The Midnight Sun

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3Cove

Nothing felt right. The man next to him hardly acknowledged his existence. After Ciaran stormed out, his parents encouraged him to give his betrothed patience and affection. Yet, no one spoke to him on the lavish airship. Cove stood at the entrance. It was not a ship as much as it was a home. Sofas, tables, and even a bed filled the carrier.

“The one we arrived in was not this nice,” Cove noted, his eyes still puffy from crying when he bid farewell to his parents.

The crew was dressed in royal gold and bowed to the prince and his family.

Nothing he had seen before was as lavish as this space. Gold and silver ornaments hung from the walls next to portraits of rich people he had read about in history. Ciaran remained silent. Astrid and the other man Ciaran had brought with him sat on the sofa, eyeing him. His match sat on a bed. Ciaran pulled a yellow blanket over himself.

“I’m not comfortable joining you in bed…especially in front of your family,” Cove said. He was uncertain where he was expected to sit.

Ciaran gaped at him as if he had done something wrong. The prince grumbled, pushing a button on the bed. The wood frame moved, the bed pushing into the frame as it transformed into a couch.

The prince’s eyes were silver and unreadable. His black linen shirt draped over his body. Ciaran was the palest man Cove had ever seen. He wondered if he was ill.

“What do you do for fun?” Cove tried again to start a conversation.

“I train with the military in the mornings and attend the academy in the afternoon. Now that we’ve graduated, that time will need to be filled. Evenings are reserved for political meetings,” Ciaran recited his schedule. Ciaran’s eyes fell on the surfboard. “What’s that? If that is a weapon, it is large,” Ciaran complimented, poking Cove’s bag that contained his surfboard.

Cove chuckled. “This is my surfboard. We can find something to do in the afternoon,” Cove promised, trying to put their awkward meeting behind them.

The prince’s expression made it clear he had not thought to spend his time in the afternoons with Cove.

Much of the crew and Astrid looked at his bag. Cove opened it, unveiling his board. The familiar grooves calmed him as his fingers trailed over the surface of his surfboard. The bottle of seawater had been taped to it by his father to ensure it made it to his new home with him.

“What does it do?” Ciaran asked, dropping to his knees.

“You surf…like glide across the ocean’s waves. It’s fun,” Cove explained, bewildered they had not heard of the sport.

“A bizarre traveling device. It has no cover to shade you. No safety features other than this strap,” Ciaran said, pulling on the leather leash that bound the board to Cove’s leg when he surfed. “How is it propelled? Is it faster than sharks?”

The airship glided through the clouds. There were not as many shudders and shakes as the color of the sky became lighter and lighter. Panic gripped Cove. He was leaving not just his island and people but the entire planet. Ciaran stared at him, holding the board.

“You don’t use it to sail. I paddle out into the ocean, catch a wave, stand, and maneuver the board across the wave. Shark attacks are rare. Though, if a shark wants you, it gets you,” Cove answered. He calmed as he talked about surfing. “The feeling of the wave hurling you forward is incredible. Lots of times you see turtles and dolphins. All sorts of fish. I go five mornings a week. I feel restless if I’m not in the water at least every other day,” Cove rambled, trying to push out the thought he would not be in the sea for six months.

Whatever he had said had been wrong. Astrid pulled a screen in front of her and placed headphones in, watching something. Ciaran nodded and dropped the board. Cove caught it and zipped the bag closed.

Cove gasped. Outside the windows was nothing. They had flown above the atmosphere into the darkness of space. Only the stars and moon remained. Everything was inky black. Ciaran watched him. The Space Nation was aglow. Yellow lights surrounded the silver titanium shell of the city. A small opening emerged. The ship landed. The titanium closed around them, protecting the city from the dangers of space.

“What is this?” Cove asked.

Floor after floor was illuminated. Glass windows allowed Cove to see glimpses into the lives of the people. On the bottom floors, people rushed as they worked. The middle floor seemed designed for leisure. Cove spotted a pool, movie theater, and shops. The top floors were for housing. Some rooms were cramped and tiny, and others large and lavish. Black-tinted windows protected the highest floor.

Swarms of the prince’s fans pressed themselves against the windows. They crowded the deck. Many wore shirts with the prince’s face plastered on them. Ciaran sighed. They followed Astrid off the ship. Cove grabbed Ciaran’s hand instinctively, as he would grab his friends or parents when he was scared.

“This is our home,” Ciaran grumbled with a grimace.

Ciaran’s eyes fell on their interlinked hands. The prince smiled and lifted their locked hands as blinding flashes caused Cove to panic. He tried to smile but felt he was not acting as effectively as his match. A guard opened a door for them. They escaped into a dark hall. Ciaran dropped his hand and strode down the hall.

“Show Cove to his room,” Astrid ordered before she disappeared down a hall without so much as a goodbye.

One of the staff members from the ship bowed to him. She wore the same royal gold uniform as the rest of the crew. Her long black hair was arranged into a ponytail. Everyone in the Space Nation had long hair. Cove wondered if they did not have enough barbers.

“The prince seems startled. You’ve undone him,” the woman complimented Cove. She was only a few years older than him.

The tunnels were made of the same dark titanium as the shell of the city. Bright migraine-inducing fluorescent lights lit their way down the endless halls.

“He doesn’t seem to like me. What is your name?” Cove asked, noticing the woman’s rich complexion and brown eyes.

She moved with confidence, accustomed to the identical pathways.

“Meadow,” the woman introduced herself.

Cove spotted a flowery bracelet on her wrist. No flowers like that grew on his island.

“You were born in the Mountain Nation,” Cove guessed.

Meadow nodded with a tight smile. A golden ring on her left hand indicated her marriage. She had moved here after her matching ceremony. Meadow placed the palm of her hand on a wall that looked the same as all the other walls. It lit blue, scanning her hand. A small compartment in the wall opened. Tiny cameras moved toward Meadow. She looked into one of them as the others scanned her body. A green light flickered.

“Stand here and place your palm on the wall,” Meadow instructed.

The cameras scanned Cove’s body and documented his fingerprints.

“Stare into this camera,” Meadow ordered, pointing at a small black camera.

Cove peered into the camera as it lit. The camera flashed, documenting his eyes. The wall turned green again, and a door slid open.

They stood in the most luxurious home Cove had ever seen. A marble archway led into a living room with silver and red seats. A golden phoenix emblem hung from the ceiling. Floor-to-ceiling televisions were on each wall. Four hallways spanned from the living room. Each was blocked by a large titanium door with a phoenix crust in the center. Armed guards wearing red and silver uniforms stood in front of each door.

“To your north is where meetings are held. The doorway will only open if you’ve been invited or are hosting an event,” Meadow explained. “The east is Ciaran’s father’s wing of the estate. The west is Ciaran’s mother’s wing. That’s where I’m stationed. I monitor the hallway. No one is allowed in unless invited. Ciaran and your rooms are to the south,” Meadow said, nodding to the door nearest them.

Meadow gestured for Cove to place his hand on the door. Blue rings pulsed from where he placed his hand. The titanium unlocked, and the door opened. Cove was startled by the nothingness of the hall. There were no decorations. The hall had no aroma or smell. There were no winds or breezes. There were no clouds or shadows. Cove shivered, feeling the coolness of his new home.

“This is Ciaran’s room,” Meadow said, pointing to a red door that Cove suspected would never let him in. “This is yours,” Meadow added, nodding to a simple black door across from Ciaran’s.

Cove opened the door, unsure what to expect.

Cove dropped his surfboard on the uncomfortable metallic floor. There was a simple yellow rug, a steel bedframe, black sheets, a red blanket, and three golden pillows. Each pillow had a golden phoenix laced into the fabric. There was a functional steel dresser in the corner and a matching nightstand. One large window looked out into space.

Above the bed was a massive clock that was part of the wall. The changing red numbers were precise, showing the exact milliseconds. He never tracked time at home. He allowed the day and night to take him where he pleased. Ciaran swallowed, unimpressed by the dullness of the room.

“It is nice. Thank you,” Cove lied to Meadow. There was no reason she had to know he disliked this place.

“I hope this is a new start for our nation. It is not exactly friendly to outsiders. You and Ciaran can change that,” Meadow whispered, bowing again. She closed the door behind her, allowing Cove to be alone for the first time since he left his home.

It had only been hours since he was in the ocean. He had no idea what Meadow was talking about. He was not political. All he wanted was a love match. Tears fell down his cheeks. He buried his head into a soft pillow, wishing to go back. Hours passed as he cried, unable to stop yearning for his parents and friends.

Two voices echoed in the hall. Cove rubbed his eyes and stood, pressing his ear to the door. Ciaran’s familiar voice spoke to a man whom Cove could not identify. A pang of guilt plagued Cove as he listened to his match.

“Kwan, I cannot fathom why that man is my match. After the ceremony, he tells me he does not want to share a bed with me. There were seats by my mother and Arian. Why would he think because I sat on a bed, I was suggesting we sit together?” Ciaran complained, his voice animated.

Cove looked through the peephole and saw Ciaran running his fingers through his long hair in frustration. A man who looked like a younger version of Cove’s father stood by Ciaran. He had long black hair braided down his back and kind brown eyes. He wore a red military outfit.

“He is your match. It is logical he thought you’d want to get to know him,” Kwan observed, a small smile on his lips.

“Oh, I got to know him. He has this massive, obtusely large bag that I thought was a weapon. That would make sense. I’m a prince. He has military knowledge. That would explain everything. No, it is not that at all. It is something he calls a surfboard. It has no propellers and looks slippery. Yet, he rides it through waves for fun. For fun! He throws himself into the water, where sharks can make a meal out of him. I asked him if this board was faster than sharks, and he said no. Why would you get into the ocean?” Ciaran muttered, throwing his hands into the air.

Ciaran leaned against his door, shaking his head. Kwan chuckled, folding his arms. The man looked at the prince with affection. The two shared a gentle expression that, for a moment, made Cove think that Ciaran was kind. Then Ciaran groaned again and mumbled how terrible the ceremony had gone.

“He grabbed my hand. It will be all over the magazines and is already all over the news,” Ciaran confided, shaking his head.

“He is your match,” Kwan repeated. “Affection between couples is not unheard of,” Kwan acknowledged, his face lit with a bright smile.