“Is this a movie? Hector, was that a little kid in a costume? Who’s the scary old lady?”
We entered the throne room. It took Donna a couple of seconds to realize that the massive room could never have fit into the Victorian she saw from the street. Her eyes opened wide. She grabbed Marais’ arm, holding on tight. He patted her fingers gently.
Gertrude Hunt tugged on me. I pulled a thirty-foot screen to the Pit out of the floor. A huge Dushegub waved its branches at me.
“Proposition: return those you took, or we kill you, we break your inn, and we smother your dog creature. Do you want to discuss?”
I flicked my fingers. Wooden branches shot out of the wall, wrapped around the Dushegub, and yanked it into the wall. I pulled it through the inn toward me. The floor split and the murderous tree emerged, wrapped in Gertrude Hunt’s coils.
Donna shied back. “That’s not CGI. Hector, that is not CGI.”
I threw my voice down the hall. “Tony?”
“Yes?” his disembodied voice replied.
“I have one more ornament for the lawn. It’s in the throne room.”
“I knew you would see things my way. On it.”
I turned back to Marais and Donna. “This way, please.”
They followed me into the Ocean Dining Hall. Outside, past the outdoor terrace, the orange sea glittered in the sun. As if on cue, a massive, scaled creature raised its dragon head from the amber waters, snapped its jaws, and dove back down.
I pointed to the nearest table. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
Donna froze. “I can smell the ocean.”
“Let’s sit,” Marais told her.
She let him lead her to the table.
Droplet emerged from the kitchen. “Welcome, honored guests.”
Donna just gaped at her.
“Chef wants to know if this is your captain and if your badge is on the line,” Droplet asked Marais.
I had tried to explain the difference between film and reality to Orro, but he stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. It didn’t help that Sean kept showing him buddy cop movies and calling them “Angry Captain Documentaries.”
“She’s my spouse,” Marais said.
Droplet’s fur stood on end. She ran to the kitchen, calling out, “It’s his wife! Bring all the doughnuts!”
“Brace yourself,” Marais said and yelled, “She likes strawberry!”
“What is all this?” Donna sounded almost desperate. “Who are you?”
“My name is Dina Demille, and this is Gertrude Hunt,” I told her. “We are an inn that caters to a particular kind of traveler. We’re hosting a spousal selection for the head of one of the galactic nations, and we hired your husband as extra security. I apologize if this has caused you concern. Secrecy is paramount to us. Officer Marais has the means to handle any problems he encounters, and he is very good at what he does.”
“You’re arresting aliens,” Donna said in a small voice.
“Only sometimes,” Marais said.
Donna stared at him.
“Mostly I cite the law, threaten them with a really deadly gun, and then they go away. It’s very safe.”
Donna blinked and looked at me. “A deadly gun?”
“It vaporizes things. On a subatomic level,” he told her. “I’ll show you later.”
It was probably safe to smile now, so I did. “Gertrude Hunt is honored to count you among our visitors. Please make yourself at home. It’s a lot to take in, and it’s easy to get overwhelmed, so try to relax. You are safe here. Call my name if you need anything.”
A procession of servers carrying platters marched out of the kitchen, led by Orro bearing a mountain of doughnuts on a crystal serving dish.
I got out of the way and went to handle my other problems.
Amphie’s date with the Sovereign was the most tiring experience. She was supposed to have a date after Nycati, but Kosandion requested the switch, and after spending an hour in Amphie’s company, I could see why. He wanted to jump the biggest hurdle first. The second elimination ceremony was tomorrow afternoon, followed immediately by the Third Trial, which was why we were packing the remaining dates into today and tomorrow morning like sardines.
Amphie had chosen the gallery for her date, one of the pre-made environments I specifically created for the selection. I had taken a page out of every heist movie’s playbook and built a somewhat cliché museum room: large, with a high ceiling featuring a beautiful skylight, walls of frosted white glass, and a floor in a mosaic of creams and white. I’d pulled various alien items out of storage, arranged them on pedestals with some strategic lighting, and finished it off with a small vala tree.
The tree was a gift from Lord Soren, Arland’s uncle. I loved it to pieces. It was my baby, and I moved it from its special spot in the vampire wing and gave it the royal treatment it deserved: its own focal point directly under the skylight where its blood-red leaves glowed against its black branches. It grew from a patch of moist soil dotted with mossy rocks, with the traditional House Krahr stream winding around through a shallow streambed. The stream continued through the room, creating a natural separation between sections.
It was a serene environment, designed to inspire quiet moments and contemplation. Amphie attacked it like she was in a fight for her life. She steered Kosandion from item to item, offered a quick factoid about its function or origin, asked him a question, and then eagerly hung on every word.
About ten minutes into it, I realized it wasn’t about Kosandion. It was a performance for the Dominion’s citizens, designed to show off her comprehensive education and understanding of galactic cultures. Periodically, she would make a small joke, just a little wink that said, “Yes, I’m educated but aren’t I also clever and charming?”
It felt very A-student to me. As if she were called out by the professor to stand next to him in front of the class, and she was committed to proving to everyone that not only could she converse with him, but she could also impress him.
It was incredibly draining, and I didn’t even have to keep up my end of the conversation the way Kosandion did. I kept hoping she would run out of clever, but more kept coming and coming, until finally after an hour, she was forced to exit.
Now I was escorting her to her quarters through a long hallway, with Beast leading the way. Nycati was next. He had also chosen the gallery, and I would pick him up as soon as I dropped her off. Normally either Tony or Sean would’ve brought the candidate to me while I remained with Kosandion, but Amphie’s date was broadcast in its entirety, and they both had to babysit the delegations in the various dining halls.
Hopefully nobody would get poisoned this time.
I had sealed the gallery with Kosandion inside to give him a few minutes to relax. The inn was watching him, but I was still paranoid.
“How do you feel it went?” Amphie asked.
“It’s not my place to offer an opinion,” I told her.
“You are with him all the time. You’ve earned his trust. Does he talk about me?”
She was barking up the wrong tree. “Gertrude Hunt prides itself on confidentiality.”
Amphie’s eyes narrowed. The hint of a different person shone through, a driven, cut-throat woman focused on her goal.