Imperial Masquerade (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 11) Page 2

  Minka's heart began to race. Her blood pounded in her veins. It was the call of the eagle. A song, both melodious and threatening, but welcome to her ears. As quickly as the old woman could stand, she regained her feet and hurried to the window.

  "It must be him," Minka whispered under her breath, certain her prayers had already been answered. The window was tight, and the glass threatened to crack as she forced it open with all of her strength. "Where are you? Show yourself to me," she begged, and searched the gray, stormy skies for the black wings. Rain fell upon her skin like her own tears, as she spied the raptor circling high above village.

  He rode upon the waves of turbulent air, his voice crying out to all of Shrotru. Yet, even as she saw him, Minka's heart filled with disappointment. As beautiful as he was, this eagle was brown. The Great Black Eagle, the one inscribed in Karukan's books had been missing from the skies of Karupatani and all of the Empire for more than two years.

  Minka made to shut her window. She knew she had been foolish and because of this might catch her death of a cold. Her simple prayer could and would not change the course of time. An old woman's wish was not enough to save her people.

  However, the window was stuck again, and as she pulled it something came loose. It fluttered gracefully down from eaves, flitting upon the wind which practically carried it right into Minka's hand. The old woman gasped and once again fell to her knees, this time certain she was witnessing the inconvertible truth. He was back. He had returned. The long wide flight feather in her hand was black, while the tip, a shining white in the pattern of an eye.

  Chapter 2

  Trudy looked at her watch. As she had suspected, the bus was late, a full ten minutes. Were it not for the incessant rain, she would have considered walking to work as the SdK Corporate campus was only a little more than two miles away. However, her shoes and nylons were already completely soaked through, and her auburn hair was a mass of frizzy curls despite her efforts with the flat iron that morning.

  "I'm too vain," Trudy cursed herself, pacing the short distance of the bus shelter. If she weren't, surely she would have heeded the warnings of the dark, overcast sky and worn slacks with boots, along with a raincoat and a hood. Instead, she opted for impractical patent leather pumps, a narrow black skirt just long enough to meet the corporate dress code, and a white cashmere sweater set.

  "Somehow, the busses are only late on days like today," the guy sharing the shelter remarked.

  Trudy glanced over, quickly appraising him as stocky, mid-thirties, probably Mishnese or Rozarian with a prominent bald spot, and clearly well below her on the social strata. Not that Trudy was so special, mind you. Two years ago, she would never have been so presumptuous as to thumb her nose at a perfectly decent and respectable fellow. Before Rent, she would have been ecstatic if this guy dared to suggest they grab a cup of coffee, each paying for themselves, of course.

  Now, Trudy was unofficially and secretly the Imperial Prince Revak's, or Rent, as he was known around the office, main squeeze. Well, that was a crude way of putting it. Trudy was the Imperial Girlfriend, not yet fiancé, no matter how hard she pushed.

  "Give it a rest, Trudy," Rent had snapped just the other night when she had hinted about upgrading her status yet again.

  They were in his condo in Old Mishnah, a second story walk-up in a renovated brick building. Trudy loved the classic architecture, gabled doorways, and detailed wainscoting. The view of the new city at night was outstanding. The only thing she didn't like was the ugly brown shag carpet, a relic of the previous owner which Rent hadn't seen any need to replace. Periodically, the owner of the condo below would pound on the ceiling with a broomstick handle or ring up and complain that they were making too much noise.

  "If I change the rug, he's really going to get pissed off," Rent explained. "At least this carpet does something to buffer the noise."

  If they got engaged, Trudy decided, that would be the only thing she changed. Maybe, she'd have cork floors installed as they were supposed to be quiet and environmentally friendly. Actually, she'd also update the appliances in the tiny kitchen, maybe add granite countertops both there and the bathroom, and probably she'd order a new bed as Rent had gone cheap and kept the previous owner's leftover queen.

  Trudy hated that bed. It smelled vaguely of something and sagged on her side just at the point where it irritated her back. Rent wasn't bothered by it at all, although he was mildly sympathetic to her complaints by offering to switch sides whenever she stayed the night. Most of the time she clambered back out and went home to her own rented apartment in New Mishnah while Rent went back to his real flat in the Palace.

  That was another thing which bugged Trudy. Even though they had been dating for more than two years, not once had he invited her back to the Palace.

  "Things are too crazy there right now," he always said. "Everything's kind of in limbo while we figure out what's going to happen. As soon as everything calms down, you'll be the first person I bring there."

  "Sure," Trudy compliantly mumbled, knowing full well that neither Rent nor anybody else knew when that would be.

  Despite all the uncertainty in Rent's life, Trudy didn't see why they couldn't advance their relationship further. She was pretty certain he wasn't seeing anyone else. That kind of gossip would be broadcast all over the vid. It wasn't like they were getting any younger either. Frankly, in her opinion and most everyone else in the Empire, she imagined, it was more important than ever for the Prince to settle down and start a family. Trudy figured she was the best person for that job, absent any princess who might appear on the scene.

  While lying uncomfortably in that sagging, smelly bed, Rent relaxed in a state of post-coital bliss, Trudy decided to press him once again in regard to the future. Turning to Rent, she said something along the lines of, “What do you think about me moving in?”

  "Where?" Rent had replied, distracted by the football game projecting on the overhead vid.

  Rent loved to watch the Mishnese Ravens even though they always lost. It had been his dad's favorite team which meant they were Imperially Blessed, although that didn’t seem to improve their performance. That wasn’t the only reason Rent liked them. Actually, Rent wasn't entirely sure why he did. Suffice it to say, he was decidedly attached to them, perhaps even more so than he was to Trudy.

  Rent commiserated with losers. He knew how it felt to come from behind. He also understood completely what it was like to have missed that perfect pass, dropped the ball only inches from the goal, or be sacked behind the line. In some ways, Rent felt his whole life was like a Wide Receiver out in the open calling, “I'm here. Pass it to me!” only to have the ball ripped from his outstretched fingers, or alternatively, to find himself pummeled to the ground by the biggest guy on the team.

  When Trudy was a loser, when her hair was a dull mousy brown, and her face half covered by giant, unneeded glasses, he found her surprisingly more attractive. Now that she was beautiful, her eyes like limpid pools, her auburn hair thick and glossy luscious locks, Rent realized her presence was somewhat annoying.

  "Here," Trudy snapped, disturbing Rent’s concentration right when it was third down and inches.

  “Just a minute.” He waved her away, causing Trudy to cross her arms over her voluptuous chest, and pout in a manner only she thought cute. Rent ignored her completely, instead swearing profusely at the screen as the Raven’s Quarterback fumbled and lost a dozen yards. “What in the hell did he think he was doing? The guy is a bleeding idiot! Kari-fa! What was it you wanted, Trudy?”

  By now, poor Trudy had her face buried in the pillow, hiding her tears from his gaze.

  “Nothing,” she mumbled and pretended to sleep.

  “Okay. Hey, if you decide to get up, can you grab me a beer?"

  "Look, there it is now." Trudy’s attention was drawn back to the present by the rotund fellow bus passenger pointing at the sky. The green and yellow form of a municipal New Mishnah commuter was just now breaking thr
ough the dark clouds and heading toward their stop. As the bus halted and hovered for loading, the guy waited politely for Trudy to board first. Fumbling toward the rear, he then followed Trudy to the last unoccupied bench, and asked if he might join her.

  "Sure," Trudy grumbled, picking at the wet stockings on her legs. Slipping out of her sodden shoes, she examined her toes. Her nails were painted a deep, blood red while her fingernails were a pale corporate pink. Rent never noticed her beauty preparations, or if he did, he never bothered to remark.

  Actually, come to think of it, he did see her toes a few days ago. His response, a distracted, absent-minded query regarding whether or not her feet were bleeding.

  "I'm Kell." Trudy's seatmate turned and offered his hand. "Thanks for letting me sit here, and may I say your toes are exceptionally lovely?"

  "Exceptionally?" Trudy sniffed and turned her back to the guy as she was in no mood to chat with a stranger.

  Frankly, she didn't feel like going to work, or leading the meeting scheduled for today. She knew her PowerPoint presentation was lacking, but she was far too irritable to attempt to make it better. Instead, she considered what might happen if she just upped and quit.

  If Rent would marry me, she thought. I could be an Imperial Princess. I could stay home and have Imperial Babies.

  Actually, Trudy wouldn’t really like that. She had never been particularly fond of children, and birthing them would be a total drag. However, if they lived in the Palace, she could leave always them with the staff.

  Instead of reconciling ledgers and posting debits to accounts, Trudy would spend her days shopping or visiting the sick. She'd cut ribbons on ships and host luncheons with nobility, dressed in new gowns that would cost more than she made in a year.

  How to get Rent to commit, though? How might she turn his evasive 'Later' into 'Now'?

  "So, you work at SdK right?" Kell, her seatmate, prodded, interrupting Trudy's thoughts of Imperial Life. "You're in Aerospace Accounting, Building 40-48C?"

  "Yes." Trudy turned, a thought popping into her head. Maybe, all Rent needed was a challenge? A little competition might get him off the stick. Potentially losing her might prompt him to come from behind and win. "I'm Trudy. Sorry, have we met before?"

  "Kell," Kell repeated. "Aerospace Contract Management. I'm in the same building, just one floor below. I've seen you waiting in line at the cafeteria."

  Trudy extended her hand to which Kell first admired the corporate pink fingernail glaze before shaking it with the appropriate amount of firmness. By the time the bus pulled up in front of the SdK Corporate gates, Trudy and Kell had each updated their calendar to reflect a noon lunch date in the cafeteria.

  Chapter 3

  "The Crown Princess Angelica Korelesk of Cyganus is competing in that game show on the vid. You know, the one that takes place on that island?"

  "Sure," Ren replied, glancing through the refrigerator. "They'll probably throw her off for being too fat. She'd eat up all their food supplies and then every wild beast remaining in the forest."

  Ste laughed while stuffing nearly an entire pizza into his mouth. Fortunately, Ren-Ste was still a teenager with an ultrafast metabolism, otherwise, with all they consumed, they'd be clocking in at around four hundred pounds.

  Ber turned his attention back to the vid where he watched his mother struggle to climb a woven hemp ladder dangling from a treehouse while the sounds of some large and ferocious animal growled just off camera. Kie glanced up only briefly from their chem homework. He made a snorting acknowledgement sound and then, with his arm, knocked Ber on the side of the head.

  "Physics homework? Sometime today?"

  "Right," Ber said with a sigh. "When this is over. Oh, look! The thing, the beast just grabbed her pants." Both heads instinctively covered their eyes at the risk of seeing their terrified mother's now fully exposed buttocks.

  "Ew," Ren-Ste said in stereo. "Sorry, dudes."

  That guy, the one who hosted the show and looked like the Imperial Princes, then announced the point score for the episode and all the contestants convened to vote someone off.

  “Do we have to watch this?” Kie grumbled, as Ren-Ste shuffled back to their room.

  “Chill! Let’s just see if she gets bounced.” Ber turned his focus back to the vid while Kie, his adjacent head, shook slightly and resumed his chemistry computation.

  Ber-Kie were attending the Beckwadian School for Boys, even though they were only half-Beckwads. Their mother, Angelica Korelesk, a half Cyganian, half Rehnorian princess somehow got herself knocked up by a Beckwad popstar five years prior at the age of fifteen. The boys didn’t know exactly which popstar was their dad, as she refused to reveal his name, no matter how hard they pressed her.

  Frankly, any conversation with Angelica was extremely short, as she had no interest in them. Were it not for the press, which found the whole situation incredibly amusing, the boys would have had no clue of their origins.

  Unfortunately, their elusive sire had no interest in them either. He, too, had failed to step forward and reveal himself. The boys rationalized his irresponsibility by the threat of child support payments, assuming their upkeep was too much for his budget.

  Since their earliest memory, Ber-Kie had resided at said school, along with a host of other unwanted, yet privileged Beckwad and Bagmagian males.

  Bagmagians, nearly identical to Beckwads, although hailing from the neighboring planet, also bore two heads and matured at the amazingly rapid rate of five years to an equivalent one Rehnorian year.

  Ber-Kie were now teenagers, and in less than one year’s time, would effectively be older than their mother. At that point, they’d be graduated and sent off into the world in search of both gainful employment, and a reason for their existence.

  Kie wanted to be an engineer and was already refining a résumé with which they might approach SdK Aerospace. Ber, on the other head, would have much preferred the arts or music as a career choice. He believed they had inherited their absent father’s talent for combining poetry with melodious tones, and that, along with their devilish good looks would reap billions.

  This was a tremendous predicament for the boys as one could simply not go off and pursue something without the accompaniment of the other. Breaking up the conjoined body was also not an option, as they shared every organ, excepting those above the neck.

  While Kie had researched the possibility of an android body upon which his head might be relocated to, Ber was firmly against this. There was no guarantee such an operation would be successful. Even if it did, and he remained the single head on board, he’d be stuck with a massively wide body clearly intended for two.

  Having no alternative but to stick it out, at least until the end of the school term, the boys resolved to visit their great grandmother, Luci, Dowager Duchess of Korelesk. They would explain their dilemma, and request her council. If she advised the Dome-ectomy, they would then appeal to her for financing in order to pay for the venture.

  As it turned out, Angelica was granted a reprieve. The glimpse of her corpulent backside on Intergalactic Prime Time scored a ratings victory for the show that night. She was invited back the following week, her challenge level advancing an entire degree.

  “Oh no,” Kie groaned, for undoubtedly, Ber would insist that they watch it again.

  Kie considered requiring Ber to sit through an episode of ‘Understanding your Inner Universe’ as retribution. Next week’s feature was entitled, ‘Know your Ribosomes’. Kie had marked it as highly important in his calendar, superseding even ‘Dr. Who,’ which had been his very favorite show up until now.

  “You dudes going to the school dance tomorrow night?” Ren-Ste reemerged from the dorm room down the hall.

  The boys shared a communal kitchenette and living area with two additional pairs who spent the bulk of their time in the school library.

  Ren-Ste were Ber-Kie’s best friends having roomed here at the school together most of their short lives. They were a
lso named for the two Imperial Princes whom their mother idolized and watched incessantly every moment they appeared on the vid. Had the Princes been born two headed, sharing one body instead of their separate forms, she might have turned her infatuation into a stalking marathon. As it was, she found them more interesting than her own kids.

  “I’m not into dancing,” Kie replied, lost in an equation of ionic reaction.

  “Me either,” Ber agreed although he enjoyed listening to the music.

  There just wasn’t a girl at the neighboring Beckwadian Academy for Young Ladies, who interested him. In truth, Ber’s shared heart was stuck on a girl as firmly as Ren-Ste’s mom was stuck on the Princes. When Ber slept at night, the girl that invaded his dreams was none other than the Imperial Princess, Sara de Kudisha.

  At fourteen, Sara was just now blossoming like a proverbial rose, her beauty as delicate as the finest bone china. The fact that she had only one head was just an inconsequential and minor annoyance to Ber.

  In fact, this might actually be a good thing, as it left her one set of lips exclusively for him. As to how they would manage to consummate their attraction, for Ber was convinced it would be mutual as soon as they met, he had thought the process through during the dark, lonely hours of the night. His father had obviously figured out something and made it work. Of course, according to the tabloids, there had been a serious amount of alcohol and/or mind altering drugs involved.

  At any rate, what mattered to Ber was true love, and he was certain he would find that with Sara. This was another reason he was anxious for the end of the school term, and that upcoming visit with Great-Grandma Luci.

  Luci, to her credit, had been surprisingly lucid these last few years. Her delusional symptoms had stabilized and for the most part, she was off the meds. She was now residing at home, at her ducal estate in Korelesk, along with her sole remaining son, Duke Petya and his family.