Strong forehead, trimmed beard. “He has a kind face,” she said.
“I wonder if there are any digital snaps of him in swimming attire or … oh my,” she paused. “Someone works out.”
Delia huffed. “Yes, he’s gorgeous, I understand. Here,” she said, clearing the screen. “See if there’s mention of a bodyguard.”
“For Prince Quinton?”
“For all of them.”
“Oh! More men!” Shania said, typing quickly. Then her face darkened. “Nope. Nothing comes up. There’s only a profile on the princes, not their entourage. I’ll keep checking though, I know everyone has to be cleared with security.” She looked up at her sister. “Why are you interested in bodyguards? What is it? Your face has a weird expression.”
It’s classified.
An embarrassed blush warmed her cheeks. Why was she interested? “Honestly,” Delia said as she snatched the wedding crown off her younger sister’s head. “I’ll be your queen someday so you should get used to not asking me so many questions.”
Her pulse kicked up a beat. And not only that, she continued in her mind, he refused to answer me … twice! Chivalry was not a prerequisite for bodyguards, apparently.
Restless, she went to the long windows that lined the south wall of her chamber, giving her an uninterrupted view of the kingdom. Instead, Delia looked up at the night sky. “The man in the moon,” she whispered, thinking of the legend of her people and her own part in the legacy. It was her heritage, her birthright—her honor and her punishment. The price of having a childhood of opulence.
The moon shone down on her and with it she felt the judgment of her ancestors, as if they knew she secretly dreamed of a day when marriage would be for love and not duty. Her shoulders slumped. I should be braver, she thought.
Delia wrapped her long braid around her arm, then caressed her cheek with the end. The comforting gesture from her childhood did little to ease the guilt. An image of her mother’s tired expression needled at her conscience. Delia tried to remember the last time they had to put an android down … she couldn’t. Her mother was keeping something from her.
“I must find out the truth,” she said.
When she turned around, Shania was snoring, the infoscreen discarded on the pillow beside her. The image of Prince Quinton was frozen in a smile.
Being careful not to wake her sister, Delia picked up her own infoscreen and took the vertical transporter to the storage level. She knew she couldn’t involve the royal technicians. This was something she had to find out for herself.
With a palace full of royal suitors to appease and guard, there was no risk of bumping into security personnel down here. She slipped into the large containment area and followed the markings toward the android section.
As she turned the corner her heart almost stopped. There was Marta, her diligent and faithful maid, tilted back against the wall, already tagged for disposal. The unanimated pose to her face was unsettling. She had to remind herself Marta wasn’t real. Still, there was an absence of something that had nothing to do with circuits or plasma energy.
As she’d learned in android tech class, Delia pressed her finger against the square outline just below Marta’s right ear. She heard a click and opened the tiny compartment, exposing the SHEW.
With a quick look around to make sure she was still alone, Delia took the SHEW and inserted the tiny chip into her infoscreen. She accessed the program she’d designed to implant the glitch. Delia wasn’t sure what she would find, but she couldn’t help but feel that she was on the cusp of a major discovery.
As numbers cascaded down in patterns, Delia soon discovered nothing was wrong with Marta. The glitch she’d planted had expired, just like she’d programmed.
There was nothing wrong with Marta!
Frustrated, Delia pulled out the chip and slipped it into the pocket of her pilot’s uniform. Was her mother lying to her on purpose, or had she been given the wrong information? Then there was the issue with the pirates. If Delia hadn’t seen one with her own eyes today, she wouldn’t think they existed anymore—but the bodyguard had known.
She pictured him escaping on the glider—the Queen’s Guard glider!
A rush of anticipation made her slightly dizzy as she accessed another program on her infoscreen. As part of her training, Delia had to memorize everything about the Queen’s Guard. She’d found it tedious because she mostly wanted to learn how to sword fight, but at this moment she was extremely grateful for having remembered that every glider was equipped with a locating chip.
Delia entered her security clearance and started the sweep. If the glider was on Astor, it would show up. A map of her planet filled the screen. She knew the geography by heart. The large glaciers to the north cut rivers through the mountains; then the earth dipped past the tangled forests and then to the lowest section, where the mines used to be, which was now the Dark District. Beyond that was the canyon, and beyond that was the vast southern tundra.
Multiple dots filled the screen. Most of the gliders were in the landing bay, and a few were on the perimeter, nothing odd about that.
But when she used her finger to zoom in on a lone dot apart from the others, she discovered it wasn’t in the clearing where she’d last seen it.
“Gotcha.” She smiled, taking note of the coordinates at the edge of the Dark District. If the bodyguard wouldn’t come to her, she’d go to him.