An Imperfect Princess (14 page)

But terms for
science and for health were lacking.  For all she knew, the term for “blood
sugar” could be just that.  Or perhaps they called it glycemic levels.  Or
perhaps they had no term for it at all.  Lathlian only retained the use of the
term because it was a common genetic defect among their people, although it
would be corrected quite early in a pregnancy with the aid of Pharinae
geneticists who were comfortable tinkering with the chromosomes.

Primitive worlds
are so... primitive, Eneria thought with a sigh. 

Despite this,
she gathered an awareness of a deep intelligence and thoughtfulness from these
people.  The theory of civilizations projected that they would be doing
rudimentary space travel in less than 200 years, but she suspected that they’d
hit it within closer to the 100 year mark.  Even though they had no flying
machines yet, she had seen the technology in the earl’s lab.  They weren’t that
far off from learning to defy gravity and fly like birds through their
atmosphere.

She had inquired
about his education during the meal, and he mentioned he had gone to school at an
institution called Cambridge, although she didn’t quite gather what the purpose
of his education had been other than he had been excellent at mathematics. 
Whatever he had learned there, he had kept up correspondence with old friends,
who sent him letters and samples of their work in their respective fields.  She
sensed that among them, many breakthroughs in thought were at their
fingertips.  She also noticed a melancholy tone when he spoke of them.  He
missed them.

The words for
many facets of technology didn’t existing in the language yet, but soon they
would.

“The modiste is
here,” Mitsy said, popping into Clarissa’s room.  “Wilkins is showing them up
right now.”

Clarissa
composed herself admirably, sucking in her breath and putting a calm, slightly
bored expression on her face.  She would have been a marvelous actress.

It turned out the
modiste was not one person, but a whole team led by a designer.  He swooped in
with a bevy of seamstresses, with tools and patterns and bolts of cloth. 
Eneria wanted to escape and work in the lab, but James apparently had other
plans for her.

“Lady Eneria,
the earl has informed us of your terrible tragedy,” one of the seamstresses
said, sitting her down and starting to take measurements.  “Or should I say, Your
Highness.”  She looked a little abashed. “He has agreed to cover your expenses
for a full season wardrobe along with Miss Clarissa in exchange for your being
her companion for the season.”  The Londoner winked.  “I think the two of you
together will be the talk of the town
,
but on the other hand, you don’t
want to outshine Lady Clarissa on her debut.” 

The designer
himself was delighted with Eneria’s old bridesmaid dress, although he decided
the color was too bold.  He took the base design and made a few alterations and
color changes to paler shades for Clarissa.  As for Eneria, he determined that
her seal brown hair and “continental complexion” would do better in royal reds,
emeralds, and purples. 

After a week – a
very expensive week, Eneria guessed – of constant measurement, cutting,
trying-ons, and adjustments, she had six serviceable gowns, and both she and
Clarissa had several dozen more on order.  They would be ready in London, the capitol
city where they would be going for the “Season” in a month.

Eneria hadn’t
seen James all week, except at meals.  They kept their conversation light,
without any of the intimacy of that last breakfast.  She realized he probably
made a mistake in kissing her and wanted her to forget it.

But she couldn’t. 
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the feel of his arms around
her, the shock of his lips.

So this is what
Vaz felt like with Seth, she mused, as she slipped into his study wearing one
of her new gowns, a lovely morning dress in a dark plum color.  It was time to
resume work on her transmitter. She had been denied access to her lab for a
whole week, and she was getting frustrated at the delay. She knocked and was
summoned in.

“My lord, good
afternoon,” she said, resisting the urge to curtsy.  She had learned from
Clarissa and the dressmakers that, although she was deposed, as a princess she
ranked quite a bit above the earl, and therefore it was not appropriate for her
to curtsy to anyone other than those of her rank or higher.  A nod of
acknowledgment was enough.  Then again, half the staff still thought he was
humoring a barking mad commoner who knocked her head during the shipwreck.

“The new
wardrobe is quite fetching,” he said, raising one eyebrow.  “And properly
fitting.”

She grinned back
at him. “I haven’t worn truly nice clothes in years... everything I had went
into the ship.”  She dropped gracefully into the chair before him.  “When you
said that the gems I had were valuable here, I had no idea.”  She put her chin
in her hands.  “I suppose it’s because you have never mined
off
your
planet, in the asteroids.  Many of the metals, such as gold and platinum, are
much easier to mine in space, where you can blow up the chunks of rock and then
just pick through the remains.”  She fingered the black opal pendant that was
around her neck.  “And many jewels can be made in a lab. But the best stones
come from planets, where geologic forces can shape them.  Opals do not form on
worlds without liquid water, for example, so a stone like this is greatly
prized on Lathlor, whereas the diamonds and sapphires and rubies and emeralds
are all considered common.” 

“A stone like
that is greatly prized here, as well.”  James drummed his fingers on the desk,
and she caught him looking at the pendant–or perhaps her bosom.  She had been
amused the prior week when he noticed her about to ooze out from the
ill-fitting gown before. “The only one I have seen like it was presented to the
Empress Josephine, and I’m sure it’s since been seized by the new French
Republic.”

Enny wasn’t sure
who those people were.  She was able to communicate fairly well now, but she
was still sorely lacking in history on this world.  If she was going to pretend
she was from this “continent” while in London, maybe she should join Marilyn in
her lessons.

But first things
first.

“I’d like to
resume work on the amplifier.”  She looked at her nails, trying not to appear
anxious.  He had shown her nothing but kindness since he had taken her in.  And
here she was trying to leave him.  But she
couldn’t
stay here forever. 
“I’d like to send the message to my cousin Vaz before we leave for London.”

“Of course,” he
said.  “I am free this afternoon, if you would like to start today.”

“Oh yes,
please,” she said.  “I know exactly what I need and how to make it.”

She was, James
mused, a conundrum.

Under Clarissa’s
expert tutelage, she had learned the manner and bearing of a lady from the
English
ton
.  He suspected she had known most of it before, from the
court where she grew up, but it had taken just a little polishing and now she
shone like a diamond in her own right.  Her new gown was perfectly fitted,
unlike that hand-me-down from Mitsy she had started with, and the color was a
deep burgundy, which actually played down the alien bluish tones in her hair
and brought out more of the burnished red-brown tones.  Her hair was like an opal
in that respect, he decided.  It looked plain and uninteresting until it moved,
and then the play of color from the lights made you notice the strange hints of
ice.  She had said it was all just a trick of the light; the structure of the
keratin in her hair occasionally reflected blue light and absorbed all the
others.

And now, this
picture of a perfect English lady flitted about his laboratory, the sanctuary
of a man, and issued instructions to him as if he were nothing more than her
assistant.

He humored her,
if for no other reason than by keeping him busy, she was preventing him from
ravishing her on the spot.  Even a week away from her had not erased the memory
of her lips against his from his mind, and the silky feeling of those perfect teeth
against his tongue.

She had attached
pedals to the front wheel of the velocipede, a gear set, and crank and shaft to
the back.  The addition of a belt to connect the two created a human powered
dynamo.  The belt turned a series of copper coils around each other, which
generated a charge, which she claimed she could harness.

The contraption
was hooked to two large jars of auger and chemicals, which she called a
“capacitor” (a word that James had had to look up–she had grown to be
better
than a native speaker in only a week).

The capacitor
was attached to her calculating machine and a large arrangement of copper wires
she had set up around the window.  She called it an “antennae,” another word
that James had been surprised to learn she knew and could apply to an apparatus
he had never seen. 

The fairy was
forced to sit on top of the copper wires, wearing a miserable look on her
face.  Apparently she was the one who was actually channeling the energy from
the calculating machine into the antennae.

He found himself
in the undignified position of having to pedal the velocipede while she tapped
at her laptop.  He was a little disconcerted when the capacitors started to
crackle with energy.

“I’m connected!”
she shouted joyfully over the din of her machines.

“That’s good!”
he shouted back, pedaling furiously. 

She typed away
just as furiously at the machine, her face blanching at one point, causing him
to wonder what had happened.  But she gritted her teeth and talked with the
machine with determination and after about ten minutes, she closed it down.

“You can stop
now,” she called, and he did so gratefully, wheezing a bit.  He was only twenty
five years old; there was no reason for him to be so tired after that kind of
exertion.  He ought to get more regular exercise, he supposed.  His lusty mind
pictured exactly the kind of exercise he wanted, involving a certain mad
princess and his bed.  She was a quick study; he suspected she’d learn that
fast as well.

“So your message
went through?” he asked, turning those thoughts away.  She nodded and bit her
lip, looking like a confused child.

“Both ways.  I
received a warning message from my cousin Vaz. The Konkastians have tripled the
bounty on my head.  They somehow know I’m still alive.”  She looked like she
was about to cry, the first time he had seen her lose that general confidence
she normally exuded.  But then she got herself under control.  He suspected she
never let herself actually go through with the crying, and he had a small
grudging respect for her.  Too many women relied on their tears to get their
way. “I shouldn’t have sent the message at all.  Now they can trace me here.”

“Trace you?”

She nodded. 
“Vaz and I both use an old Lathlian code, so the message itself cannot be
understood.  But they can detect my calculating machine and eventually trace
the registration codes on it to me.”  She bit her lip again, frustrated.  “In
our local neighborhood, I could hook into another network through Perihelion
and disguise myself, but with this crude booster, I didn’t have enough time.”

The lab smelled
of ozone.  The capacitors crackled.

“But you sent
your message anyway.” 

“Yes,” she said,
her shoulders slumping in defeat.  “If Vaz can do anything to save me, she
will.  My mother probably won’t want her to, though.”  She sighed, and he saw
her regain control of herself.  “No matter.  From here on out, it’s a waiting
game.  Either Vaz or the Konkastians will find me first.  I pray it’s the
former.”

James wanted to
hold her, to embrace her and promise he would protect her, but both ideas were
silly.  She was involved in something that went beyond his scope of reality,
and he didn’t even know how he could possibly protect her.  But she looked so
vulnerable, he felt he had to do something, or say something.  Or perhaps that
was his lust talking again. He was having a hard time telling them apart these
days.

“Until then, I
have nothing more I can do,” she continued, sighing once more.  “Oh, and we’ll
also want to hide my ship.  On the beach as it is, it’s a prime target.  It
just needs to go indoors somewhere; although a lead blanket on top of it would
provide the best protection.”

“How can they
find you?” he asked, taking a few steps forward.  “No one knows you crashed
here, from what you’ve told me.”

“They can scan
the electronic components and certain substances from thousands of miles away,
probably as far as away as your moon.  They can find me by my blood as well,
although they’d have to detect that through much closer contact.”

“What do you
mean, your blood?”  He picked up one of her hands, looking at the delicate
veins visible through the thin skin at her wrist.  “Don’t tell me your blood is
actually blue, too.”

“No, it’s red.
Iron-based, like yours.” She took a step toward him as well, and with her free
hand, offered herself for his perusal.  “Look at me. 
Truly
look at me. 
I’m not human, as you call yourselves.”  She held open her palms, and he looked
closely at them.  The folds of her palms were different from any he had ever
seen.   “Anatomically, we are similar.  But below the surface, we are
completely, absolutely different.”  She turned toward Aijo, who was lazing in a
sunbeam on the copper antennae. “Aijo, can you do a rough guess at our genetic
compatibility?”

The fairy perked
her head up in response to her name and was quiet for a moment.  James realized
she was scrutinizing them; she flickered softly, processing information. 
Eneria had told him that Aijo could think many times faster than a human being.