“So, what do you think this means?”

I looked over to Edie. She was sitting in a puffy purple armchair with her legs tucked up beneath her, her arms wrapped around her knees. It was like she was imitating a cat, or perhaps a baby in the womb. I supposed it was a form of stress management, so I didn't bother to comment.

“I don't think I understand your question.”

“You know,” she said, gesturing absently with one of her hands. “Do you think we will be transferred to another colony? I think there are four kingdoms now with colonies or, maybe, we’ll be sent back to Earth altogether. Maybe there's just not enough room for us to be dispersed across Albaterra and they need time to build more colonies.”

A flash of anger surged through me. I turned an indignant gaze onto Edie and asked, “Are you kidding? The leader of this kingdom has just died, in our presence, I might add, and you are concerned about what's going to happen to you?”

She shifted in her seat and shrugged. “We’re nurses, Phoebe. People die in and out of our presence every day. If we became emotional after every death, we wouldn't be able to do our job. Besides, I don't mean it to sound callous, but just because someone’s life ends, it doesn't mean ours does too. We still need to have some place to stay and food to eat and everything.”

Part of me wanted to blast her for being so cold-hearted, but another part of me knew better. Edie was right. The thing about being a nurse I had always found most difficult was detaching myself from my patients and their families. When car crash victims were rushed in with great gashes or missing limbs, I became emotionally entrenched in their battle to survive. When they didn't make it and their families were pacing the waiting room, desperate for news, I often found myself crying with them as I told them their loved one had moved on. I hadn't known Elder Kharid, but I felt the grief rising up from the city of Ka-lik’et, and a piece of me grieved with it.

“I guess I don't know what's going to happen,” I said, deciding not to scold Edie for being tactless. “Maybe they'll name a new Elder, and we'll just stay here.”

Now that I was thinking about it, I realized I didn't want to be relocated somewhere else. I didn't want to return to Earth, to Ohio, either. I wanted to stay in Dhal’at and continue my work in the infirmary, even if it meant sharing a clay bubble hut with Edie for an indefinite amount of time. She was somewhat of a privileged girl who had only taken a job in nursing because her father had insisted she had a career if she wished to see her trust fund. It was also my understanding she had only joined the colonist expedition to Albaterra because her boyfriend at the time had volunteered, and she didn’t want to break up. However, we had somehow made a friendship. She was by no means an overachiever in her bedside manner, nor was she exceptionally knowledgeable in basic health and wellness as a good nurse should have been. Nevertheless, she was not completely incompetent, and it was both our status as roommates and our titles as life savers that drew us close. I couldn't imagine returning to Earth and trying to reconnect with the friends I had left behind, and I certainly couldn't imagine being transferred to another colony and forced to start all over again.

“You know,” Edie pointed out, “we never did find out why we were supposed to go to the palace in the first place.”

“No, I guess we didn't,” I murmured distractedly.

“Do you think it had anything to do with that Novai?” she asked. She had a habit of asking me questions I often didn't know the answers to, but I tended to humor her and this time was no different.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I kind of hope it wasn't. I’m not exactly fond of the Novai.”

She unfolded her legs and kicked them out before her on top of a coffee table made of some kind of wood I had not yet been able to identify, though it was much yellower than any Earth-wood I had ever seen. “Why not?” she asked me curiously.

I shrugged. I wasn't in the mood to discuss my tastes--or lack thereof--for alien races. Although, on that topic, I had found myself very distracted since returning to the colony with thoughts of a particular alien, and they were not the kind of thoughts I had often distracted myself with before.

After Kharid had taken his final breath, I had done everything I could to resuscitate the Elder. There was nothing that could be done though, and, when the A’li-uud healer arrived, he agreed. It was then that Zuran disappeared. I wanted to go after him, but the healer was bombarding me with question after question about what I had done to attempt to save Kharid’s life. As this was a death of magnitude, both politically and socially, I was obligated to offer a witness statement of the event as well as a recounting of any and all medical action I had taken. Apparently, much like human royalty, Elders had healers devoted only to them and their family. I was the first and only non-official medical personnel to tend Kharid during his long reign, which made me both a person of honor and a person of suspicion.

The other nurses were permitted to return to the colony before I was. They were escorted by several guards, though no more than one was actually necessary, while I remained behind to answer questions from a number of Dhal’atian military officials. When they’d finished, I expected I had done my duty, and my role in the horrific event was over, but I was informed that I would likely be called upon to speak in front of the Council to present a witness testimony. Then, I was offered an escort of my own and, rather than taking me back to the infirmary, I was brought to my hut. I didn't see Zuran anywhere on the way, which was noteworthy because he was almost always stalking the streets with his cocky grin and confident swagger. Now, in the comfort of my home, I wondered if Kharid’s death had affected him more than I’d originally thought, and I wished I knew where he resided so I could go find out and offer my condolences.

A knock sounded on the door, an unusual sound in the colony and one I had nearly forgotten since leaving Earth and coming to Albaterra. For the most part, knocking had become obsolete. Houses in the Ka-lik’et colony didn’t necessitate knocking as the windows were just artfully-shaped holes in the walls with operational shutters to block out the elements as needed. This meant visitors could just call out to the residents inside rather than knocking and waiting for the door to open to announce their presence. In some ways, it eroded the concept of privacy, but it was also more convenient and a cultural norm. I had grown so used to it that the knock startled me.

Edie started to get to her feet, but I waved her back down and stood myself. I trudged across the limestone-style floor and realized I was more tired than I thought. My muscles ached, and my joints protested. I felt sixty-five rather than twenty-five.

Swinging the door open, I came face-to-face with an A’li-uud quite unlike those I was used to seeing. Even in the darkness of night, I could see his skin with shimmery jade rather than the rich, royal blue popular around Dhal’at. His hair was as silver as the moon in contrast to the pearlescent locks of Zuran and the other desert aliens, and, while Zuran was by no means wimpy in build, this particular A’li-uud made him look like a prepubescent boy.

“I have been told you are Phoebe Morris,” he said in English. All A’li-uud spoke English with clipped syllables and blunt ends to their words, but this A’li-uud speech was so staccato I could hardly understand him. I stared at his lips for a long moment before finally understanding what he’d said.

“Yes, I am.”

“I need you to come with me,” he commanded without hesitation. His fingers shot forward and curled around my wrist. “Immediately.”