Starborne

Chapter 21

I walked through the halls, humming contentedly as I weaved through shafts of sunlight warming the white marble floors. How I ever found the palace formal was beyond me, I now saw the way that it was constantly filled with light and warmth. I waved at some of the women I had met during my trips to the kitchen, and continued with my pitchy interpretation of an old Terran song. The words had been forgotten long ago, but the musical swells reminded me of some of the only positive memories from my childhood. 

I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and really only intended to wander around until it was time to meet the Terran control before dinner. Suddenly I found myself in Stefin’s wing, facing the ornate mass of his door. 

I hesitated outside, confused and apprehensive, but still foolishly excited at the prospect of seeing his face. We hadn’t spoken since our kiss, I’d chickened out of going to find him in the morning. Better not to rush things, to perhaps run into each other organically. 

Even though he hadn’t promised anything, I felt like… I was his. I knew the frenzy of the mating period was going to my head, but I allowed myself the comfort of knowing that, just for these few weeks, he belonged to me. It was more than just the hormones, more than the herbs and the chants and the magic.

The butterflies in my stomach rendered me silent as I impulsively reached up to knock on his door. I knew he was in there, our new link called to me and sang whenever I got closer. I wondered if he could feel me too, if the pull rendered him full of bubbly happiness. Maybe I would make an excuse as to why I was there, but if he was happy to see me I might consider truthfully revealing that I missed him. Just as I was about to make my presence known, the door opened wide. 

I stepped back, startled. I lost my balance a bit as my arm swung into nothingness instead of knocking on the wood, but I managed to right myself before straightening up to meet his eyes. Well, where his eyes should have been. Instead, I stupidly stared into the smug expression of Melora. 

There were many reasons why she was in his bedroom, I reminded myself. It could have been a royal emergency, or she left something there, or he - 

My brain froze and my chest tightened painfully as I looked past her to see Stefin stepping out of his bathroom and picking up a discarded shirt from the bed. I cut my eyes away and focused again on Melora’s ruffled hair and flushed complexion. Each observation stabbed into my heart: swollen lips, messy clothes, and the smell… She smelled like him. I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a gasp as I turned and fumbled away. 

The sunlight I once saw as warm was now blinding. Everything about this place was too pristine, too clean, not real. I wondered if she would tell him I was there. Probably not, and it was for the better. 

Soon I found myself outside of the palace, streaking through the streets and ignoring the flashes of color and life that I had once admired. I had tricked myself into bestowing familiarity onto this alien planet, and that was my own undoing. I’d broken my own rules, and speed walking through the street any self pity I harbored turned into hard anger. I had no idea where I was headed, except that I wanted to feel lost, isolated, to have my outside match the confusion I felt within.

Not mine, never mine, not even temporarily. I had been lying to myself trying to find some hidden meaning beneath Stefin’s words when all along he had been being honest with me, upfront and choosing his words at face value. I was a nuisance. A distraction from his perfect life, just something else to overcome before he was able to be truly happy. He had never intended to go through with this on his end, he had just been saying what he needed to in order to get me to stay. 

I want you, even though I can’t. I’m drawn to you and it defies reason and everything I know about what my life needs to be.

When Stefin initially revealed his feelings to me, I thought those words were romantic. I knew they were a confession but I thought it was more, a profession of something real. Instead, he had just been being honest about his disdain for our situation. He needed me so that we could play out the traditions of his people, and he would get another chance at the love that I had screwed up. I felt embarrassed, rejected, and it righted the way my lovesick brain had foolishly framed our whole encounter.

He held me firmly but away from him, and I was the one who stepped closer. I kissed him and he didn’t stop me but it was completely probable that I imagined his yearning for me. I had conflated his feelings with mine, and any doubt my stupid heart may have had evaporated as soon as I pictured the mussed sheets and Melora’s triumphant smirk. 

There was a reason he didn’t return the night before. That much was incredibly clear, and I burned remembering how I’d sat there waiting for him to come back, waiting for him to tell me - what? He told me it wasn’t a mistake, but maybe that was just an attempt at kindness. Misplaced, because I would have preferred him to be upfront, but he most likely intended to let me down easily. This was better, I reminded myself. Straightforward was preferable, because now I knew better than to ever wait for him again. Clean breaks healed faster and more completely. My ankle no longer felt any pain, and soon my heart wouldn’t either. 

I must have looked so stupid, playing right into what he thought of me. The simple, naive Terran, falling for a Prince and proving my emotional weakness time and time again. I’d sat there and recited a fairytale, somehow conflating my own situation with one. Stefin told me this whole thing was designed to manufacture feelings. He promised it wouldn’t affect him and that I would likely fall for it, he had literally explained to me in no uncertain terms that I would make more of this than there ever was. I guess I thought that because my feelings had started before the ceremonies and the dumb love-smoke, that it was more real. 

I couldn’t picture touching, tasting, smelling anyone else. It made me nauseous, almost as much as the physical pain that raced through me when I sensed their combined essence permeating that room. It was more than emotional hurt, the mating cycle was affecting me. The fact that he was able to… fuck her - it proved that even those sensations were one-sided.

I found myself walking deeper into the city, and it became quiet. The streets were darkened, and there were less people around. Those I saw hurried by quickly and avoided eye contact.

A dangerous relief rushed through me, and I cracked a sardonic smile. Here it was: I had found the long awaited underbelly of Cynabar, the one I tricked myself into thinking didn’t exist. This was familiar in a different, more complete way. The old Holly would have come here and ignored the rest of the city, looking for another Pilot to spend the night with, and being off this planet before he opened his eyes the next morning.

I stopped in front of a bar, the fluorescent sign indicating that it was OPEN, but the drunk men milling about the entrance proved that for sure. I wasn’t sure how long I had been walking, but the darkness of the sky was no longer representative of the neighborhood, and everything was cloaked in the cool of night. I had missed my meeting with the Terrans, and would get shit from it later, but I didn’t care. 

One of the men called to me with loud, slurred words. I didn’t understand the language, but that no longer mattered to me. I pushed past them forcefully and took a seat at the bar. The wood of the counter was sticky with beer, and the red vinyl cover of my barstool was cracked and fading. It looked nothing like the natural beauty of Cynabar, probably modeled after the typical military dive bars found in the colonies. Either way, I preferred it.

The bartender spared a single glance at my linen attire, but apparently was convinced I belonged anyway after glimpsing my expression. I matched the desperate and dejected mood of this place; I wanted to forget, like everyone here.

“Double of whatever is hardest. Leave the bottle.” The order came out smoothly, practiced and perfected by years of doing this exact same thing. I was lost, lonely, and hurt. The alcohol numbed things and, if I did this correctly, I would forget about who Stefin even was.

I had let myself lose the truth of what my life really was. I was drawn into superficial warmth and shiny, rainbow crystals. The blindfold had been ripped off, and now I was left grasping at the shadows of my poor choices. So, I did the only thing I had ever really done well. I ran away from my feelings, down towards the bottom of the bottle.