A few phone calls later, Timber had an appointment scheduled with themoyafor a nanite injection. Since the bureaucratic red tape would take about as long as my prescription for the lake visit, we set the date a few days out, right around the time I was due for my trip. A “twofer,” as Timber put it. I could barely contain my excitement. I wanted to tell Timber how I felt in my own tongue, to convey my thoughts and feelings in a way only the Xalanite language could. I knew there would be a period of transition, much like when I first started speaking English, but Timber was a smart woman; she would pick it up in no time.
I grew restless in the days leading to the lake excursion. The wait seemed excruciatingly long, though I knew it was not really that long. What was a few days when I had the whole of my future with Timber to look forward to? So I waited.
To entice the escaped Xalanite to follow us to the lake, I discreetly spread word of my trip. Every time Timber and Ileft the cabin to question more Xalanite visitors or speak with Director Hall, I slid small details about the appointment to nearby Xalanites, pretending to hold innocent conversations in our native tongue.
As far as I knew, Timber was unaware of my plotting. She smiled politely as I spoke to my people and gave no outward signs that she suspected anything.
During this time, I also took Timber’s words about women and servants to heart. I listened more carefully to the females I spoke with and paid close attention to the actions of women and servants alike. Now that I knew how valuable their knowledge could be, I made the effort to pay them better mind. I helped women carry heavy loads and aided Xalanite servants in their chores, engaging in conversation all the while in the hopes of learning something from them. Timber watched from nearby, never interfering, with a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her generous lips.
The night before our trip to the lake, Timber finally brought up my change in behavior.
“I’m proud of you, you know. I see that you’re paying more attention to the females around you and talking to them more.” She grinned and raised her beer in salute after dinner. “You’ve been listening.”
“I will always listen to you,” I said, returning the salute with my own bottle.
She raised a brow and smirked. “Meandthe other women in your life, right?”
That made me laugh. “Indeed.”
Her mention of the other women in my life reminded me that I had long been overlooking a valuable asset back on Xalan: Killaria.
The woman had been serving our house for decades, always quiet and reserved, but more importantly I now knew, alwayslistening. If anyone knew how the scarred Xalanite played into this and how my family may have wronged him, it was Killaria. She had access to more places in the household than even I did, and now she had free reign in the palace as our most senior servant.
While Timber slept, I slipped out of bed and took her phone to the living room to call Killaria without waking my sleeping goddess. I made quick work of the necessary adjustments to the device to make the trans-galactic call. Several minutes passed before she answered, long enough that I almost gave up. When she did reply, her voice was thick with sleep; I had woken her.
“What do you want? It is the middle of the night.”
I cursed myself for not calculating the time difference correctly. The Xalanite solar cycle was not concurrent with Earth’s twenty-four-hour rotation, so our days and nights were not in sync.
“Apologies, Killaria. I did not intend to wake you, but I have important questions to ask that cannot wait for the morrow.”
I waited so long for her to speak that I wondered if she had disconnected the call.
“Fine. Ask.”
Her reply was brisque, curt, and completely justified in its bluntness. Once I had a proper income of Earth money, I would have to send her gifts on the next Xalanite transport back home.
Without wasting another second, I launched into a description of the scarred Xalanite and a recount of his words to me before he was apprehended. Killaria listened quietly, allowing me to finish before she responded.
“I know of no such scarred man. Is that all?”
If her tone had been curt before, it was positively venomous now. What could I have said to upset her?
“Please, Killaria, try to remember. It’s important. This man tried to assassinate me, and he nearly killed my mate. If youhave any knowledge that could help to identify him, I need to know.”
She snorted and spat, a crude sound.“Yes, it’s all about you, isn’t it, dear prince? You and your family are all alike. Did you ever stop to consider that there are thousands who were scarred or disfigured in your father’s precious uprising? The poor man could simply be a disgruntled veteran, a widower, or a grieving father. His words could as easily come from a place of pain rather than cold rage or mercenary greed.”
The sheer malice in her voice took me aback. When did the kindly nanny develop such feelings towards myself and my family? Had she always felt that way, and I just failed to notice?
“Killaria, what has come over you?”
“Nothing has come over me. Now, if you would please stop contacting me. I am not your courier to pass messages to your father, nor am I someone you can bleed for information.”
Before I could even begin to apologize, she disconnected her communicator implant. I tried to reconnect the call, but it was to no avail.
I spent the rest of the night mulling over her strange words. They were not consistent with the woman I knew, yet I had the feeling they were closer to the truth than any she’d previously spoken to me. Should I consider Killaria a possible enemy? Should I contact my family directly and warn them of her sudden bitter hatred?
Timber woke at dawn, while I was still in the living room. Her cries brought me racing to her side, worried that she had another night terror. She gripped me tight and sobbed into my chest as I rocked her in the bed.
