I popped up in my bedroom – an oversized space that would probably be better described as a suite since it had two connecting rooms (not counting the bathroom). One of those was a sitting room; the other was a small library with built-in bookshelves, an easy chair, and a small end table. The bedroom itself was about three hundred square feet in size, which was far larger than anything I’d ever had before. Populated only by my bed, dresser, and nightstand, the room looked almost barren.
Needless to say, I hadn’t quite gotten used to having this much space, even though we’d been living here for several weeks now – almost from the moment my grandmother, Myshtal, and I had arrived. The modest house I’d previously occupied with my mother and grandfather had suddenly felt cramped with five people living there. (It had gone without saying, of course, that Myshtal would be staying with us.)
More to the point, my grandmother and Myshtal were royalty (although, technically, my mother and I were as well). They were used to living in opulence: mansions, chateaus, palaces, and the like. Even when she had been under house arrest on Caeles, my grandmother had basically lived in the lap of luxury.
That said, I’d initially had no doubt that my grandmother would be able to downsize. She had done so before (when she first came to Earth and married my grandfather), and presumably wouldn’t have an issue doing so again. Myshtal, on the other hand, had originally given me pause. I didn’t know how she’d react to having to live among the masses, without a bunch of servants at her beck and call.
I needn’t have worried, however. From the moment we set foot on Earth, my involuntary fiancée had made it clear that she was prepared to “rough it” to whatever extent necessary. (And from what I could read of her emotions, she was sincere in that regard.) So if that meant smaller beds (and bedrooms) than she was accustomed to, no servants, etcetera, then so be it.
Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. A few days after our arrival from Caeles (and after we’d suffered through trying to live together in close quarters), all five of us jointly decided to move to the Caelesian embassy. It marked a compromise in size between what Gramps, Mom, and I were comfortable with and what Indigo and Myshtal were accustomed to. Even more, it had accoutrements and affectations of Caelesian high society, which would probably go a long way towards making Myshtal feel at home.
The process of actually moving had taken perhaps a day and primarily consisted of me teleporting our household goods and belongings to the embassy. This also necessitated that I teleport much of the original furnishings (the bulk of which I considered outdated) into storage – including the Louis XIV-style furniture that had originally been in my bedroom. After that, it had taken perhaps another day to get settled in, but since then we’d all adjusted pretty well to our new home.
Looking around now, however, I spent a moment wondering if it had been a mistake to get rid of all the furniture that had been in my bedroom before. Without it, the place really did look and feel empty. Un-lived in, to be honest, and I found myself contemplating what I might use to fill the dead space. (Apparently it’s true what they say: nature abhors a vacuum.)
I was still picturing what I could do with my bedroom in terms of interior design when I felt someone mentally pinging me a minute later. Based on years of experience and familiarity, I automatically knew who it was: my grandfather.
Gramps was a telepath – at one time, the most powerful one on the planet. Although he had hung up his cape years ago, he still had formidable mental abilities. (He was also the primary person who had trained me in the use of my own telepathy.) Dropping my mental shields, I heard his voice ring out almost immediately in my brain.
<About time you showed up,> he admonished. <We’re starving.>
Mentally, I let out a chuckle. My grandfather’s statement referred to the fact that – since my return from Caeles – we tried to eat dinner together as a family every night. (It stood to reason; after all, our family unit had been broken up for decades.) Although humorous, and obviously an exaggeration, his comment about “starving” clearly conveyed that they had delayed eating supper for my benefit.
<Well?> he continued. <You coming, or do we need to head up to eat in your room?>
<Sorry,> I said sheepishly. <I’ll be there in a sec. What are we having?>
<Pizza,> he replied. <The women were out shopping all day and I had some things to take care of, so nobody cooked. Unless you whipped something up…>
The only thing I had whipped up was a nigh-fatal screw-up of an important mission, but I kept that little nugget to myself.
<Not this time,> I said. <I’ll put my culinary skills on display at a later date.>
<Great. I’ll hold you to that. Now get down here.>
Chapter 7
After quickly washing up, I headed downstairs to a small breakfast nook where we generally took our meals. There was actually a posh formal dining room on the premises, complete with a fireplace and chandelier, but we all found it to be too ceremonial. It was the kind of place that made me feel like all the men should be sporting monocles, and all the women should be wearing cage crinolines.
Everyone was already there when I arrived, sitting at a square-shaped, counter-height table that seated eight, and which currently had a couple of pizza boxes in the center. As had become typical for them, my grandparents were seated next to each other at what we had informally dubbed the “head” of the table. To their right were my mother and Myshtal; I took a seat to the left of my grandparents, giving me an entire side of the
