The Days of the Golden Moons (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 5) (20 page)

"Stop
it.  Even angels are forced to endure mother-in-laws."

"Ah,
about that..."

"About
what?"  My heart skipped a beat.

He
turned to me, his eyes and silver hair sparkling.  "This business about
angels. Garinka's theory...about me."

"You
are not an angel," I declared.  "You're something Senya, but you are
definitely not an angel!"

"How
are you so certain?" he smirked.

"Angels
do not fall in love with Humans and create babies with them.  As Tuman said, angels
don't need to procreate.  If you were an angel, what would that make Shika?  I
love him with all my heart, but he's not exactly angelic either."

He
laughed. 

"What?"

"What
if two angels loved each other?"

"They
don't do that," I protested.  "We've already been through this.  The
purpose of love is procreation."

"Ach,
Kate.  What did we just spend the last twenty minutes doing with absolutely no
intention of procreating anything?"

"That
was sex.  Angels don't have sex."

"How
do you know this?"  He took a long drag on his cigarette.

"Angels
don't smoke cigarettes either," I said.  "Especially in bed when they
know it irritates their wife.  If an angel loved someone, they would do
everything to make their life perfect and happy.  They wouldn’t be smart asses
and irritating dickheads."

He
smirked again and kept smoking.

“Angels
are also asexual, not male or female.”

“That’s
not true,” he replied.  "Let us theorize about love between
angels."   He tossed his cigarette into space and turned to me with bright
eyes.  "Since you already have a few strong theories."

"Why?
 I don't want to discuss it anymore."

"Hear
me out.  This is an important discussion."

"Speak
then."  I picked up my tablet and glanced through the morning news.  The
tablet went flying out of my hand and landed on the bureau across the room.

"Did
I ask you to listen to me?"

"Yes,
Your Imperial Angelness, I'm listening."  I lay back down on my pillow
with arms crossed in front of my chest. "Speak, oh wondrous one."

"Ach
Kate," he sighed.  "How is it for the last ten years I have missed
you with every breath yet now that you are here again, I would happily send you
away?"

"Ok,
sorry!"  I threw myself on him and kissed his face.  "I am all ears
except for the mouth, nose and eye parts.  Tell me your theory."

"Thank
you," he said either for the kisses or my willingness to listen. 
"Let's say, for instance, that love between angels doesn't produce another
angel but rather something else like stars or universes or simply a good
energy."

"Ok?"

"If
that were the case, would you believe angels could love each other?"

"I
don't know," I replied.  "I'm not even sure I believe in angels to
begin with and even if I did there is nothing that could make me believe that
you are one.  Now if you want to try to convince me that you're related to a
devil, well then maybe I'd buy that."

"I
didn't say we were talking about me.  I said we are just theorizing, yes?"

"Nobody
can theorize with you because you already know everything.  Do you want
breakfast?"  I climbed out of bed and hunted down my robe.

"In
a minute.  Let's say that two angels fell in love, and it was allowed because
when they did they produced a wondrous energy that made the universe better. 
Will you accept that?"

"Yes
Master, whatever you say."  I pulled his robe out of the closet.  "What
would you like to eat?  Do you want whatever Keko left outside the door?"

"Ay
yah!"  He leaned back on his pillow and spoke to the ceiling. 
"Everyone else in this bloody galaxy quakes whenever I deign to speak, but
you couldn't care less what I have to say."

"And
that's why you love me," I replied and grabbing his hand, tried to pull
him up.  "Come on, I'm hungry."

"Katie!" 
He grabbed me and held me still.  "I want to tell you this.  Listen,
please!"

"Senya,"
I said, cupping his face in my hands.  "I don't want to know who you
really are.  I don't want to know that you are the Archangel Mika’el whose been
sent back down to right all the wrongs with the mortal world.  I just want you
to be you, as weird and strange as you are, because I am only me.  It's hard
enough being married to the guy who is number one on the mortal world food chain. 
Imagine what kind of trauma it would be for me to find out I'm married to
number two in the Heavenly food chain.  So for my own personal sanity, please
keep your revelation to yourself and for the next fifty years or so that I'll
be around in this life, let's just try to live it and enjoy it.  After that,
when I'm dead, you can tell me anything you want."

He
blinked his eyes and furrowed his brow.  “But…”

“No,”
I repeated.

“Alright,”
he shrugged.  “Will you make me some eggs?”

"Yes. 
Wait!  Two?"

Chapter 29

Moira

I
was going to the Opera.  Opera was one of the few remaining pleasures I had in
this life.  The Imperial Mishnese Opera House was by the far, the most splendid
in the realm and the tenor who was currently starring in this year's rendition
of The Magnificent Fool was my favorite tenor of all time. 

I
was going alone save my one remaining attendant, Lady Drefus.  She was old and
didn’t hear hardly a thing.  I took no pleasure in her company, but she was
company none the less.  I wore one of my best Court gowns.  It was one that I
wore in my last year as Queen, the year before Yokaa died.  Some of the seed
pearls were coming loose.  I caught a few in my hand.  I would need to get it
repaired after this night. 

Lady
Drefus suggested I commission some new gowns.  The Emperor had granted me an
allowance, a generous one I would concede, but I was still loathe to spend his
money.  It gave me more pleasure to dress like a pauper and have people remark
that he kept me in this fashion.

Lady
Drefus and I descended from our limousine, and I clutched her frail arm as we paraded
up the red carpet of the Opera House.  It was more for her benefit than mine
that I held her arm in this manner.  Surely, she would have toppled over should
I allow her to walk alone. 

There
were still those that curtseyed to me and snapped my picture.  It warmed my
heart that I was still loved.  There were many who did not even know who I was. 
Mishnah was filled now with those who hadn’t a drop's worth of Mishnese blood. 
They came from everywhere, from all the planets of the Empire.  They looked at
me as if I were a great oddity and I heard some murmur to each other, telling
themselves that I was the Emperor’s grandmother. 

What
did I feel when I heard this?  I was not certain.  My instinct told me to shout
a denial.  For more than fifty years, I had done so and still I was tempted to
do so now.  They would look at me then as a mad old woman and laugh in their
hands as I passed by.

“Come
M’lady,” Lady Derfus said as if it were she guiding me rather than the other
way around. 

We
took the lift to the top tier and an usher escorted us to the Royal Mishnese
box.  This was my box.  This had always been my box.  My life had passed by in
this box.  When I was young, and the Crown Princess of Mishnah, so slim and
elegant, I stood in here and waved at the crowds.  Then, I was heavy with my
daughter and later my son yet still they loved me and cheered me when they saw
me here.  Later again, I was slim, and a Queen, and now I was an old and bent dowager
who the crowds no longer knew.

“Look
M’lady,” Drefus said, even as my eyes set upon the same. 

There
was another woman in my box.  She sat in my seat and looked upon the empty
stage with my opera glasses.  I was enraged.  I stormed the last few steps to
my seat and demanded her removal.

“Who
the hell are you?” this woman retorted.  She did not speak Mishnese but that
foul language English that was the native tongue of the Karut’s wife.  She
carried a translator, and it was from this that we managed to shout at each
other.

“Who
are you?” I demanded in reply.  “This is my box.”

She
pulled herself up haughtily, and for a moment I wondered if she was royalty
from one of those other planets now within the Empire.  It seemed there were a
whole host of kings and queens, princes and dukes who called the Karut their
overlord and Emperor.  This woman was dressed like a queen and even wore a
tiara though I found it so crass and unfashionable to do so outside the
Palace.  At least the Human agreed with me in this and refrained from excessive
display.

“This
is the box of the Mishnese Royalty,” I said, calmer now.  Perhaps she was
merely lost.  “The other boxes belong to the lesser planets.”

“No,
I was told to sit in this box,” she replied and looked again at the stage where
the orchestra has just started to warm up.  “You are in the wrong box.”

“Who
told you to sit here?” I demanded.

“My
grandson!” she replied and just at that moment, dear Shika joined us carrying a
bottle of wine.  He was followed by the bastard's grandson, his friend Petya,
who held some wine glasses.

“Hi
Gramma,” Shika said and the woman and I turned simultaneously, and we both
replied, “Hello dear.”

Shika
laughed.  He came to the woman and kissed her cheek.  “Hello Gramma Charlotte,”
he said and did the same to mine.  “Hello Gramma Moira.  Have the two of you
met?”

“No!”
 Again we both replied in unison.

“Well
great.  Now you can.  Come on Petya, why are you standing?  Pour!  Gramma
Moira, sit down here.”  Shika pointed at the seat next to the woman.  “Allow me
to introduce Charlotte Golden, Dowager Duchess of Renfort and my mom's mother.”

“The
Duchy of Renfort?” I gasped.  “I remember when Lork and Nadia had Renfort.”

“I
remember too,” Drefus mumbled.  “But they're both dead now, aren't they?”

“Well
I hope so,” I replied.  “They were ancient even when I was a girl.”

“My
late husband was the Duke of Renfort,” the woman said.  “Although poor Manny died
before he knew that.  Now my son is the Duke.  He doesn't deserve it in my mind
either.  That alien man was all too generous to that schlub, Allen and his
horrid wife, what's her name.”

“What
alien man?” I declared, sitting down beside the woman and taking the wine that
Petya offered me.

“Oh,
that dreadful man my daughter is married to,” the woman replied swallowing her
own wine. 

“That
would be my father, the Emperor,” Shika informed me.

“Somehow,
no matter how hard you try, your children end up with the least desirable
spouses you can imagine,” the woman mused.

“Quite
so,” I agreed.  The wine was fine, and I indicated for Petya to pour me some
more.  “My daughter was matched to the most awful man.  It was an absolute
nightmare.”

“I
can believe it,” the woman cried.  “Look at my daughter's husband!”

“My
daughter's husband was your daughter's husband's father and let me tell you,
the street rat was a saint compared to that bastard.”

“Um,
that would be my grandfather, Prince Sorkan,” Shika smirked, and he and Petya both
laughed.

“Steven,
pour me some more wine, darling.”  The woman held out her glass.  Turning back
to me, she said, “What did you say your name was?”

“Moira,”
I replied.  “Dowager Queen of Mishnah.”

“Oh! 
Well, I'm Charlotte.”  She held out her hand to shake.  I don't believe I had
ever in my lifetime shaken anyone's hand, but I shook hers.  “So you were
saying your daughter's husband was a bastard?”

“Well,
not a real bastard,” I replied.  “He was quite legitimately born.”

“Well
my daughter's husband is a bastard,” she declared.  The boys sitting behind us
snickered again.

“No,
he's not,” I protested.  “He was legitimately born, as well.  We had a
beautiful wedding for the two of them and then I was present throughout her lying-in. 
I was even there at his birth.  Quite a surprise he was indeed, such a strange
little fellow.  Then of course my daughter died, and I couldn't think straight
after that.  I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing.”

“I'm
awfully sorry about that,” Charlotte said and patted my hand.  “I couldn't
imagine losing my daughter, even for this delightful boy.”  She reached back
and squeezed dear Shika's hand.

“He
is a delightful boy, isn't he?” I agreed, squeezing his hand, as well. 

“You’re
okay too, Peter,” Charlotte called.  “A little fatty like your mother but still
a good boy.”

“Thanks,
Lady Charlotte,” Petya replied and both boys burst into peals of laughter.

“Petya
and I are going to head out now if it's okay Gramma Char?  Gramma Moira?” 
Shika said when their laughter had finally calmed.  “We don't really like
opera.”

“Actually,
we hate opera,” Petya added.

“Oh,
that's fine dear,” Charlotte said and then turned back to me.  “Who did you say
you were?”

“I
am Moira,” I repeated.  “Dowager Queen of Mishnah.”  Perhaps it was the wine
speaking or perhaps something had happened inside of me for my next words I had
never before uttered in my lifetime.  “I am Sehron de Kudisha's grandmother.”

“Oh!”
Charlotte cried.  “We're related then.  I am Katie de Kudisha's mother.  Tell
me, Moira, do you play cards?  I am desperate for someone to play cards with.”

“I
do actually,” I said.  “And I have no one to play with either.  Poor Drefus
here can't remember her sums and is no good at all to play.”

“Wonderful!”
Charlotte applauded though the soprano was still in the midst of her recitative. 
“How about tomorrow?  I live at the Palace in that big building…oh dear, what's
it called?  It has a lovely glass statute in the lobby.”

“I
live in the same building,” I instructed.  “It’s called the High Lord's
building.  Sehron has put all of us grande dames out to pasture there.”

“Oh,
it's a charming building,” Charlotte said.  “I am on the third floor with a
wonderful view of the ocean.”

“I
am the third floor too, perhaps we are neighbors?”

“How
delightful,” Charlotte exclaimed. “I don't think I'll ever get used to having
two moons here.  Manny would be so tickled by it.  Manny was a lawyer, you
know.  What did your husband do?”

“My
husband, Yokaa was a king.”

“Oh
yes, of course,” Charlotte laughed.  “How silly of me!  Sometimes I wonder
where my brain has gone.  Manny used to say I should have Katie's husband look
at it.  He used to be a brain doctor.”

“Yes,
I knew that.”

“Manny
was so proud of him, a brain doctor and then he had this enormous company and
then what do you know, he turns out to be this Emperor fellow too.”

“Yokaa
was proud of him too,” I declared.  “Yokaa was very proud of him.”

“Well,”
Charlotte said.  “We have missed nearly the whole first act with our chatting. 
Look, they are taking an intermission already.”

“Do
you care to hear the second act?”

“Not
really.  How about you?”

“Not
at all,” I replied.  “Shall we go back to the Palace and play cards?”

“That
would be lovely, Moira,” Charlotte said. 

I
waved for an attendant who rang for our limousine and together we left the
Opera House and drove home.

“I
only play for money,” Charlotte said.  “Five dollars to buy in.”

“Let’s
make it ten,” I suggested.

“And
twenty to raise,” Charlotte countered.

“Perfect,”
I replied.  “Just perfect.”