“Our apologies, N’d’go,” said Myshtal solemnly, emphasizing the Caelesian pronunciation of my grandmother’s name. “We meant no harm.”
My grandmother reached out and gently patted Myshtal’s hand. “It’s fine, my dear.” Then a crafty smile crept onto her face and she added, “To be honest, I wish there were someone to discharge me from the receiving line.”
We all got a laugh out of that.
“Anyway,” Indigo continued a moment later, “if anyone should ask” – she looked pointedly at me – “especially your grandfather, I gave you both a stern lecture about–”
My grandmother abruptly stopped speaking, as if she’d suddenly lost her voice. At the same time, I noticed a faraway look come into her eyes as she tilted her head slightly to the side, as if listening for music only she could hear.
Concerned, I focused my empathic senses on her and picked up the sensation of curiosity mixed with bewilderment. A second later, it was all overridden by a cavalcade of surprise, joy, and exuberance.
Practically beaming now, Indigo belted out, “Come on!” Reaching for us, she gripped my wrist in one hand and Myshtal’s in the other, and then took off – practically dragging us behind her.
“Wait…” I muttered, trying to get her attention. “Sxahnin…”
I was hoping to get an explanation of some sort for her behavior. Unfortunately, my words fell on deaf ears as my grandmother hastily pulled us towards the ballroom entrance, heedless of the people we inadvertently bumped into. She was clearly on a mission. Hoping to get an indication of what was so important, I looked in the direction we were headed.
At first, I didn’t see anything of note. The column of guests waiting to get through the receiving line stretched out the door, but there were lots of other people milling about as well: servers walking through with trays of refreshments, friends laughing merrily at each other’s jokes, visitors gawking in awe at the scale of the mansion, and so on. And then I saw him.
He appeared to be young – late twenties or early thirties – and was remarkably handsome. He was a few inches taller than my six-foot height (making me peg him at about six-three), and had dark hair that was combed back. Like just about all the other men present, he had on a tuxedo, but his seemed to fit and wear in a way that went beyond simply being tailor-made or handcrafted. It was like it was a part of him.
More than his physical appearance, however, was his presence. He had a panache you could sense even without empathic abilities, but at the same time exuded a sangfroid that was almost tangible. It was as though he brought his own atmosphere into the room with him, something that allowed him to radiate confidence without being overbearing, to appear poised while simultaneously relaxed. In short, he exuded an effortless cool that many attempt, but few actually achieve.
Around this time, my grandmother noticed him as well. Almost squealing in delight, she suddenly released Myshtal and me from her grip and then raced towards the stranger. Eager to see what the fuss was about, I followed quickly on her heels, with Myshtal doing much the same.
Seeing Indigo approach, the corners of the man’s mouth drew up into a dazzling smile. My grandmother virtually leaped into his arms, giving him a fierce hug that was probably only rivaled by the one she gave my grandfather after we returned to Earth.
After a few moments, Indigo and the young stranger separated, but still gripped each other by the forearms. They both then leaned forward, each grinning broadly, and placed their heads next to each other so that my grandmother’s right ear touched the newcomer’s left. It was then that I noticed something that had escaped my attention until now: the guy’s ears were pointed.
He’s Caelesian! I thought. A moment later, my brain started becoming frothy with questions. Who was this guy? Why was he here? Did Queen Dornoccia send him? Had the queen changed her mind about allowing my grandmother to return to Earth?
Those and a thousand other questions were racing through my mind when Indigo and the stranger drew their heads back, although still gripping each other’s forearms.
“You got my message!” my grandmother exclaimed excitedly.
“Of course,” the fellow replied in a sanguine tone that matched his demeanor. “Why do you think I’m here?”
“I’m sorry,” Indigo muttered, shaking her head. “I simply didn’t expect you to come yourself.”
The newcomer raised an eyebrow. “You expected me to entrust this to an underling?”
Before Indigo could respond, I coughed softly in an attention-getting manner. My grandmother turned to me, looking as if she’d forgotten where she was for a moment.
“Forgive me – I’ve been rude,” she declared, releasing her grip on the stranger’s arms. Waving a hand in my direction, she then said, “Please allow me to introduce my thrice-child, Prince J’h’dgo.” She then swung her hand towards the newcomer, saying, “J’h’dgo, this is my cousin, Prince Nobaxlin.”
“Cousin?” I mumbled, trying to hide my surprise.
“On the maternal side,” Indigo explained. “He’s the son of my mother’s brother. We practically grew up together.”
I frowned, trying to process this. Indigo’s mother had been Fleodin – a people who were of the same race as Caelesians but who maintained a separate (but equally powerful) interstellar empire. My grandmother had occasionally mentioned her maternal relatives, but personally I’d never given them much thought.
“So,” Nobaxlin droned, breaking in on my thoughts and flashing another smile as he looked me over. “This is the Prince Dranilac.”
“Excuse me?” I said, plainly a bit confused by the conversation. “Prince Landrax?”
“The Prince Dranilac,” my grandmother corrected before speaking to me telepathically. <It’s not a name, but rather a title that you have among my mother’s people – one of them, anyway. It loosely translates as “Sovereign Supreme,” but don’t let it go to your head – all Fleodin titles are along the lines of
