The following evening, I received word that Beau was ready for me. I said my goodbyes to Foofer, then made my way to the entrance of the palace where I was intercepted by Officer Nancy.

"Kurt, can I borrow you a second?" she asked.

I wondered if it was another come on but told her she could.

"I went through the files by my desk and found this," she handed me a manila folder, which I opened. Inside was a sketch that looked like Sean, the guy who had been with Beau last night.

"Is this him?" I asked.

She shrugged. "It could be, but it doesn't make a lot of sense."

I skimmed the information as she continued.

"The threat is supposed to be coming from Leitberg, but this guy was an Aldonian citizen," she said. "Sean Deacon, twenty-three years old, born right here in the city."

I studied it for a moment. "Prior record for petty theft," I said. "Nothing like premeditated murder on here."

Officer Nancy shrugged. "There hasn't been a murder here in decades. What I will say is, with the previous charge, he was working for someone else. I doubt he's the mastermind here. He's probably under somebody else's orders."

"So maybe he's just doing the dirty work for someone from Leitberg," I said.

"It's possible," she said.

"Any idea how he knew Beau was going to be at the club?"

"Beau goes there every night. Maybe try to stay away from there for a while."

"That's the plan."

I handed the file back and thanked her before heading back towards the entrance. When I got there, Beau was waiting patiently with a smile on his face.

"Good evening, Kurt," he said.

"Good evening," I replied.

He was up to something. He told me he wasn't going to run off again, but I knew better than to trust him. The second he saw an opportunity, he would run off. He listened to his libido rather than his sense of self-preservation. It's what happened when you grew up in a privileged life, never having to worry about anything. He'd never been punched in the face. Nobody here had. It's why they couldn't handle actual danger. They were incapable of fear.

My dad took me hunting when I was twelve years old. We entered the woods, wearing the orange camouflage, me with my Remington 700, and we stayed perfectly still. A buck approached where we were and started eating. It looked over and saw us. My dad whispered at me to line up the shot.

I was there, in the woods, looking at the buck, pointing my rifle right at his head. And he looked back at me, chewing, just standing there. He wasn't afraid. If anything, he was curious. He didn't know any better. He hadn't seen a gun before. He didn't know what it could do.

I imagine the bullet made its way through its head too quickly for him to find out.

I don't like hunting animals. Humans at least know what they're signing up for when they walk onto the battlefield. It's a fair fight, kill the other person before they kill you. Trying to kill Beau was like hunting a buck in the woods. He didn't know enough to be afraid. He wasn't even capable of feeling fear.

"Are you going to stay with me today?" I asked.

"I won't try to lose you," Beau said. He wasn't dressed as extravagantly today so he couldn't pull the same cape switch trick as the day before. In fact, his outfit was very casual, straight jeans, slip-on shoes, and a button-down shirt. He looked like he might be a student at a four-year university rather than European royalty.

He continued. "No loud music. No flashing lights. We'll take it easy tonight."

"Sounds good to me," it sounded good, but it smelled fishy. Some people trust easily, and others are warier. I fell somewhere in the middle. Rebuilding trust was tricky. As my mother used to say, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

"Out of curiosity," I asked. "Where are we going?"

He smiled. "It's somewhere where it’ll be very difficult to sneak a weapon in, I guarantee you that much."

"Right. But what kind of place is it?"

"It's a surprise, but it's such a lovely evening, I figured we'd walk," he said.

"As long as you stay close, that's fine with me."

"No problem."

He did stay close, not once trying to get away from me. I was on guard, but it wasn't necessary. It was just a leisurely stroll to wherever we were going. From the outside, it almost looked like a gym or a nail salon. There was a front desk, and a bored receptionist sitting there, filing his nails. When he saw us approach, his eyes lit up.

"Prince Beau," he said. "It's been a while! How are you doing?"

Beau leaned in and gave the man a kiss. "As well as can be expected without you, Maurice."

"Who's your friend here?"

I extended my hand to Maurice. "Kurt Thomas. It's my job to keep the Prince safe."

"Oh, my, it's quite a pleasure," Maurice said, shaking my hand.

"Is there space for us in one of the sauna rooms today?" Beau asked.

Maurice looked through his computer. "There's always room for you. I think you'll find the customers in room seven to your liking."

"Sounds good, Maurice."

He handed Beau a key.

"Locker number fifteen."

Beau took the key and led me to the locker room. "You wanted to take me to a spa?" I asked.

"It's so much more than just a spa," he said.

I looked around the locker room. Men and women removing their clothes and putting them in lockers. I supposed Aldonia didn't need separate gender locker rooms. It was hard not to stare. Aldonians had a certain look to them, a smoothness to their skin. Everyone was well groomed, both men and women.

At the same time, there was a surprisingly high amount of diversity considering the small population. If I didn't know better, I could have mistaken some Aldonians for Scots, others Kenyan, others Indian, and still others Japanese, though most looked to be of mixed origin. It was a melting pot. New York has been described similarly, but even there, different groups lived in different areas, essentially segregated, even if there wasn't a law about it.

"See anybody you like?" Beau asked.

"I'm on duty," I said.

"Suit yourself," he said. "But I can be a hell of a good wingman."

Beau began removing his clothes and I made a point of looking away.

"That's what this place is, you know," he said. "It's a place for people to come and have sex with each other away from home. Just because you haven't had a chance to clean the house, doesn't mean you shouldn't have some fun."

"Sex with no strings attached?"

"That's right, isn't it great?"

I looked around at all these people. I didn't want to judge. I wanted to remain open-minded, but I couldn't help but project. The whole thing seemed so empty to me. All these people satisfied to just know people physically for an evening, rather than get to know them over time and share their hearts together. It wasn't for me.

I shook my head. "I can't have sex with someone unless I have an emotional connection," I said. "It would feel so empty to me."

"Suit yourself," he said as he put on a robe. "You coming?"

"I'm ready whenever you are."

He looked at me. "No, you're not," he pointed to a sign on the wall.

Spa Rules

1. No clothing may be worn inside any of the saunas.

2. Respect others.

3. Confine all sexual activity to private rooms.

He read rule number one to me. "No clothing may be worn inside any of the saunas."

"I'm not participating," I said. "I'm just standing guard."

"Rules are rules. You can wait outside if you want. I think I should be pretty safe inside."

I looked around at all the naked people and realized I stood out like a sore thumb.

"Yeah, you go on ahead," I said.

"You sure? I thought you wanted to stay close," he was teasing me. He specifically came here to make me feel uncomfortable. It was working.

"I'll be close," I said. "I'll join you in a minute."

"Okay," he said. "Room seven."

I nodded.

The locker room and casual nudity got me thinking about what Windfra was saying the other night. The civil war would have ended differently if the soldiers weren't attracted to each other. But it seemed like physical attraction wasn't the same to Aldonians.

Jane was blonde, thin, five-foot-nine. Absolutely beautiful. Nobody in the room looked like her. I remember in college the sororities, where the goal was uniformity. Everybody dyed their hair blonde, wore matching outfits. And they were all beautiful.

It was nothing like that here. There was no uniformity. Everyone was a different size, color, and age. Men and women weren't separated. And, yet, I got a hint of the feeling of what Windfra had been saying. These people were all individuals, they all had stories, and they all looked different. I didn't know that I'd say all of them were beautiful, but there was something special about each of them.

I caught myself looking at one man with pale, smooth skin. Almost feminine. He was naked and I could tell he was a man, but his soft lips and intense eyes would be beautiful on a woman. And, at that moment, I noticed they were beautiful on him, too.

He smiled at me and waved. I became self-conscious and looked away. I looked down the hallway and saw Beau exit through the doors.

It was time for me to get to work.

Back in the military, they provided us with paper-thin GPS locators. We'd plant them on people, places, or objects that we wanted to track, calling it "tagging." These tags could fit anywhere and had enough power supply to last up to a month. At the time, they were top secret tech, but since then they'd become available on the open market, although a bit pricy. I bought one in anticipation of this job. The trick was figuring out where to put it.

Beau had left his wristwatch in his locker. It was the only thing he kept with him consistently and this was one of the few times he'd removed it. I’d brought a small screwdriver set with me in my pocket. I took it out and unscrewed the back of the watch.

I slid the tag into the watch, removing the small piece of tape, which activated the device, then replaced the back. I pulled out my phone, syncing it to the tag and saw a red dot appear on the map. The precision of these things wasn't perfect, but it still locked down the location to a twenty-foot radius. I couldn't use it to find where Beau was in a club, but I could figure out which club he'd gone to.

At any rate, he was effectively tagged. Good luck trying to lose me now.

I removed my clothes, folded them, and placed them in the locker, which I closed behind me. I grabbed a robe from the wall along with some slippers and walked down the hall into room seven.