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gentle cascade of sunlight trickled onto Laila from the glass dome overhead, enhancing her skin’s natural glimmer. Laila reclined her head against the edge of her rose quartz tub with a satisfied sigh, swathed in a luxurious soak of coconut milk, raw honey and dried rose petals. Her hair was bundled in a pink silk tignon after being extensively moisturised with gardenia-infused coconut oil and left to steep.

She pointed a finger at a gilt bowl of strawberries on an end table, enchanting them with aether to rise up, dip into the sauce dish of warm white chocolate, and swiftly make its way towards her to take a bite out of.

While she bathed, Aurora, one of her starlet protégées, arrived to remove her tignon and cleanse her hair with aloe vera.

“Help yourself to a strawberry if you’d like, Aurora,” Laila offered with her eyes still closed. She knew Aurora wouldn’t simply take one out of dedication to her training, but Laila liked to think of herself as a lax mistress—so far in contrast to her own, who had been near draconian in her demands.

“Thank you, madame,” Aurora replied, graciously enchanting a strawberry to dip into the chocolate with relish. After the cleanse, she rinsed Laila’s hair with a porcelain jug of fermented rice water into the matching basin and left it once more to steep.

It had been a couple of weeks now since her last wash and it remained an arduous affair. Her hair was a beast of its own nature; a thick, luxuriant, near untameable mass of spirals that demanded much moisture and maintenance.

Laila crooked a finger to beckon another fruit. “How are your studies?”

“Well,” Aurora replied, taking a bite of strawberry. “Madame Cigne has us learning some new sprite folk songs in preparation for the Fête des Lumières. I shall be playing the harp.”

“It’s a wonder the Fête will soon be upon us!” Laila exclaimed, one knee rising to reveal a rosy brown leg covered in petals. “Where has the time gone?”

“I’ve once heard it said that the older one gets the faster it goes,” Aurora said, while rinsing the rice water from Laila’s hair. “Until it almost seems no time has passed at all when in reality, you’ve blinked away half a mortal’s life.”

Laila frowned. At twenty-eight, she was straddling the brink of both life-states: young enough to see things with mortal eyes and the assuredness of an eternal life ahead. It still unnerved her to think of how far ahead her years had yet to span; to think she might one day become one of those white-eyed elders who concealed themselves from public scrutiny so as not to blind the mortals who were foolish enough to look upon them.

Laila rose up from the tub. “Well, I believe I’ve soaked enough. Pass me a towel.”

Aurora swaddled her in white cotton before escorting Laila back into her boudoir. She had just sat down at her sinuously sculpted gilt oak and marble vanity when Lyra entered.

“We have a problem,” her guard declared.

“What is it?” Laila asked, catching Lyra’s furrowed brow in the mirror as Aurora towel-dried her hair.

“Dr Isuka has arrived to seek an audience with you.” Lyra’s frown deepened, the amber dawn staining her eyes pink. “She fears the Great Northern may not return from the voyage.”

Laila regarded this with a slight tinge of dread. “It has been eight weeks since they set sail.”

“And not a word has been heard from them since they left Odakan territory,” Lyra said, pert lips set into a thin line. “There could be reason to be concerned.”

Aurora pumped an argan oil and rosewater mousse into her hands to condition Laila’s curls. She took advantage of its dampness to braid it into a halo, securing the tail end with hairpins.

Laila watched Aurora fluff out her braid, sticking pearl hairpins in for décor. “Thank you, Aurora.” She pet the starlet’s wrist and pivoted around on her stool. “Where is Dr Isuka now?”

“Awaiting an audience in the salon.”

Laila scrunched her lips to one side. “Give me time to get dressed and I shall see to this. In the meantime, you keep her occupied.”

“As you wish.” Lyra bent her head. Then she turned towards the exit.

Laila’s stomach knotted in her absence. She hadn’t known when to expect the return of the ship but for them to be gone for so long with little insight to their whereabouts… She forced herself not to assume the worst as she sent Aurora to pick out her dress.

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Dr Isuka stared vacantly into her cup of jasmine tea, watching the flower blossom. Each time she felt a pang of thirst she was unable to see anything but Hariken’s large, round eyes when she’d told her to go to the sanatorium. If only I’d kept her there.

“The princess ought to be along soon,” Lyra said, watching as Dr Isuka slid her hands into her hair.

The tea had been her suggestion—a futile salve she’d pilfered from Laila’s own repertoire of social cues. She’d never been too adept at handling distress. Or civilians in general. The way Laila did it always made it seem effortless and Lyra now envied her skill at being able to weave pretty words like adornments into the gaps of silence.

Finally, the doors opened and the princess entered in a blue wool morning gown.

“Thank goodness,” Dr Isuka exclaimed, springing up to her feet. “It’s good to see you, Your Radiance.”

“Dr Isuka,” Laila greeted, noticing the scholar’s features had taken a gaunt turn. “You don’t look well.”

“Oh, I haven’t been able to sleep since—” Her voice trailed, as though she truly sought to remember. “Well, never mind that. I must speak with you at once.”

“But of course,” Laila said with a nod, “please, tell me what ails you.”

“Last holy day I went to my temple in order to pray for the Great Northern’s safe passage. That was when I decided to procure the services of one of the astrologists there in order to give me further insight.” Dr Isuka smoothed her pleated trousers with broad, rhythmic strokes. “I gave her Dr Hariken’s date of birth and she said—”

“What?” Lyra leaned forward in curiosity.

Dr Isuka swallowed. “She said Dr Hariken had gone beyond the veil, to a place the gods have forsaken, and thus she was too far beyond the reach of any starsight.”

“Beyond the veil?” Lyra arched one translucent brow. “You mean—”

“We cannot know for certain.” Laila cut her off mid-sentence, knowing the fatal conclusion she would draw. Horoscopes and other such divine forecasts could have many interpretations. Though the one Dr Isuka spoke of suggested nothing good.

“But regardless, you can at least agree that such a forecast holds ill fortune?” Dr Isuka pleaded, bug-eyed with desperation.

Laila resisted the urge to nibble on her lip. If she showed any signs of uncertainty then it would only increase Isuka’s panic. She wouldn’t allow any of them to see their princess without her steady poise.

“Your Radiance, I beseech you to take this sign for what it is and allow me another voyage so that I might go in search of her.”

“Dr Isuka, don’t be absurd,” Laila said, raising up her hands as though to soothe the scholar from her wild temper. “If this forecast does speak of ill fortune then the last thing I want to do is send you to meet the same fate.”

“If not you then I’ll find someone who will!” Dr Isuka bit back, too overcome by rage to remember her standing. “You cannot ask me to sit here and do nothing. I refuse it. I should never have let her go alone. I should’ve—”

Her face crumpled and her hands hurried to shield the arrival of her sobs. She couldn’t decide what she found more mortifying—that she had not wept since she was a girl or that she was about to do so for the first time in years in the presence of a solarite.

Laila did not move to embrace her, sensing the scholar would consider it an affront to her pride. Instead, she took a napkin from the tea set and held it out to her.

“Thank you,” Dr Isuka said, grabbing the napkin to dry her cheeks.

“Dr Isuka.” Laila’s voice was soft as fleece. “Please hear me. I cannot allow you to go on this journey you seek but that does not mean I intend to do nothing. I promise you, we will find Dr Hariken and escort her home to you safely.”

“How do you know?” Dr Isuka asked, dabbing her eyes with the napkin.

Laila sucked in a deep breath. Should anything have happened to the ship she knew she would be held personally responsible not only by her mother but in the eyes of society. Thus she would need a grand gesture to show she was earnest in her desire to be accountable.

“Because I will go personally to ensure it.”

Dominus tore free a cutlet of his morning meal and gnawed with relish, his large canines shredding through it like paper. To keep him docile, the nurses would continually offer him large servings of meat—beef, mutton, pork, even venison if he was particularly fortunate. Today’s offering was a sacrificial lamb rack dipped in harissa and pomegranate molasses.

It didn’t quite satiate him as it would have had the kill been fresh and writhing between his teeth, but it would certainly do for now. The meat here was always tender and of good cutting, vibrant with flavour.

After stripping the bone of meat he then chewed his way down into the marrow until he was satisfied he’d devoured the last of it. Then he tossed the bone to his tray.

Immediately, an orderly arrived to check him for pieces, taking care to flash his weapon before he took the tray away. It never failed to amuse Dominus how carefully they trod around him, always alert for newer tricks.

He still remembered the first time the nurses had become alert to his original mounting bone collection. They’d tried to take it away and Dominus had rewarded their efforts by turning one of their cheeks to dangling strips of ribbon with his extended claws. The nurse he’d struck fully healed, in the end. Not even a paltry scar remained to mark his dominance.

Since then, they kept themselves armed with amaranthum batons that never failed to irradiate him into compliance.

Dominus watched as the orderly carried the tray through the doorway to freedom and sat back with a sigh. Then he reached for his sketchpad and charcoals and started to outline a new sketch.

Over time, he’d created many pictures—grand, sprawling reimaginings of black beaches, unruly overgrown forests, and icy tundras, all carefully depicted in crosshatch and shadow. They were joined by strange creatures. Eerie, nightmarish figures that haunted the mind—six-legged beasts with heads full of tentacles, tigers with overlapping faces, stalking silhouettes with chests for mouths.

There were pictures of Laila too, sprinkled among the other pieces. More than perhaps there ought to have been. The thought of her face consumed him and though Dominus knew he could not touch her, he at least wanted to commit a piece of her to paper to sustain him through the absences. His hand lingered on his most recent piece of her as he wondered when she’d return. At least the staff tended to treat him better when she was around to witness.

Not as soon as the thought emerged did he catch a whiff of her scent in the hallway. The light pitter patter of her footsteps on the cold, polished floors. She was not alone and he soon recognised the additional scent of the doctor she was with. The mortal who’d conversed with him after his awakening.

Well, this will be interesting, he thought as the door opened once more to usher them in.

“How unexpected for you to bestow me once more with your presence, mortal,” Dominus declared, his mouth crooked into a wry smile. “Am I to understand you simply favour me so well?”

Dr Isuka sucked in an impatient breath as she regarded the occassi. It had been her last desire to be faced with this creature again and being so close in proximity with one of Calante’s own creations filled her with an unreasonable odium. She at once wanted to rip the air from his lungs until he was red-faced and pleading.

She saw the irrational impulse for what it was, however, and instead conducted herself with the composure the princess commanded.

“It is with most urgency that I call upon you,” Dr Isuka said, “for my sovereign desires to travel to the land from which you hail.”

That had him laughing; a dry, hollow sound like the crunch of gravel underfoot.

“What amuses you?” Dr Isuka demanded to know, dark eyes flashed in anger.

“In truth, it is that I’ve never seen one so eager to embrace death,” Dominus replied, glancing over at the princess. “And you will die, Glowing One, should you be so foolish enough to step foot on my lands.”

Laila set her jaw firmly, his mockery grating on her fraying nerves. Though she still had little knowledge of his tongue, she had pilfered some over the months with Dr Isuka’s tutelage. “Ask him to tell us what might have happened to the ship.”

Dr Isuka repeated the request.

“You demand a great deal and yet offer nothing.” Dominus spread his arms wide as though beckoning an audience. “Pray tell me why I ought to aid you while dooming myself to rot forevermore within these white walls.”

“It is your way to barter, yes? Then let us barter.” Dr Isuka stared at him hard. “Knowledge of your lands in exchange for a more accommodating cell.”

Dominus’ eyes narrowed. “Do you believe me witless? That I would yield to such inequitable terms?”

“Should he have a better offer I’d love to hear it.” Laila folded her arms together in expectation.

“Set your terms, occassi,” Dr Isuka told him, “and make haste.”

Dominus took some moments to consider his words. “Tell your sovereign I am willing to lend my services to her impetuous mission. Let my strength become her strength. My wisdom, her wisdom. I will become both the sword and the shield which she may use to strike and defend—if only you unleash me from these wretched binds. This I vow. Allow me to set foot once more on the black sands of Mortos and I shall deliver you there with nary a curl rustled.”

Dr Isuka imparted the message to Laila who turned to look at Dominus, eyes uncertain. To have his aid would be invaluable and yet she knew she could not trust his word alone. She stepped forward to take his arm, almost gently. Then she infused it with illuminating light.

“Tell me the truth,” Laila commanded, as tendrils of steam arose from the place where she touched him.

Dominus grunted through gritted teeth, the light compelling his tongue to honesty. “The truth is there is no one better to defend you than I and you’d both be foolish to deny it. I have no intent to lead you astray, nor steer you to harm, for your destination is my only desire—” Dominus faltered, suppressing a groan, “—and a word from an occassi is more binding than a pact between a mortal and their grave, I pledge you that.”

Laila looked towards Dr Isuka who nodded before she released him. “Tell him I shall take his offer into consideration.”

With that, she stepped back and pivoted on her heel towards the exit.

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That same morning in the Superna, Amira was preparing for breakfast. This morning’s bounty offered sun-dried tomatoes sprinkled with lavender, quail eggs trivette and goat cheese stuffed hibiscus flowers. A separate dish of beignets steamed in the centre of the table and a bottle of white peach juice and sparkling esterre wine had been left to cool in a gold bucket of ice, stencilled with the Soleterean rose.

Laila caught the wafting aroma the moment she entered and it stirred a hunger deep enough to offset the anxious nausea she felt.

“Well, look who’s early today,” Amira commented, her beestung lips broadening into a rare smile. “Come, sit. Don’t let it go cold.”

“Breakfast looks lovely today, Maman,” came Laila’s early morning chirrup as she seated herself at the table and unfolded a napkin into her lap. She ran her tongue over her lips in anticipation as she reached over the table for a beignet. Her mother’s dour stare halted her mid-pursuit. She had never been a dainty eater when it comes to beignets, and her mother had never shied from making her displeasure clear.

Laila retracted her hand from the table and picked up a hibiscus flower instead.

Amira’s beignet remained untouched and Laila’s gaze lingered with a rather lustful intensity on the golden pastry buried beneath a snowcap of sugar. She wondered if her mother had laid it out on purpose just to torment her.

Laila twiddled the flower between her fingers before clearing her throat. “While we have a moment to ourselves, Maman. I was hoping to discuss something with you.”

“Go on,” Amira said, compelling the bottle to open and fill two flutes while she waited for her daughter.

“Well,” Laila swallowed as she watched the froth rise to a peak. Truly, there could be no more fitting analogy for her nerves. “The Great Northern has not yet returned home from its voyage and we have received little correspondence from its crew or passengers. Dr Isuka has therefore come to expect there may be some foul play involved.”

“Hm,” Amira acknowledged, taking a sip from her flute. “That does sound troublesome. How long has it been since the voyage set sail?”

“Eight weeks,” Laila said, after eating her hibiscus, “and the last we’d heard from them was when the ship passed Kumori.”

Amira took a sip of her beverage to digest this. “If they’ve ventured far north to reach the White Sea, this will not have been the first vessel to have been lost to its waters.”

“I am aware,” Laila said, cutting herself a portion of trivette. “But it is the first voyage I myself have chartered and thus I feel responsible for its wellbeing. It doesn’t reflect well on us to ignore the vessel’s disappearance. There are the families of the passengers to consider—the crew. The humans look to us as symbols of protection and guidance, Maman. They will expect me to act.”

“I suppose you are correct,” Amira said, helping herself to a hibiscus. “Still I am curious what it is you expect me to do.”

“Allow me to send a unit of Lightshield chevaliers to track the vessel,” Laila said, hastening to add, “I will not require many. Merely a handful. And I think it would look better if I am the one leading the charge.”

“The valiant solarite princess embarks on a perilous voyage to rescue her missing ship,” Amira said, swishing the words around on her tongue as though to sample their bouquet. “It has decent narrative potential, I’ll give you that. Though I will expect you to have Lyra and Léandre close at hand to keep you out of trouble.”

“Of course!” Laila said, her chest flaring with exhilaration. “I will merely exist as a figurehead—an embodiment of the Crown itself! I promise to stay well out of harm’s way and allow the chevaliers to perform their duties.”

Her mother stared at her with the nebulous irises of all solarites—patterned with fragments of infinite stars and space matter. “Then I will allow it.”

“Oh, thank you, Maman! You are gracious!” Laila sprung out of her seat with a rosy gaiety as she rushed to embrace her.

“Laila,” Amira warned. “Not at the table.”

“Oh, of course.” Laila deflated immediately, arms lowering to her sides. “I beg your pardon, Maman.”

Amira made a dismissive gesture in response.

“Though there is just… one other thing I might request of you, Maman,” Laila said sheepishly, lip bitten between her teeth.

“Oh?” Amira set her glass down. “And what is that?”