"Did you know?" Amarel said, proud as anything. "They say that when the sunlight hits the Opulence at a certain angle, you can hear the whispers of artists from the past."
"Shit, I'll have to unclog my ears, then" Law shot back.
The crystal-shaped palace rotated on a thread between moon and planet, looming above them. The elevator's floor and ceiling were transparent, allowing them to see… everything. The planet, the curve of the horizon, the plains, the citylights that looked like veins, the other moons to the side like extinguished eyes. And above: the Opulence.
Don't look down, don't look down…
"How many palaces do these people even have?" Jean murmured, incredulous, turning slowly in place.
"I don't know… four? Five? This one's definitely the biggest," Amarel replied, pushing his hair back. Seeing his lean, sun-browned face for the first time, Jean had felt the urge to feed him. His thick ochre hair curtained his brown eyes, but on the rare occasions you caught them, you could see a strong orange sheen in them, along with diamond-shaped pupils, typical of hybrids born on Solstice, especially in the villages of the Vaire region.
"Fucking hell," Law grunted, arms folded against the elevator wall. He wasn't very tall; thankfully for him, he came just a bit above Jean. In the little Jean had met him so far, it had seemed like looking up irritated him, for some reason. Even now, with a giant crystal above their heads, he kept his gaze fixed on some undistinguished point, heavy brows furrowed over silver eyes.
"You happy?" he added, glancing at her. "First job and you're already in the big leagues. Skipped the prelims entirely."
His smooth hair, the colour of metal, fell to mid-neck and slipped over a sharp face, pale and rough to the touch, defined by a jaw set like stone. The thing that had grabbed Jean's attention most the first time, aside from the permanently pissed off expression, had been the scars. One cut diagonally through his left eyebrow down to his cheekbone; another, deeper, crossed his forehead; another marked his cheek, not counting all the smaller scars scattered across his face.
"First and last," Jean replied.
The elevator's crystal walls caught a faint reflection: her own oval, rosy face, and her large, green, luminous eyes. Bioluminescence and night-vision were traits of the Skynt, natives of the dark planet Lilea, and Jean was a hybrid.
Hybrids were common in the galaxy. Constant, actually.
She wore her blond hair tied in a ponytail, and around her neck, always, a soft black scarf with white polka dots: her father's.
First and last, she told herself.
The elevator slowed without a jolt. A clear sound, almost musical, announced their arrival. The crystal walls folded back on themselves like petals, revealing a wide, luminous atrium where the light didn't so much come from above as it came from every surface.
Jean swallowed, and the three of them stepped out.
"Welcome to the Opulence."
The voice was warm, modulated. Two people stood before them: a woman with pale red hair gathered into an elaborate style threaded with fine strands of silver, and an older, broad man with a black visor over his eyes. Both well past their youth, both smiling. It was hard to tell whether it came naturally.
"Lucienne Rouge," the woman said, dipping her head slightly.
"Corbin Rouge," the man added, with an almost theatrical incline.
"At your service!" they declared in unison.
Jean took it all in without quite knowing where to put her attention. The colours, the proportions, the way even the silence seemed designed. Care taken to excess.
"Well, shit. At least this time we've got a welcome committee," Law commented.
"If it weren't for the payout, Snow would've gotten a terrible review," Amarel piled on.
Corbin laughed: a frank, unforced sound. Lucienne made an elegant gesture inward.
"Please, follow us, travellers. We would be delighted to offer you something."
Sweets, Jean thought, and for an instant the word felt as out of place as she did.
They found themselves in a circular salon, crossed by soft lines and suspended works that changed their appearance depending on the angle. Jean remained standing longer than she needed to, as if sitting were the wrong choice.
Is Dad eating right now?
They sat. Law ate without thinking. Amarel watched everything with sincere curiosity. Jean held her cup in both hands, more to have something to do than to drink.
"We truly appreciate the hospitality," Amarel began, setting his cup down. "What do we owe the invitation to?"
"We invited you because we are… interested in your next work," Lucienne replied, with a light smile.
Law raised an eyebrow.
Corbin straightened. "The Second Quadrant is under our jurisdiction, after all. It is our duty to be informed about what happens, especially when it concerns matters such as what you are about to do to a Futura Life cargo ship."
Jean's jaw tightened.
Ah. Perfect. Rejected before we even start. Fuck. What was I thinking? And why are they so relaxed?
Lucienne drew a quiet breath.
"It is not our intention to interrupt your art, travellers. Our House holds indeed a certain amount of the corporation's shares… money, however, has never been our first interest," she said with calm eloquence.
Jean let out half a sigh of relief. Not a full one. Something could still happen.
Amarel scratched his chin, silent, waiting.
"Besides, this event may yield unexpected results!" Corbin agreed, enthusiastic. "So that your work may proceed without trouble, we have only one request."
Law gave a low grunt. "I'm listening."
Lucienne cleared her throat. "We would like one of our members to assist you in your operation."
Law's brow snapped down. "Uh?!"
The side doors opened.
Two figures entered.
The first was a woman, tall, beautiful, and elegant to the point of excess, limbs too long and slender, gaze steady and sharp. Her white dress with red brushes looked so expensive it pissed her off. Clarisse. Jean didn't need to hear the name to feel dislike rise in her. There was something in the way she occupied space, as if everything ought to adjust to her.
Beside her, almost in contrast, a boy.
Thin, too young, dressed simply. A light-blue polo, red hair long enough to brush his neck, and pale blue eyes that looked at the world with caution more than interest. His skin was smooth and fair, almost porcelain.
Jean tilted her head.
And who's this? she thought. Poor kid. He's just a boy. He's a bit weird, though. That lady seems nuts, on the other hand.
"This is Lacrosse," Corbin said. "He will accompany you."
Lacrosse greeted them with a hesitant smile. Jean returned it without thinking. Clarisse did not.
Corbin cleared his throat again. "We would like him to accompany you during the execution of your contract. Consider it a form of guarantee. He will not hinder you in any way: on the contrary, he will help. And he will keep us regularly informed of your progress."
Law exhaled sharply. "Shit, this is getting crowded."
"Hold on, hold on, it can't be that bad," Amarel whispered, leaning toward him. "Think about it: contract politics apply to them too. If anything goes wrong, their reputation takes the hit. Just organising something like this is a risk for them."
"Of course, a reward awaits you as well. One million pods each," Lucienne declared.
Jean felt the world snap into focus.
One million.
Her hands trembled.
Will it be enough?
Will it arrive in time?
"Well, shit."
"Are you sure five stars is the max for a review? We need more," Amarel asked Law.
Law studied Lacrosse for a few seconds. Then he rose from the divan, walked over, and studied him again.
"Ever done anything like this before?"
Lacrosse shrugged. "I… don't… think so…"
Jean lowered her gaze. Me neither, she wanted to say. She lifted a hand to her scarf and brushed it lightly.
Law scoffed and crossed his arms. "Hell, it can't be that bad."
Clarisse watched it all with a half-smile Jean couldn't stand. Too aware. Too sure.
When they stood to leave, Jean turned once more toward the salon. Everything was still perfect, unchanged.
I'm really doing this, she thought.
And for the first time, she couldn't give herself an answer.