“Come here,” I said to him. 

He stood before me as I sat on the couch. He said, “I’ve never been a King’s Steward.” I loosened the button at his throat and rolled up the cuffs of his top. He looked more casual. 

“That’s better,” I said. 

He looked into my eyes and asked, “Is there a job description?” 

“No,” I said. “It’s too simple for that. You let me know what’s going on, help me with the little things, and keep me company. Relax. You’ll be fine.” 

I stood and smoothed the shoulders of his jacket. My node chimed and I inclined my head toward it as a prompt. Bermesh turned and leaped to the node, tapping it on, and sitting. He turned to me with his first official report.

“The Generals have called you to Tristow Command,” he said. “The harvesting of the planets is set to commence.” 

I smiled encouragement and gave his back a pat. “You did well,” I said. “Let’s go to the Tristow.” 

In Command, I pulled Bermesh from behind me and held him forward. I said, “This is Bermesh. He is my Steward. Please make him feel welcome.” The Generals nodded. I stepped forward, pulling my Steward with me. “Alright,” I said. “Catch us up.” 

General Karnac extended an arm up to the screen and said, “We have two shuttles positioned over this small orb. Operation Planet Esthos begins at your command.” 

I asked, “What are we doing, exactly?” 

“Shuttle one,” answered Karnac, “will lower a vacuum tube to extract standing fluids, while suited angels rappel down to harvest the growth. The first three will determine how many workers can be grouped in a work detail.”

Cedetra spoke. “Shuttle two will siphon gases for analysis and repurposing.” 

“Let’s start,” I said. 

We watched quietly as the vacuum and siphon tubes lowered. Next, three suited angels jetted to the surface of the orb, trailing their lines. It all seemed slow and boring. I turned to look around Command, at the stations manned by silent and efficient workers. I gave Bermesh another pat on the back, smiled, and turned back to the screen, mustering my small reserve of patience. Eesho stepped beside me and spoke in a restrained voice. 

He said, “We have five choices for the clothier, Your Majesty.” 

I answered, “Forward their names to my node, and I’ll have my Steward sort things out.” 

Chisisi turned and asked, “Have you plans for the event?” 

I knew their hesitancy. Yet, they were trying so hard to be open. I smiled. “No,” I said. “I need to speak with Imabelai.” 

The awkward exchange ended abruptly; we turned back to the screen. At last, there was some action on the surface. The three angels walked carefully about, stooping to collect samples. There was obviously a small attraction from the orb, as the movement of the angels did not send them drifting away. A motion caught our eyes; something green flew between green and green. My first thought was an insect, my second was a bird. 

I said to the Generals, “You didn’t tell me there was fauna on the orbs.” 

Cedetra spoke for the Generals. “Strange,” he said. “Our scans found only plant life.”  

I said, “I’ll want living samples for the Seed Ship.” 

Just then, my heart stopped. All of us froze in place for a moment as the surface of the small green orb rose up and swallowed one of the angels. The surface sank with the angel; the others were being dragged in, and the shuttle was being pulled down. The Generals barked orders, both to Command stations and to shuttle pilots. 

I did not think; I shifted. The green muck swallowed me, but I had my hand on the angel’s line. My sight gave me a nightmarish image of a fanged worm, its hooked tongues ripping the fabric of the angel’s suit. I was holding my breath as I shifted forward along the line, past the angel, and into the maw of the worm. I took large teeth in my hands as I searched my memories for father’s offensive abilities. I did not see the flash with my eyes; they were closed. I felt the explosive report as pressure on my ears. 

My heart was beginning to beat painfully as I shifted to the angel and pulled him free. His tether drew us from the green death; I gasped, not caring that the air was so foul. Two angels took the third from my hands as the shuttle made good distance from the orb. I shifted back to Command and fell to my knees. As I coughed and gagged, Cedetra knelt by me, pounding my back unnecessarily. I raised a hand and waved the General away. 

I heard Chisisi call loudly, “Medics to Command! The King is down!” 

“Stop!” I called. “I’ll be fine.” My voice was ragged but I managed.  

Karnac took my shoulders and sat me down, all but growling in my face. “When you pull stupid stunts like that; seriously! You make me fear for my own life.” 

Eesho echoed the sentiment. “My heart nearly stopped.” 

43S7 and Imabelai raced from the transport tree in Command. They laid me on my back as I continued to cough. I heard the surprised hails as the Generals addressed Imabelai. 

“Your Majesty,” they said. 

Imabelai knelt over me and wiped green worm stuff from my face. 43S7 placed a device on my forehead. “Will you never learn?” he asked in complaint. 

I rolled my head and spied Bermesh standing apart, wringing his hands. I looked into Imabelai’s eyes and saw her anger. I was pulled to my feet, and 43S7 pronounced me fit. 

“You’re fine,” he said, “but you reek.” I looked at 43S7 and could not see a nose. 

Imabelai took my arm and announced, “I’ll take care of this.” She pulled me into the tree and took me to her cabin, where she all but shoved me into the water closet. She demanded indignantly, “Get in there. Wash everything. Gods!” 

I still had a small cough as I sat on her bed with my waist wrapped in a towel. I listened to Imabelai fuss as she scrubbed the water closet. She did not sound happy. 

“Are you always like this?” she asked from inside the water closet. Then, she stuck out her head to ask emphatically, “And you want me to be Queen? Queen to who, a dead King?” I had no answer. She stepped from the water closet with a shudder and wiped her hands vigorously. She tossed the towel and sat beside me with an annoyed huff. Then, she turned to me and narrowed her eyes. “So, what?” she asked. “Queen of the Esthos and then widow?” 

I opened my mouth but found no words. She shook her head, warning me it was not my time to speak. I shut my mouth. “When I heard,” she said, “I was so scared. You care for others, but do you care for me?” She had no intention of letting me answer, but said, “If you did, you wouldn’t make me a widow before I’m even wed.” 

Imabelai turned and punched my arm, then covered her face with her hands and leaned over her knees; she was trying hard not to cry. Of course, she had a point. 43S7 had a point. They all had a point. I acted without thinking things through. I wrapped my sore arm around my Queen and drew her to me. She laid her head on my shoulder and sniffed. 

Softly, she said, “Tell me you plan to grow up.” 

Not even a King is above the heart. Love is negotiation. I spent earnest turns in the attempt to comfort and assure Imabelai. I wanted to argue my case; I had power, why should I be shackled? But I dared not. I feared I might drive my Queen further from me. I learned that love is a test. Pass the test of love, and the reward is love. I had never before thought so much about what love is, what it is to me. By the time I left Imabelai, I had a headache and a clear understanding of love. Love is deliberate and focused sacrifice. 

Bermesh jumped from the seat in front of my node. Appearing suddenly in my apartment frightened him, yet his wide eyes and clasped hands told a story that went beyond my sudden appearance. I walked to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

I said, “Bermesh, if I have troubled you, I apologize.” I tried to smile but ended up massaging my eyes. I told my Steward, “Hold my calls. I need to lay down.” 

I slept and awakened in a brighter mood. Bermesh was gone when I walked to my node and seated myself. My calls had been ordered and annotated. The reports had been set aside under headers. I was right to choose Bermesh. I licked my dry lips and thought to get some water when Bermesh entered with a smile and a tray. 

“Your Majesty,” said Bermesh. “I brought you a light meal, tea, and water.” He set the tray in front of me. “Please refresh yourself.” 

I drank water and sampled a tart tea. Biting into a fresh mushroom, I looked up at my expectant Steward. I said, “This is nice. Thank you, Bermesh.”  Bermesh smiled proudly and stood tall. I noticed that when his spirit was high, his tail whipped about. 

He said, “43S7 has finished moving to his new apartment. I am moving in. Please call me if you require anything.” 

I answered happily, “I will.” 

I finished the mushroom and smiled; I really liked Bermesh. I ate with joy and set the tray aside. I checked scheduling and found that Barachiel and Khamuel were in the fields. I changed into my work clothes and hurried from my apartment. I had not seen my old guards in a while, and I was determined to catch up with them. They worked together, although work may not be wholly accurate. I found them tossing grains at one another; their shoulder bags were partially filled. 

“Such waste,” I called, causing them to turn. 

Immediately, they stooped to retrieve the grain. Barachiel smiled up at me and said, “Khamuel started it.”

Khamuel replied, “I doubt you will convince the King I am anything like you.” 

I joined them and answered Khamuel, “It hardly matters among friends.” I plucked a grain and tossed it at Khamuel. 

He replied, “Congratulations.” 

Barachiel said, “I hope you’ve saved us a table nearby.”  

I gave his shoulder a friendly pat and answered, “Your place is assured.” 

Khamuel asked, “Why are you here?” 

I answered my friend with a smile, “Obviously, I’m avoiding official duties.” 

Khamuel repeated. “Obviously.” 

Barachiel asked, “Have you set a time?” 

“I left that up to Imabelai,” I said. “When she lets me know, I’ll make the announcement. Drop your bags. Let’s walk to the ranch.” 

I had no business at the ranch; it was just an excuse to spend time with my friends. They dropped their bags and followed me; no one had to twist their arms. The lights were warm, and bird song pleased the ear. 

I asked, “So what do I have to do to get a game of beasts going?” 

Khamuel replied, “Scheduling is the answer.” 

Walking into the trees, I plucked a ripe peach and sniffed the sweet aroma. I asked, “What is it with soldiers and farming?” 

Khamuel changed the subject. “Is there any news about the General?”  

“I haven’t heard,” I said. “Why don’t we go visit him after the ranch?” 

We walked out of the trees, the ranch ahead of us. Barachiel ran in place as he walked beside me. He turned to us with a smile, an invitation to race, and suddenly bolted away. I followed. I had not run in a while; I struggled to keep up. Then Khamuel passed me easily. Of course, Khamuel was the winner. Barachiel was a grumbling second, and the King was a wheezing, embarrassed third. We laughed as I leaned against a wooden post. 

I turned at a noise and found a young colt close and curious. I held my hand through the fence. She eased up cautiously, sniffed my outstretched fingers, and dance away. I counted a dozen colts at play; farther out, I saw cattle grazing contentedly. Workers at a distance along the fence were filling the troughs with clean water. 

Less winded, I turned to my friends and said, “Let’s go see Taush.” 

We walked in silence beyond the fish pools to a seldom-used transport tree. Several abandoned AP trees stood nearby, mute reminders of the people we used to be. I entered code for the Sartare, and the three of us stepped into an active ship, bright and noisy. People hurried between chores. Tired workers showed the burden of their shifts on slumped shoulders. Passing angels slapped the arms of my friends and saluted their King.