A week later, Lark thought she was beginning to understand Joshua better. His head was so wrapped up in his equations and puzzles that he often came across as cold and unfeeling. He reminded her so much of Alex, it kind of hurt. That single-minded dedication to their interests balanced by a warmness only a few were privileged to experience. The Cynbels all had vastly different interests and strengths, but they were a tight-knit family and deeply respected each other. When Harold and Conan were around, Joshua visibly relaxed. He even smiled, laughed, and joked around.

Joshua had a lot of responsibilities for a twenty-one-year-old. He had inherited Dr. Franklin’s positions as head of the Science Department and advisor to the throne. They were renowned across all four planets as unrivaled geniuses.

Evren had four extra months in the year, which meant even though he, Conan, and Shamira were close to her age in number–twenty-three and twenty-one, respectively–they would be closer to thirty on Earth.

Lark got the feeling Joshua had even less experience making friends than she did. But she was really starting to want to count him as one. And even though the nostalgic feeling was nice, she didn’t want him as a friend just because he reminded her of her oldest brother. It was awkward when he never seemed to relax around her.

Considering she and Joshua spent all day, every day together, it would be nice to relax out of teacher/student–or even worse–princess/subject personas. She didn’t want to feel like a test tube. She wanted to feel safe from herself. She wanted a friend to walk with her through this.

Right now, they were going over the different capabilities of her bracelet, which had been fixed and reinforced so she didn’t short it out again.

“You can get a VPhone for personal use, but your bracelet has phone and holographic capabilities,” Joshua said.

“Very cool!”

“Put your thumb on the tiger’s head, and it will bring up a menu,” Joshua instructed.

She eagerly rested her finger on her wrist. After a couple seconds, a black, pixelated box floated above her arm, filled with white words: Vo-Call, Vid-Call, Text, Maps, Emergency Signal. She scrolled down. The list went on and on.

“You can have the voice audible for everyone, but there’s also a setting where the sound vibrations come only to your ear.”

“Ah, is that private mode?” Lark asked, still playing with the bracelet menu.

“Yes,” Joshua said. “It will also pick up your voice from the barest whisper.”

“Hmm.” She started looking for a contacts list to try calling Shamira.

“Oh, I also added my particle program,” Joshua said nonchalantly.

She shut down her bracelet to gawk at Joshua. “What?”

“You seemed interested. I thought you would enjoy taking a look at it.” Joshua shrugged.

“Yes, thank you!” Lark hoped she didn’t look too eager. She had kept her time travel questions to a minimum the last week.

As Joshua began explaining how it worked, there was a knock at the door.

“It’s unlocked,” Joshua called.

Shamira poked her head in. “Are you guys at a good stopping point? It’s almost lunch time, and I promised to braid Lark’s hair today.”

Lark jumped up before remembering to ask Joshua, “Are we good?”

“Certainly, your highness. Enjoy your lunch. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Lark joined Shamira in the hall. Shamira held up a large bag emitting wonderful smells and grinned.

“I’ve got noodles and cheese with chicken,” she said proudly.

“Let’s go!” Lark said, dragging Shamira to her room.

Joshua tapped his desk rhythmically, deep in thought. His whole career, he had focused on the science, the puzzles. Now that he was paying attention to the consequences of his research, he wasn’t sure who to trust. Time travel and the bio-bots alone made Lothar a dangerous power. The more Joshua observed King Avi, the more he was convinced he was hiding something. He had his guesses, but nothing concrete yet.

As for the princess, she was smart and eager to learn. Certainly as imperfect a human as the rest of them, but so far, she had the makings of an excellent leader. Now Joshua wanted to know if she would be a queen he was willing to lend his powerful mind to.

He eyed his tablet.

“Okay, princess. What will you do?”

Shamira swallowed her mouthful of food as they sat in Lark’s study. “What did this used to be called?” she asked.

“We called this macaroni and cheese.” Lark shoveled a huge bite of the cheesy goodness into her mouth.

“Hmm. Now it’s called noodles and cheese.” Shamira shrugged.

Once they were full, Lark led the way to her bedroom. Her vanity already had a brush, comb, rubber bands, and bobby pins.

“I wasn’t exactly sure what we needed.” Lark glanced nervously at everything she had set out.

“This is fine,” Shamira assured her. “Go ahead and sit. I’ll do you first, then you can practice on me.”

“Thank you!” Lark flashed her bright smile.

“You have such soft, fine hair,” Shamira said as she ran the brush through Lark’s dark tresses.

“It’s always been thin and straight.” She frowned. “I wanted wavy hair growing up. Like yours.” She eyed Shamira’s relaxed waves with envy.

“There are pros and cons to each.” Shamira chuckled.

As Shamira continued to work, Lark’s face got happy and serene. Her eyes even started drooping. Shamira grinned to herself. She knew how relaxing it could be to have someone play with your hair.

“How are you so good at this?” Lark asked in a sleepy voice.

“I have younger sisters, all with long hair,” Sharmia answered. “Our parents both worked long hours, so I took care of my siblings growing up.”

“You do have a very comfortable, big-sis vibe,” Lark said, eyes still closed.

Shamira’s heart clenched a little. Lark was sweet, and hardly helpless, but did seem a little lost at times. It brought out Shamira’s protective instincts.

“All right,” she said, tying off the end of the braid. “Here you go.”

Shamira chuckled as Lark shook her head, letting the braid fwip around her shoulders.

“Your turn!” Shamira nudged Lark out of the chair and sat down herself.

Lark’s eyes got big for a second, but then she looked determined, grabbed a brush, and stationed herself behind Shamira.

“Okay,” Lark breathed, brush poised. “How do I do this again?”

Shamira laughed.

“I’m sorry!” Lark chuckled. “I just realized I didn’t pay much attention when you did my hair. It was so relaxing, I was practically falling asleep.”

Shamira walked her through the beginning steps of a French braid. Once Lark seemed comfortable with the steps, Shamira let herself relax into the rhythm.

“This is fun,” she said. “I don’t often get my hair played with. I’m always taking care of my younger sisters’.”

“Well, this is my first time doing this for anyone.” Lark sounded a little embarrassed. “And I’m afraid this first attempt is coming out rather abysmally.”

Shamira laughed. “Don’t worry about it. The first few are always a little rough.”

“I’m glad you’re not expecting perfection.” Lark made funny faces at her braid attempts. “But I agree, this is pretty fun.”

“Did your brothers never do your hair when you were younger?” Shamira asked.

They locked eyes in the mirror before Lark looked away.

“They tried for a bit.” Lark smiled. “But it was a lot easier to just throw my hair in a ponytail or bun, so we all got a little lazy. When you were doing my hair, it reminded me of what it felt like when my mom did it.” Lark studiously avoided Shamira’s eyes, focused instead on what her hands were doing.

“When did you lose her?” Shamira asked softly.

“When I was ten.” Lark’s voice was tight.

“What about your fa–”

“The same time.” Lark’s voice was now hard and angry.

Shamira didn’t know much about Lark’s past, except she had two older, military-affiliated brothers as the family she grew up with. Their parents didn’t seem to be a big part of the picture. But if the emotions warring with each other on her face were any indication, it was a lot more complicated than that.

“I’m sorry.” Shamira wasn’t sure what else to say. Her parents were busy, but at least they were both alive.

Lark seemed to shake off whatever she was thinking about. “Okay, there is no way you can leave with your hair like this!” She held up a rough braid that was already falling apart. “This is embarrassing.” She mumbled, undoing her work.

“Don’t be embarrassed. You just need practice. Everyone starts as a beginner. We still have time if you want to try again. Otherwise, I’ll just pull it back.”

“If you’re okay with it, I’d like to attempt it one more time today.” Lark looked stubborn.

Shamira smiled and handed her the brush.