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“Usually when I’m on this ship, I take my meals in the cafeteria with the rest of the crew, but we’re transporting the entire palace staff right now. Spirit forbid me tell them not to follow their protocols… But this meal looks a bit extravagant for the two of us. I’ve heard the ship’s cook and the palace kitchen staff are engaged in some drama too.”
I listen to the tale of two chefs’ egos as I sit across from him and remove my gloves. I make a meal from what’s been set out before us, watching what he pairs together so I can learn. Mak seems like a natural storyteller, his charm apparent with every little detail and punchline.
“What’s in these?” I ask about the pink pancakes, which Mak stuffed with meat and sauce like a taco.
“A root vegetable. It’s naturally this color… Pretty, right? It doesn’t taste strong, just earthy and buttery. But the texture is wonderful.”
When I take a bite, I’m pleased to find it’s not unlike a thick potato pancake.
“It’s delicious!” I exclaim.
He smiles and starts explaining some of the other dishes on our expansive menu for the evening. I’d thought this dinner might be awkward, but food is the great equalizer as always. Talking about it and comparing foods from Earth and Kar’Kal, we start an easy rapport with one another. Mak seems pleased that I enjoy the food, and he fills any silences with interesting tidbits about what’s going on throughout the ship.
A large chunk of the population of his home, The Rightful Heir, has packed up their belongings and brought them aboard. Everyone’s excited to be the first ones on Kar’Kal, but it makes the voyage difficult for the warriors that live on this ship semi-permanently and don’t know what to do with the influx of civilians.
“There are a few people with us that recall a time when civilian passengers were more common on this ship,” he says. “When I was young, warriors aboard would often bring their mates along if they didn’t have small children. The higher-ranking warriors might have their entire extended family aboard. We would host smaller ships here, help them get from place to place without paying for the fuel on their own. At that time, there were many nomadic Kar’Kali families that lived on a ship together, running small businesses instead of taking positions on the larger pirate crews that my sworn run. We would gather here for special events. The docking zone would be packed tight.”
I nod, having noticed that the open center of the ship had way more space than was currently occupied when we landed there on Kalla’s tiny but speedy craft.
“Things changed after the Deadheads targeted us on one such occasion. There was a mating ceremony held on this ship. It’s not perfect, but the garden in the atrium works as a decent forest for the sacred chase. It’s big enough for the kaia to enjoy, after all. But that became the day my parents died. Kalla and Niko’s too. And so many others.”
“That’s awful,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”
He waves a hand. “I’ve made peace with it. And the perpetrators were served an ugly fate.”
From the way his jaw flexes subtly, I’m not sure he’s as over it as he claims.
“I don’t mean to dredge up tragic histories on what should be a happy day, but I mean to explain why you might notice uncertainty and nervousness among my people while we’re traveling. It’s why we’re making this trip at a quick pace without lingering. Unfortunately, understanding the terrors we’ve overcome will be necessary to serving my people.”
“I understand completely,” I tell him earnestly. “I want to learn everything. I’ve read a little bit already but hearing it from your perspective will help me get an idea of how the Kar’Kali feel about things, instead of putting my own Earth-spin on the stories.”
“Yes, well…” He clears his throat. “Let’s leave the bloodier details for another day.”
“You should drink something,” I say, searching for a way to cut the tension. “You’ve talked yourself hoarse.”
His knuckles brush my forearm as we both reach for the water canteen. He jerks so violently to pull his hand away that I’m forced to dive for the container as it wobbles dangerously toward tipping over.
“Sorry,” he says quickly.
“Don’t worry—”
His eyes widen at the sight of my arm. “What’s happening—What have I done?”
I look down, startled. But all I see are goosebumps spreading like wildfire across my skin. It’s barely noticeable, but I have irritatingly prominent arm hair, which is currently standing on end.
“It’s completely normal for humans,” I assure him. “I’m fine.”
His twitching cheek suggests he doesn’t believe me.
“They’re called goosebumps,” I explain. “They can trigger from anything—a cold breeze, a loud sound…”
Excitement, I add in my head, knowing that if I spoke this fact aloud, it might give him the wrong idea.
“If you’re ever uncomfortable in my presence, you’ll tell me, won’t you?” With that question, the king dispenses with his easy attitude. He’s composed, and he controls conversation effortlessly, but it seems like he’s nervous underneath it all. That charms me more than any of his chivalry.
“The goosebumps aren’t because I’m uncomfortable,” I say, rubbing my skin to warm them away. “And you don’t need to worry about these minor bumps and brushes. We’re going to be in close quarters sometimes. It’s unavoidable, and I’m not made of glass. If I never push myself, I’ll never get better in any case.”
“Don’t push yourself on my account,” he says. “You have nothing to prove.”
