Whatever. I’d just have to deal with the fact that it was here.
And the fact that the walls were manned by people covered in glowing green paint.
As they lowered the bridge to come meet us, we were met by even more people I had no recollection of. I could say without a moment’s hesitation that Dad’s people had never abducted anyone with glowing green paint, or with mist-white or aquamarine-colored skin. But there they were, lining up on either side to welcome Wes’ family in. Some were even waving homemade flags or branches, or throwing down flower petals for us to walk on. The closest ones even bowed, on their knees and everything.
That was particularly confusing.
I could understand what’s-her-chest’s reaction—Guineve, her name was Guineve, and I should avoid angering her even in my mind right now—over greeting Wes’ family. He had probably rescued and helped heal her, and he definitely saved her from whatever that giant freak had wanted to do with her. It was understandable that she would be grateful enough to show Wes’ loved ones respect and personal care. And I could understand that Wes had to have done at least something to save the ex-prisoners among the crowd. I could give him credit for that. Just like I could admit that Challengers were a big deal to the people of these planets, so he would have a better reputation here than he did on Earth.
But they weren’t acting like they were welcoming the family of a popular hero.
They were acting like they were welcoming the family of their beloved king.
That…
That was too much of a stretch, I decided. Whatever gifting and kind deeds Wes Malcolm had done, he wasn’t going to get himself elected king—or emperor, or ruler, or whatever. I wasn’t trying to be mean, it was just the facts. Wes Malcolm had never taken any kind of leadership position in high school—not in sports, academics, or even one of those other stupid clubs. Not ever. Even before his injury.
Oh sure, he always worked hard. Again, I couldn’t argue with that. If there was a job or position that was needed, but no one would do because everyone knew it sucked, he was willing to do it. And before his reputation and body went to hell, he had done the same in a couple of other extra-curricular groups like drama or whatever.
But the closest he had ever come to leadership was getting people to respect him over things he’d done a handful of times—and it still wasn’t enough to bring more than a few people over to his side when Dad decided to ruin his life.
I didn’t see him, an eighteen-year-old kid, outshining the demigoddess and everyone else around as the best candidate for leadership. Especially not one involving crowns and fancy titles.
But I was clearly in the minority, and Wes had already surprised everyone but me in breaking out of prison in the first place, so I kept my mouth shut.
His mother didn’t, however, and neither did Mr. and Mrs. Brown. The sights prompted a lot of questions from the adults in the group—though Rachel and her little nerd group were too busy commenting on how cool it all was to notice, I thought.
What I noticed, though, was going to be the next little spot of drama.
Samantha and Kayla, two of the girls Dad had forced to testify against John Malcolm, were standing at the back of the crowd, holding each other’s trembling hands as they stared at the wife of the dead man they had helped to shame.
***
Wes’ Perspective
“You were right, Via,” I said, pushing my empty plate away and leaning back in the chair. “This is glorious.”
“I am glad you think so. Your Majesty,” she added with a wink.
“Your Majesty?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at the beautiful tan woman.
“But of course,” Via said, shrugging. “I intend to keep calling you things like guapo loco when we are alone, but now that we are in public, I should perhaps show you some level of decorum, since you are this planet’s monarch and savior. People will talk if I do not, and then I will have to deal with my primary body getting angry again.”
“That’s a good point,” I chuckled. She was clearly still teasing me, and I did not mind. Via was a fabulously beautiful woman to begin with, and now that her world was not only free of danger, but entering a renaissance of wealth, art, and knowledge, she was practically glowing with glory and joy. “It’s just hard for me to accept it, though,” I replied. “Several full days of rest, and people keep insisting that I have nothing to do.”
“No. Your Majesty,” Via added quickly, frowning. “That will be hard to remember to say, when I am in public with you. And no, you may not tell me to not do it, because people will think I am being disrespectful. I have spoken to your Atlantean crew. They hold your office in utmost reverence. But if it makes you feel better,” she raised her finger, “you may come up with a title for me that is slightly less lofty than what I use for talking to you. That will be a marvelous solution,” she said, satisfied.
“I suppose you are right, Dame Via,” I replied with a grin, using her earlier title, “High Stewardess of Atlantis and the Sun-Jeweled Seas. Personal Emissary of Lord Wes Malcolm.”
“You are overdoing it,” she declared, “but that only makes me more pleased. Now, what was I correcting you about?”
“Probably a number of things,” I admitted, still grinning. Now that she was relaxed, Via had a fiery playfulness that reminded me of Merada’s passion in all the best ways.
Almost all the best ways, Teeth corrected quickly. I ignored him.
“But this time, I think you were commenting on me saying that I had nothing to do.”
“Ah,” she said, raising her eyebrows in recollection. “Correct. That is wrong. I mean, that was exactly what I was talking about, and that the statement about you having nothing to do is wrong. There. Now I make sense. Anyway,” she pointed at me. “The truth is that you must specifically do nothing, Your Majesty. You must eat. You must sleep. You must do something that relaxes your mind and refreshes your soul, so that you may go into your next Challenge fresh and whole. Not only that, but your subjects must do the very same thing. I do not mean just your companions, who fight by your side. I mean the people you have just rescued. Would you tell them to go back to work immediately, to start sailing, rebuilding their homes on the islands, get some fishing done so that they can tithe part of their gains to their new Planetary Lord? Or, since they are currently safe, sheltered, and supplied, would you want them to spend some time resting their minds from the giant nightmare they had spent countless time within?”
“Taxes hadn’t even occurred to me,” I said as I blinked at her, idly wondering if I should get more food. It might have just been due to how hungry I had been when I started eating, but so far, everything we had eaten today had been delicious. Most of it had unsurprisingly been seafood, and what wasn’t had probably been in stasis for an untold number of centuries, but I had absolutely zero regrets over every dish I had decided to taste.
Especially the lobsters.
“But yeah, I figured they’d need some time off. Getting the other Icons resurrected and the fleet back up and running is a super-big priority, but we need to make sure the Atlantean crews get enough downtime to be combat-capable. So their recovery time is something we need to make the most of… which could easily apply to myself and my crew. So,” I concluded, “thank you for helping me see that, Dame Via. It’s clear that I’ll need to give you some kind of promotion, since you’re so good at your job.”