The Days of the Golden Moons (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 5) (14 page)

“Let
me help you.  Maybe you should lie down again.”  I wrapped my arms around his waist. 
He shirked away from me.  From me!  “Stop that!” I ordered and gripped him
tighter.  “Since when do you have a problem with me touching you?  Lean on me
and let's walk to the couch.”  He kept a hand on the wall and stumbled a bit as
we hobbled across the room.  It took all my strength to help him stay upright. 
Fortunately, it wasn’t far.  He collapsed upon the couch, heaving his bad leg
after him with both hands and propping it up on the armrest.  “What happened to
your leg?”  I covered him with the wool blanket that had been lying on the
floor. 

“It
has been having spasms since I was in space a few days ago.” 

The
color washed out of his face, and beads of sweat formed at his temples.  I ran
to the bathroom and wet a towel with cold water.

“Do
you want me to massage it?”   Kneeling down beside him, I wiped off his face.  “Why
is it cramping so bad?  You never had problems in space before.”

“Take
off the brace.”

I
unlatched the thing and then unlaced the sides of his pant leg to reveal a
terrible scar running up the length of his leg.  The muscles of his calf and
thigh were incredibly tight, knotted and misshapen.

“Oh!”
I gasped involuntarily.  “Oh my God!  That is even uglier than your feet.  How
did you do this?  When did this happen?” 

“Will
you massage it with menthol gel, Madame?”

“Of
course, Your Imperial Everythingness.  Where is the bottle?”  A desk drawer
across the room opened and a container of menthol gel came flying at me.  Opening
it, I took a scoop in my hands and then rubbed it into his skin, pushing
against the distorted muscles, kneading them, massaging them.  Space massage
was a required class at the academy because of the prevalence of space sickness
especially among cadets.  I was always pretty good at it.  I think I even got
an A out of the course.  “Maybe you have a touch of space sickness too?” I suggested. 
“I can diagnose these things.  My first husband was a doctor.”

A
grunt in response.

“This
is one nasty, ugly scar.”  I added some more gel.  It heated up as I rubbed it into
his skin, and his muscles began soften and relax.  “It beats both of mine by a
long shot.  I don't even want to know how you did this, especially when you've
supposedly been cloistered in your office with a thousand guards surrounding
you all the time.  Of course, I probably don't want to know how I got mine
either.” 

“A
bear.”

“A
bear?” I repeated.  “A bear got you or me?  Probably you, since I don't like to
eat them or play with them.  I suspect I got mine in a spaceplane crash.  Geez,
you are all knotted up.”  I work on his calf.  “This must hurt like hell.”

“Ay
yah,” he mumbled.

“Okay.”
 I capped the container.  “Let that soak in and then I can massage it again in
about an hour.” 

Wiping
my hands on the towel, I covered him back up with the blanket.  It was then
that I noticed the long scars on the inside of his forearms originating from
his wrists.

“And
what the hell is this?”  I declared, grabbing his wrist.  This scar was fresh. 
“Was that a bear also?”

He
didn’t respond, just angrily pulled his arm away from me.  “You may go now,
Madame.”

“Let
me see that,” I demanded and reached for him again.

“Go!”
he repeated with no uncertainty. 

“What
the hell did you do?”

He
turned his back to me.

“Senya?”

“You
are dismissed, Madame.”  The door opened, and there was a big Karupta guy
standing there.

I
was so furious I thought I could take on that big dude all by myself. 

“I
get it.  I see what that is.  Now I know why everyone is tiptoeing around you. 
Now I understand why I’m supposed to be forgiving.  You...you...if you do that
again, I’ll kill you!” I screamed.   “Do you hear me, Senya?  You cannot just
create this bloody monstrosity, disassemble the Alliance, change the whole damn
galaxy and then decide to check out of here!”

He
still didn’t move.  The Karupta guy came into the room and pointed at the door.

“You
are not going to leave me!” I shrieked.  “Not forever!”

Nothing. 

“Damn
you!  You promised me happily ever after, and this isn't happily ever after at
all!  This is miserable ever after!  This isn't fair.  This is so not fair. 
This is not what I signed up for.  I want my money back.  I want a do-over!”

“Madame,”
the Karupta guy growled.

“Okay,
okay, I'm leaving.  I’m out of here.”  

Throwing
down my hands, I marched across the room, slamming the door behind me.  As I
stomped down the stairs, the big Karupta guy came out and shut the door quietly
then stood in front of it with his massive arms crossed over his chest.

A
while later I was listening to Lady Fern on the vid rattle away about my
schedule as soon as I got back to Mishnah, whenever that would be. 

“Cascadia
III is requesting your presence for a variety of activities beginning next
month.  We could book the entire month there if you like and then move on to
Lumineria.  They too are most anxious to see you as well as the Derian
planets.  Talas also…”

“Fern,”
I interrupted with a sigh.  “You and Luci can figure out what I need to do and
just schedule it.  I don't care where or who we see.  Just do it.”

“Certainly
Madame,” Fern continued.  “Now, in terms of your gowns.  We would like to
commission at least forty new outfits for you.”

“Fine,
whatever.”

“Alright,
next.”  Fern checked off her list.  “You need to pick out some new furniture.”

“Uh,
why?”

“Your
new apartment?  Would you like a decorator just to come and do it or would you
like to select your colors and fabrics yourself?  You don't want the items from
your old apartment moved there do you?”

“What
new apartment?  Where am I going?”

“Well.”
 She looked flustered.  “You've been given a new flat.”

“The
Tower,” I mumbled.  Just as I had suspected.  “It doesn't matter to me.  The
old stuff is fine.  Hell, you could buy new old stuff off of Craig's List for
all I care.”  It wasn’t like I would need designer furniture to decorate a
Tower prison.

“Yes
Madame, of course,” Fern replied and then really quickly signed off.  Tuman and
Sorkan came in the front door, stomping their wet shoes on the mat.

“Good
morning,” Sorkan said cheerily.

“Is
it?”

They
glanced at each other.

“Is
he awake?”  Sorkan nodded toward the stairs. 

“I
don't know.  He's resting probably.”  I dragged myself off the couch and into
the kitchen.  I opened the fridge and looked at the same things I saw yesterday. 
“He seems to be in a lot of pain.”  I took out some eggs, butter and milk. 
Then I found the flour and baking powder.

“Physically
or mentally?” Tuman asked.

“Both.”
 Finding a bowl on a lower shelf, I started cracking eggs into it.  “Geez, this
is all so over my pay grade.”

“What?”
Sorkan said, looking in the bowl as if cracked eggs where a novelty to him. 
“Making breakfast?”

“No. 
That I can handle.  Dealing with the mental issues of the Evil Emperor is way
beyond my skill set.  Pancakes anyone?”

 “I
ate,” Tuman replied.

“I
haven't.”  Sorkan smiled.  “May I help you?”

“How
about a pot of coffee?  Strong.  Regular.  Extra caffeine.  And I saw some
strawberries in there that you can clean.”

“Now
you see why Taner has heart attacks and Berkan has gained a hundred pounds,”
Sorkan said, starting the coffee pot and finding the maple syrup.  Tuman set
out the plates and cups while I flipped the pancakes on to a platter.  “How are
you feeling now?  Are you ready to swing from more trees and swim in the
river?”

“Very
funny,” I snapped.  “But thank you for asking.  Yes, I am much better and ready
to hit some more trees.  In fact, I might do it this afternoon just to get out
of this depressing and oppressive house.  Geez, I didn't realize Berkan gained a
hundred pounds."

“I
guess I will have one or two pancakes,” Tuman said and sat down at the table.

“I'm
starting to think it was actually nice being catatonic for the last decade.”  I
sighed as a bolt of lightning flashed outside.  Thunder boomed overhead.

“Another
nasty storm out there,” Sorkan commented.

“It’s
worse in here.”  Tuman smiled.

There
was a thumping noise on the stairs as Senya came slowly down clutching the rail. 
In his Karupta tunic and leggings and messy hair, he certainly didn’t look like
the guy who billions of people fell on their face in front of.  Frankly, he
looked like the kind of guy my mother would have been horrified by if I brought
him home.  Wait.  I did bring him home, and she was horrified. 

Setting
one more plate, I poured him a cup of coffee and pulled out his chair as he
hobbled to the table.  Tuman and Sorkan hardly looked up.  Senya sat down, his
head slumping a bit and his eyes flashing erratically.  I put some pancakes and
strawberries on his dish.

“You
have a migraine?” I asked

He
nodded and reached for the coffee cup but missed it.  It spilled all over the
table and down onto the floor.

“Kari-fa,”
he whispered and started to get up.

“Sit
down,” I ordered and grabbing a towel, I wiped up the mess.  Then, I poured him
a fresh cup of coffee.  Taking his right hand, I placed it on the cup.  In his
left hand, I put his fork.  “Pancakes here, berries here.  Syrup?”

He
nodded slightly, so I poured some syrup over his pancakes. 

“Okay.”
 I patted his shoulder and then decided to massage the knot in his neck.  He
used to get these horrid migraines whenever his beta protein levels started
swinging.  He couldn’t take Excedrin either so I became an expert at kneading
his neck and shoulders.  His skin and muscles were as familiar to me as my own,
maybe even more so. 

The
men ate in silence, except for the pounding of the rain on the roof, and an
occasional clap of thunder.

“Well,
I guess we won't show you what we've done with the pasture land along the
riverfront today,” Sorkan said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.  “What would you
like to do instead, Senya?  Would you like to go riding even though the weather
is poor?  Your blasted beast of a horse could certainly use the exercise.”

“No,”
Senya grumbled.  “I've got work to do.” 

I
pressed my thumbs around the base of his skull and then back down to his
shoulders, making small circles and then larger ones.

“Are
you not on vacation?”  Tuman stabbed another stack of pancakes with his fork
and transferred them to his plate.  “Did we not decide that you would abstain
from your work and have a proper rest?”

“You
decided that,” Senya replied.  “I did not.” 

He
attempted to find the pancakes on his own plate but missed several times.  He
was probably too consumed with the headache to concentrate on where the food was. 
I moved his hand over and showed him again where everything was.

“Well,
we have a thousand chiefs from the west coast arriving today.  They will
worship with us at sundown, and then we will have a banquet.”  Sorkan poured
himself a second cup of coffee.  “Their families have come too.”  He looked
pointedly at me.  “You will need to meet with their wives and let them pay their
respects.”

“Sure,”
I said.  “I can't pretend to be Tarzan in this rain anyway.  Are you okay now? 
My hands are getting tired.”

Senya
nodded again even though I could see he was still suffering.  I finger combed
his hair and gathered it back, retying the ribbon that was hanging loosely. 
For a brief moment, I felt like everything was right and I kissed the back of
his head.

“Tomorrow,
you will grant audience to them?” Tuman asked Senya. 

“No. 
I will come to worship tonight, but that is all.”

“But…”

Senya
turned his face up to Tuman and his eyes flashed.  “If you insist upon making
demands of me whilst I am present, I will return to Mishnah forthwith.”

“Ach,
come now, Senya,” Sorkan scoffed.  “Next week we have yet another thousand or
so chiefs arriving.  All of Karupatani leadership will be visiting whilst you
are in residence.  You have spared us precious little time in the past.  Can
you not…”

“No,
I cannot,” Senya pushed his half-eaten dish away and rose to his feet. “Thank
you, Madame.  When you have a moment, please go to the command center and fetch
Lord Eberley and Lord Garing.”

“Yes,
Sir.  Of course, Sir.”  I saluted and then cleared his dishes.  “Shall I come
massage your leg some more?”