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‘Will you be making a speech, Excellency?’
Selene shook her head slightly to clear her daydream, realising that Ines Motho, the Education Minister, had been addressing her.
‘I’ll say a few words,’ Selene said, her words coming out in a rush. ‘But I would much prefer taking the time to individually thank the friends who helped us win this victory and award their medals of valour.’
‘Just like we planned,’ said L’Ogano Rai, the sallow-faced, tall and extremely thin head of the Interior Ministry.
‘Indeed. I also want all cabinet members on the dais with me when we do the presentations.’
‘Of course, Excellency,’ Ines agreed.
‘Is that all we need to discuss?’ Selene asked.
‘We just need to ensure you’re all at the security briefing here, at 1800 standard, where you’ll all be assigned your personal guards,’ Rina reminded the assembled Council.
With that, Selene adjourned the meeting and rose to her feet, checking her comm tab for her next appointment.
‘A couture dress fitting with House of M’Armin?’ she groaned.
‘Did you do this, Ri’?’ she hissed as her best friend sidled past the Council members filing out of the room and towards her.
Rina grinned at her. ‘You’ve not gone shopping in years, Selene. No more recycling the same tired gowns you’ve worn to every ball and dinner party over the last ten years. Tomorrow, you’re the Prime. You need to shine. You can’t let Dunia down with a drab dress from a Rhesian catalogue circa ten years ago.’
‘Fine,’ Selene conceded. ‘For planet and people, hey? But you’re coming with me.’
She crowed at the look of horror on Rina’s face. ‘And picking a gown for yourself as well. Enough with the military jumpsuit look, woman!’
Selene sat sipping a glass of prosecco in the salon of House of M’Armin, one of Dunia’s most elegant dress shops. She looked out the grand salon’s windows at the stunning view.
It had prime position on a hilltop overlooking Lamina Bay, one of the picturesque mini harbours along New Malindi’s coastline. The mid-afternoon sun playing on the waves made the boats and yachts on the water sparkle. The sand too, where young children frolicked, their laughter wafting back towards her. No one looking on the scene without knowing what had transpired the last few weeks would believe the city had been under siege then. Life had quickly returned to normal here, and for that, Selene was thankful.
Lamina Bay was special to her. She’d often come with her father and sister for breakfast in one of the waterfront cafes. Sheba’s favourite pick on the menu had always been avocado and feta cheese on toast. For Selene, pancakes and bacon. Kei’Lano had always chosen eggs florentine.
Together they’d eat, catch up on all their news and laugh. They’d also raise a toast to Astrea, the girls’ mother and Kei’Lano’s first and only love. She’d passed over two decades ago. Over the years, their memories of her had softened and faded at the edges. Selene remembered a warm, smiling woman with the softest touch and kindest words. And now her father had joined her wherever souls went to dance in the great expansive skies of Pegasi.
Selene sucked in air to control the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. She’d cry for her parents when she had her sister beside her. Until then, Selene was determined to tamp down the waves of sorrow that threatened to drown her.
She couldn’t break down, not here, not now. So instead, she lifted her glass to her father, mother and Sheba and took a long, much-needed sip.
Moments later, a House of M’Armin attendant bustled into the room. ‘Not long now, Prime.’
‘That’s absolutely fine,’ Selene said. She was waiting for her ball gown to be adjusted. Something about tightening the waist. She’d been tempted to leave and ask the design house to courier the dress to her. But for some reason, she’d chosen to stay and wait for the tailors to finish their alterations. Perhaps it was the view. More likely, the memories and reminders of visiting the bay with her family - when life had been so joyous, simple and good.
Just then, her comm tab trilled.
It was a code she didn’t recognise.
Her gut told her to pick up so she swiped the call screen and waited.
‘Selene Munene?’ came an unknown voice in an abrasive tenor.
‘Yes,’ she said uncertainly.
‘This is Prince Emian. From the Royal House of Rhesia.’
‘Ah, I remember you,’ Selene said. How could she forget the King’s dour-looking brother?And the trivial disdain he’d had for her dress on the evening of his brother’s birthday party,Selene thought peevishly.
‘And to what do I owe the honour?’ she continued.
