Vitality (Proximity #3)

CHAPTER 1

PALTA

Fear.

Absolute, blood-curdling, stomach-churning terror.

And not the kind that meant I was being shot at, blown up, or sapped of my consciousness. I suppose at least that was a plus.

It was the kind of terror that comes with being the center of attention. A panic that shivered up my spine and prickled my ears, all the way to their ridiculously pointy tips. A chill that paralyzed my legs, for all the world feeling like my feet were imbedded in concrete.

But my feet weren’t locked in stony cement. They were quite capable of moving freely, albeit rubbing blisters in these fancy-pants hand-beaded shoes (these Cinderella slipper-things that no one could even see…because they were buried under flowing layers of sumptuous silken fabric).

Now, don’t get me wrong…This dress was worth blistered heels. It was even worth the unsettling inability to take a deep breath, as the muted silver silk traced a path of perfect gathers around my torso…kind of Grecian-style, with a perfectly glistening puddle of silk at my feet.

Great, the perfect recipe for a face-plant on the charmingly uneven ancient stone floor.

If you asked me to describe my idea of a perfect dress, this would be it. If I saw it on the red carpet, I’d be duly impressed. I’d even consider trying it on in the privacy of my own home. But no-way, no-how, under any circumstances would you convince me to march into a massive atrium crammed to the gills with people.

Unless you were my irresistible husband.

As the sea of people parted to make way for me, I searched out Aeron’s face in the crowd. And there he stood, looking handsome and unruffled as ever—waiting for me in front of the graceful, gently trickling fountain (the carved-stone work of art that only weeks before had been shot full of holes). It had been skillfully mended, just in time to serve as the centerpiece of this momentous event.

The Royal Wedding.

Our wedding.

Of course, Aeron and I were technically already married. And as far as I was concerned, the haphazardly patched-together ceremony aboard a spaceship was all the fanfare I needed. Aeron concurred…He certainly wasn’t pushing for a big production. He was perfectly contented to go on about our lives, basking in the joy of marital bliss. Private marital bliss.

But the people of Onontí felt otherwise.

As word began to spread of our matrimony, it became increasingly apparent we weren’t going to get away without another ceremony. A public ceremony. A highly-televised, ultra-high-profile ceremony.

Would somebody kindly just shoot me now?

Under most circumstances, I would have turned and bolted for the door at the first suggestion of such madness. But Aeron’s sad, pitifully apologetic face as he broached the topic melted my social-phobic heart. Before I knew what I was doing, I agreed to it. Without even putting up much of a fight.

What in the holy hell was I thinking?

I stared ahead like a deer caught in the headlights…somewhere in the neighborhood of three thousand headlights, give or take. The room was filled to capacity—standing room only—and every one of those beady little eyes was trained on me.

Crap, crap, crappity, crap-crap.

Apparently when put under extreme pressure, low-grade profanity is all that comes to my mind.

I’d take a gunfight any day. At least the worst that could happen there would be death. But this…this offered up so many possibilities for complete and utter mortification, before I finally keeled over from the humiliation.

I jiggled my head back into rationality, searching out Aeron’s face once again. He was beaming. The goofy, star-struck grin only a groom can get away with while still looking manly. And then he winked, as if to say, "I owe you so big for this."

I relaxed just enough to give a little smile and nod, my message clear…You bet your ass you do.

My feet refused to budge, as I gripped my fingers firmly around the only thing keeping me from toppling over…the frail arm of my dear father. I turned to meet the eyes of the original man in my life. His health had recovered somewhat, though the circles under his eyes were still darkened by fatigue. It didn’t cast any shadow on his radiant smile, as he beamed with pure joy. I smiled in return, a sentimental tear welling up in my eye. With a deep breath, I loosened my vice grip on his arm, nodding that I was ready to get this over with.

I pushed my petrified foot forward, venturing forth with a shaky step. As my legs picked up speed, I focused my eyes on Aeron and made a beeline for his side. Sweet Father kept pace with me surprisingly well, proudly puffing out his chest with no concern for the magnitude of the crowd surrounding us. I tried with all my might to ignore the gazillion eyes burning into my skin. I glanced to the side once or twice, and I must admit they appeared to be kind eyes—even admiring eyes—not a hateful death-ray glare in the bunch.

Even worse. There’s nowhere to go but straight downhill in their regard.

As I approached Aeron, he reached out his hand to guide me to his side. I latched onto it like the life preserver that was saving me from a boiling pit of acid-laced oil. I met his eyes, the anxious wrinkle in my forehead surely visible from across the room…probably from across the solar system. (Even without the help of interplanetary, ultra-high-definition broadcasting.) Father bent forward to kiss my hand, giving me a playful wink, and slowly backed away—leaving us alone at center stage.

Aeron smiled a reassuring smile, subtly mouthing the words, Deep breath…You’re doing great.

I took a deep breath in—as deep as my dress would allow—and watched his face turn concerned as I froze mid-breath, forgetting to actually exhale.

He leaned gently forward, whispering into my ear, You have nothing to fear…Everyone in this room is thinking that you’re the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen.

I shot him a skeptical frown, catching a glimpse of the radiant beauty standing just a few feet behind his shoulder. His sister Ewenami was beaming with pure delight, as she gave me a meaningful nod. It was clear she had read Aeron’s mind and was trying to suggest that he was speaking the truth. After all, if anyone could corroborate what this bursting room was thinking, it was Ewenami. I had no doubts as to her mind-reading abilities. I did, however, question her honesty at this precise moment. Ewenami was as trustworthy as the day is long…but she would do whatever it took to console me from sheer terror. I appreciated the attempt to boost my self-esteem…but it wasn’t going to fly.

I turned to glance over my shoulder, searching for my sister, Sabela. She and my brother-in-law Dominick wore equally encouraging looks. Their carefully-preserved smiles made me feel that much more uncomfortable. It just didn’t seem like reality…Surely I was caught in some kind of bizarre dream.

It was only when Dominick shot me a momentary cringe—mouthing the words, "This is insane…", his eyes shifting a glance at the jam-packed crowd—only then did I finally muster a genuine smile. He snickered in return, peering over Sabela’s shoulder. She held her encouraging gaze, oblivious to Dominick’s antics.

I returned my attention to Aeron, filling my lungs with another tenuous breath, focusing in on the warmth of his hand as he gently squeezed mine. He waited patiently for my subtle nod of approval, and then signaled the presiding minister that we were ready to proceed.

I tried to maintain my focus, but all I was hearing was one continuous, monotone, blurred-together word. The longest word in the history of time. And as it finally came to an end, I realized with horror that this was my cue…It was my turn to speak.

There was only one thing I could have agreed to that would be more horrific than participating in this crazed wedding spectacle in the first place…Writing my own vows.

And, yep, I was just that stupid.

I’m not even sure whose idea it was to begin with, but Aeron seemed to think it was a brilliant plan…We’d already used the traditional Onontian vows once before, and it would be a nice way to mark this ceremony as its own special occasion—giving us the opportunity to speak from the heart, rather than reciting rote verses. In retrospect, it wasn’t a very solid argument…yet I caved like a spineless sap. Curse those damned incandescent green eyes. He would definitely owe me so-oh-oh-oh big for this.

And just my luck, the bride says her vows first.

Jolly good fun.

I gulped back the trembling fear, plagued by cotton mouth. I took one more calming breath, my sweaty palms desperately clinging to Aeron’s comforting hands. As I held my eyes on his, afraid to blink, I stammered the lines I’d rehearsed ad nauseam over the past few days. It wasn’t that I didn’t have anything remotely heartfelt and romantic to say to him…I just had zero desire to say it in front of billions of people.

With Sabela’s help, I’d composed some reasonably articulate sentences, in essence declaring my eternal love and devotion for the man I was now marrying for the second time. I’d marry him a hundred times, if that’s what it took to spend my life with him. Even so, it was all I could do to keep from cringing as I recited the vows that sounded so absurd now in my quivering words. I could barely hear my own voice, as the sound of my throbbing heartbeat rushed through my ears. I could feel every eye in the silent room upon me, boring a hole in my pulsating head. The only thing that kept me going was the look in Aeron’s eyes…They were filled with encouragement and adoration, as he gently stroked his thumbs against my hands. As I concluded my pathetic address, he squeezed my hands firmly with another adoring smile, bringing one of my hands up to place a sweet kiss upon my knuckles. I blew out a quiet sigh, relieved that at least the hardest part was over.

And then it was his turn to speak.

All I can say is…Thank God I went first.

Aeron’s voice was calm, smooth, self-assured—yet saturated with love and affection—as though he and I were the only people in the room. With his hands still firmly grasping mine, he spoke the words that would put mine to shame…and forever melt my heart:

I would surrender my life today,

if it meant you would live to see tomorrow.

I would part with my last morsel of bread,

so that you would never go hungry.

I would give up my last drop of water,

knowing your thirst would be quenched.

Take the breath from my lungs,

if you struggle for air.

Take the blood from my veins,

if you want for strength.

I offer up my sight, my hearing, my voice, my soul.

They are yours to use as you wish.

You will say you have no need for these offerings.

That you would never piece me apart

to serve your own purpose.

And try as I might to press

that life-sustaining morsel into your hand,

I know you would refuse it.

But there is one offering you cannot refuse.

One piece of me you must claim as your own.

I know this, because you already have.

My heart is yours, and always will be.

CHAPTER 2

The warm ocean breeze wafted in through the open bedroom windows, carrying with it the amazing blend of earthy musk, salty sea air, and delicate floral undertones that had become like a drug to me. I drew in a deep breath, snuggling in a little closer to Aeron’s side, as I wound my leg around his under the sheets.

It’s so perfect here, I filled my lungs with another fragrant breath, watching the ethereal curtains floating in the breeze. The sun was beginning to light the vibrant blue sky with shades of pink and orange, the sound of gentle waves crashing against the cliff walls far beneath us. Beyond the sloping green hillside lay an endless expanse of brilliant, sparkling blue water. I’m so glad you picked this room to be ours…It would be tragic to miss this view.

I’m glad you like it, he looped one arm around me, hugging me closer against his side. I thought it might be better than sleeping in my parents’ old chambers…but if you would prefer the best the palace has to offer, I’ll gladly relocate. This room is certainly much smaller…less opulent. I didn’t think you’d mind, but I probably shouldn’t have assumed.

I rested my chin against Aeron’s chest, looking up to meet his eyes. "You know I don’t need anything extravagant…and I can’t imagine the bed could be any more luxurious than this. Besides, why would I want to be stuck in the middle of the building, without a window in sight? Who would pick that over this?" I waved my hand toward the open windows, just as the curtains swelled with another gentle puff of wind.

There was a time when the room with the most beautiful view—and therefore the most accessible point of entry—was not the wisest place for the king and queen to sleep, he explained. I’m hoping that time has passed.

You and me both, I conceded with a tilt of my head. Man, this ‘king and queen’ business is going to take some getting used to…and possibly some occasional heavy drinking to drown out the insanity of it.

He chuckled with a kiss to the top of my head. I’ve never seen you drink a drop.

Yeah, I’ve just never seen the appeal of it, I shrugged, but my opinion might have to change…especially if the grandstand public appearances continue.

He brushed his lips against my hair, the smile evident in his voice. I promise I won’t leave you in the spotlight by yourself again…You can’t blame the people for wanting a close-up view of you in that dress. No doubt, they were wondering how I could be such a lucky bastard. It’s true… he caught sight of my rolling eyes, I’m sure the camera caught me salivating.

"You are so lucky you were already my husband…and an extraordinarily intelligent, selfless, thoughtful, poetic dreamboat, I tickled his calf with my toes, because I would never have endured public humiliation for Joe Schmuck." I glanced toward the satiny dress hanging from the wardrobe door, its hem smudged with rust-red powder—the dusty remnant of the symbolic Onontian barefoot-in-the-dirt wedding custom. As if the shoes weren’t rubbing blisters to begin with, the sand between the toes had sealed my fate. I had tried to live with the pain, but Aeron caught me wincing and pried the explanation from me. And that’s how I wound up spending the rest of the evening in Aeron’s socks.

You were amazing and perfect, he turned to face me, wrapping his arms around me. And I still can’t believe I’m the lucky Joe you married. So, Mrs. Schmuck…I owe you for one evening of social misery. Name your price.

Hmm… I put on a deeply pensive face. "You already made a very nice down-payment, I gave him a sly wink, but you’re right…You definitely still owe me."

He waited patiently while I pondered the idea, delicately tracing his finger along my collarbone.

Ooh! I bit my bottom lip with an excited grin, "We are going cliff jumping today…all day. My legs fidgeted in anticipation. Pack a picnic lunch…and dinner…because we ain’t coming home ‘til dark."

He let out a disappointed sigh, but I could see the smirk breaking across his lips. "It isn’t ‘cliff jumping’, Palta…You make it sound like a death wish. One you’re way too enthusiastic about."

I surveyed his eyes shrewdly, Correct me if I’m wrong, but we start out on a cliff…

Well, yes… he conceded.

"And then we jump… I continued logically. How is that not ‘cliff jumping’?"

He puffed out a breath of a laugh, shaking his head with a disapproving frown. It just sounds so extreme when you call it that…‘Ayé de aña’ somehow sounds more civilized.

Of course it does, I shrugged. Everything sounds more civilized in a foreign language…except maybe ‘Fahrvergnügen’.

‘Ayé de aña’ means ‘falling from the sky’, he reminded me with a chuckle.

Exactly…So how is that any different from ‘cliff jumping’?

He paused for a moment, contemplating the question. I don’t know, he blew out a defeated sigh. I suppose it sounds less like a deliberate act of self-endangerment…Somewhat accidental, rather than intentional.

"So accidentally falling from a cliff would somehow be better? I kidded. If you’ll recall, I’ve done that once before…and it wasn’t so pretty."

He winced at the mention of my long-ago moment of youthful stupidity. As long as you’re wearing your safety gear, he eyed me sternly, Then yes, falling would be preferable to jumping…At least you wouldn’t be so ‘balls to the wall’ about it. Your fascination with flouting basic self-preserving instincts astounds me.

Winston Churchill claimed he was talking about Russia when he said ‘it is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma’…but he was actually referring to me. Little known historical fact.

I don’t doubt it, Aeron shook his head with an amused chuckle. I should have known that you and Churchill were best buddies.

I never met the man, I shrugged nonchalantly, but I’m pretty sure he borrowed that quote from my father. Poor man still can’t quite figure out what’s going on inside this twisted head of mine.

Aeron broke off half-chuckle, his expression turning more serious. You’re not entirely kidding, are you? He studied my eyes carefully. Kencane really did know Churchill, didn’t he?

I reacted with a puzzled raise of my eyebrows. What about that surprises you? Don’t tell me you’re star-struck by Winston Churchill?

Well, he was a very powerful world leader, Aeron suggested. Apparently he was a little star-struck. For your father to have known him personally is a pretty big deal.

"Um…Do I need to remind you that you’re very literally a ‘world leader’? I pressed my eyebrows together in consternation. And my father calls you ‘Son’…I think that trumps having a brief correspondence relationship with the British Prime Minister. Come to think of it, I don’t think he was even Prime Minister at the time."

Aeron shook his head softly in disagreement, I fell ass-backwards into a position of power, Palta. Your father toiled through years of diligent work and unfailing integrity, rightfully earning his place at the right hand of the Onontian king. My father valued his friendship and counsel above all. To start over from scratch—on a foreign planet no less—and once again earn his way into the confidence of a respected world leader…It’s phenomenal. He blinked his eyes, lost in thoughtful admiration. Sometimes I think your father is far better suited for leadership than I am.

I won’t argue with the praise for my father…He deserves every bit of it, I pressed my palm against Aeron’s cheek, tilting his eyes to meet mine. And maybe you did fall ‘ass-backwards’ into a position of leadership…but nobody handed you the tools to carry it off. You’ve earned the respect and admiration of everyone in your path, I peered deeper into his troubled eyes. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

I don’t doubt that, he wrapped his arms firmly around me, tweaking my meaning. He rolled onto his back, pulling me to rest atop his chest. I’m precisely where I’m meant to be...where I want to be.

He was deliberately side-stepping my attempt to bolster his confidence, but how could I fault him for it, when he was giving me those doting eyes? I’d memorized every fleck and hue in their vividly green palette, yet I’d never get used to the way he could focus them on me with such intensity. I reached up to outline the arc of his brow with my fingertip, and he closed his lids with a contented sigh. He rested peacefully, his breath slow and even, while I traced the contours of his face with my fingers. As I brought my lips to his, he pulled in a deep breath, clutching his hands more tightly against the small of my back. The thought that I was kissing the king couldn’t have been farther from my mind. I was kissing my husband—the man of my dreams, love of my life—and the way he returned my kiss left no doubt that he felt the same for me. It felt perfect and safe, like no force in the universe would be strong enough to pull us apart.

We eventually made our way out of the bedroom, dressed and ready for a day of outdoor sports (totally awesome, over-the-top fun outdoor sports). Whatever Aeron wanted to call it, jumping off a cliff with an ever-so-slightly-controlled descent was nothing short of exhilarating…especially set against the backdrop of an awe-inspiring natural landscape. It did, however, fall short of brutally deadly…thanks to an amazing piece of technology known as a deceleration belt. Ayé de aña had quickly become my new favorite pastime.

We sat down to a glorious breakfast, served buffet-style in the dining room. Actually, it was hardly a mere room. It took me days to get used to the massive carved-wood table, situated in the middle of this medieval banquet hall—like something out of a Shakespearean feast. While those great halls always appeared to be so cold and dimly-lit, it was quite the contrary here…The sunlight flooded in through paneled-glass windows, many of them open onto the property grounds. The warm breeze flowed through the space, carrying with it the softly floral aroma of the surrounding gardens. I had learned the layout of the palace and grounds by now; but I was far from being desensitized to the perfection of it all.

I sat next to Aeron at the table, scooting my seat a little closer to his. It made it less overwhelmingly formal if I imagined we were sitting in a cafeteria dining hall, just a random couple taking our seats amongst the other diners. Thankfully, some other diners soon arrived to complete the illusion. Ewenami and Imai were the first on the scene, soon followed by Sabela and Dominick. They filled their plates, joining us at the end of the expansive table. I knew my father, being an early riser, had already eaten long before. We had passed him in one of the lengthy corridors, as he made his way with a book in hand to do some reading in the courtyard.

We had not yet come across Nangí, which was not unusual. He was never around for breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner, for that matter. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’d ever seen the man eat. It wasn’t too much of a surprise when his face was gaunt, eyes sunken, spindly fingers nothing but bones covered with fragile skin. But here lately—ever since the events of twenty-three days prior—surely he required more sustenance to keep up that much muscle tissue. When he drained Bito Obo to within an inch of his life—thus taking that vitality upon himself—it had clearly done more than just put a spring in his step. He was taller…much taller. His grungy robes no longer dragged the floor. Though his shoulders were clearly now too broad to fit them properly, he insisted on wearing the patched-together shreds of tattered fabric just as before.

His confounding attachment to those ridiculous robes was not the only part of Nangí that remained unchanged. Apart from his physical transformation, he was exactly the same. Same expressionless scowl, same dry sense of humor, same cryptic concealment of his true powers. Same curious compulsion to wander the halls from dawn to dusk. I