Tea Party

By Abigail Falanga

“I’ve always wanted to chase down a beautiful space princess!” Zaivar Witz remarked hopefully when the reward for the missing Princess Mira came through on the Interstellar Broadcast Bands.

Two days later, the hope solidified as his chances of nabbing the princess improved. He’d learned what he could about her, which wasn’t much: Princess Mira was the near relation of the fabulously wealthy and vaguely familiar Archduke of the Vorigard Belt, acclaimed for her beauty but wild and impetuous. Her holograms in the public record were few and of poor quality, but more than enough to set Zai’s imagination afire.

Zai docked his Huntsman ship in the overpriced ZM0 Space Station’s upper ports, planning his opening greeting. He brushed his dark hair in a screen’s reflection, deciding to make a good impression, then activated his tracker to locate the unique signature of the precious Vorigardic stones the princess was reported to be carrying. Should he ask to keep one as a souvenir?

Maybe don’t push it.

The faint signal led him through ZM0’s posh galleries and to the five-star hotel at its summit.

Zai paused to adjust his disguise. He’d kept it simple: His long, dark jacket with a decorative sash nicked from a nearby display around his waist as a belt, a nondescript pair of spectacles, and he could pass for anything from a waiter to a VIP.

He searched the hotel quickly, consulting his tracker. At last, a flicker indicated that the Vorigardic stones lay just beyond a door near the restaurant.

“Princess Mira!” he said, barging in. “I apologize but—”

The sight within stopped him. Three elderly, undeniably upper-class women regarded him coldly from their table laid for tea. One stood to an awe-inspiring height of at least six feet.

“Jennsin,” she intoned in tremulous outrage, “who is this person?”

An android butler tottered out from a corner to confront Zai. “This is the private lounge of Lady Dragomirav. Whom should I say is calling?”

Caught at a disadvantage, Zai replied with the bare truth. “Zaivar Witz. I would like a word, if that is not too much trouble.”

“Ah!” the lady said with a disconcerting note of recognition. “Of the Armongaurd Witz? Yes, I believe I knew your father. Come in and join us. Hylda, pour another cup.”

Zai advanced a few steps and put on his most charming smile. “I shouldn’t stay, though thank you for your hospitality. In fact, I’m looking for someone. Perhaps you’ve seen her? A petite young lady, very beautiful with dark hair? She may be staying in the hotel.”

“Your search cannot be so urgent that you can’t stop for tea. Boys like you are always hungry, so do have a seat.”

“Thanks.” He grinned, taking a seat. “Those pastries look too delicious to miss.”

“Now, isn’t this nice,” Hylda said, setting a cup of tea in front of him. “It’s so rare we get nice young lads like you for a visit. Gaena, please pass those sandwiches.”

Zai took a ham and watercress wedge. “Now about this lady I’m looking for; you may have heard of her—Princess Mira?”

“Doesn’t seem familiar,” Gaena said. “But there are so many people staying at the hotel. What delicious cakes these are! Do you think we can get the recipe?”

Zai took a sip of tea—and a risk, slipping into Gaena’s mind to get a glimpse of what she really knew. A sea of pastries met him, and with a smothered laugh, he withdrew.

Hylda was no better. Her thoughts were all gossip.

Lady Dragomirav herself was staring at him so intently that he didn’t dare try to read her mind. Could she read his mind, as well?

“Um, thank you for the sandwich,” he said, standing up quickly and darting a look at the tracker, which showed the stones still very close. “But I really must be going.”

In his haste, he bumped against a display of artificial flowers, sending them into a dangerous wobble.

“Sit down!” Lady Dragomirav commanded stridently.

Jennsin the butler advanced, laid a surprisingly strong hand on Zai’s shoulder, and firmly guided him back into the chair.

Zai squirmed. Spending a whole afternoon sipping tea and eating dainties with these ladies was starting to feel like an obligation.

“Jennsin, take away those dreadful flowers,” Lady Dragomirav said. “They have been causing disruptions all afternoon! Throw them out an airlock if you must.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Now, this person you are looking for, Mr. Witz, is perhaps your sweetheart?” Gaena inquired.

“No,” he explained. “Princess Mira is a fugitive from the Vorigard Belt. They’ve offered a high reward for her return, in fact.”

“Never heard of it,” said Lady Dragomirav. “Nor of her. She seems a flighty girl, and I hope you find her.”

Zai ventured a look at her mind—and encountered a vivid fantasy of him romancing an eye-batting blonde, daring enough to rival his own flights of fancy.

He jumped to his feet again, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “I really must excuse myself. Thank you for the delicious tea!”

Out in the hotel again, away from the ladies’ polite chatter, he sighed in relief and glanced at his flickering tracker.

“Must be a glitch,” he muttered, and set off in the uncertain direction it indicated.

***

“Is he gone, Jennsin?”

The android stepped into the room. “Yes, your highness. The gentleman has gone, tracking the flowers where I scattered them throughout the hotel. It should keep him occupied for some time.”

“Excellent,” Princess Dragomirav said. “Such impudence! Hunting me for bounty. My great-nephew offering a reward in the first place was disgraceful enough. Why shouldn’t I set off on my own to see the universe before I die?”

“You shan’t die for years yet, dear,” Hylda said, rising to her full seven-and-a-half feet—average for a Vorigard woman.

“Have another cake, Mira?” Gaena suggested.

“Why not?” Princess Dragomirav allowed herself a tiny smile. “Living wild at last!”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Abigail Falanga may be found in New Mexico creating magic in many ways—with fabric, food, paper, music, and especially with words! She’s loved fantasy ever since playing out epic adventures of swords, fairies, and monsters with her siblings, and loved sci-fi since her dad’s stories around the dinner table. Besides sharing mad little stories on Havok, she is busily trying to launch approximately five hundred novels into the world. Some of them are even finished!

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