Page 129 of Tempted by Celestial Bodies

the twelfth ambassador

Mindi Briar

chapterone

day one

It’s beenten years since I last set foot on Eiris. The thick humidity wraps around me like a welcoming hug as I stride down the ramp from Dad’s private starship.

My father, Governor O’Rourke, lingers in the open airlock, like he’s afraid to even touch the soil of the planet he rules as the Emperor’s representative. “Remember, Sinead,” he calls after me. “Six months to negotiate a treaty that favors our interests. Don’t disappoint me.”

I roll my eyes. He already spent the whole flight drilling that message home.Don’t bend to the aliens’ threats, and don’t get soft-hearted. You’re on Eiris to get what we need and put the locals in their place.

Turning back, I almost bump into my secretary, Cecily, floating my hover-trunks out of the baggage compartment. “Love you, too, Dad,” I say pointedly.

He doesn’t bother with the mushy stuff. Never has. And I, as always, have to pretend it doesn’t sting.

Dad disappears inside the ship. The ramp retracts and the engines power up. Cecily and I back away. Wind ruffles my auburn pixie cut as the ship lifts off, leaving me alone on a planet I haven’t visited since I was fourteen.

“Not to worry,” Cecily says, falsely bright. “I messaged the embassy when we landed. Your new bodyguard will be here in a moment to escort us.”

I sigh. My breath fogs the hard, clear, rounded breather mask that fits over my nose and mouth, connected to the air purification unit clipped to my collar.

Though Eiris’s air won’t be fatally toxic unless I breathe it for several days, it’ll start making me light-headed and/or causing hallucinations within a few hours. The oxygen levels are passable, but the trees give off some chemical that, over long exposure, puts unaltered—or “Earth Classic”—humans into a comatose state.

But the view is worth the trouble. I’ve daydreamed of Eiris’s natural beauty since Dad brought me here as a teenager to celebrate his new governorship. That was right after the Emperor had the old governor, Lady Crowe, executed. Back when Dad pretended to care about his only daughter.

I remember the first night in the resort, standing at our cabin window high in the trees. Dad pointed out a distant orange glow and said, “See that? They’re burning Lady Crowe in effigy tonight. Good riddance to a bad leader, and welcome to a new one.”

That might be the last time I remember being proud of him.

“Here he comes,” Cecily announces, anchoring my thoughts in the present. I sweep my gaze down the path that leads to the resort but see no one.

Then awhooshof wings catches my attention and I look up. My jaw drops.

When humans colonized this planet two thousand years ago, they didn’t respond well physically to the lighter gravity and heady atmosphere. Rather than alter the planet to suit their needs, they altered themselves, splicing their DNA with one of the dominant local life forms.

And, for reasons unknown, they picked a fuckingbutterfly.

The man who floats from the sky to land in front of me is a dizzying blend of human traits with the colorful Eirisian insectoid. He’s tall and wiry-thin, with skin the color of my favorite rose-pink lipstick. His elfin facial features and silky-straight brown hair tied back in a low ponytail make him look like a character in a fantasy holo-drama, completely out of his element in a drab brown security uniform. He keeps his lower hands clasped politely behind his back, like he’s used to working with Earth Classics who get freaked out when they see a man with four arms.

Then there’s thewings. Folded, they create a brownish cape behind him, tapered back and stopping just short of brushing the ground. But in flight, the wings reach a massive span, at least twice his two-meter height, and they’re vividly, eye-bleedingly rainbow-colored.

But the worst thing about the butterfly man is thatI recognize him.

Ten years was almost enough time to forget the annoying boy who followed me around the resort as my “tour guide” when I was fourteen. Almost…but not quite.

“Jalus?” I exclaim.

I’m not entirely comfortable with the way my heart thuds as he walks toward me. When I last saw him, I’d just had a growth spurt and Jalus was shorter than me, a scrawny twig of a kid, with wings still shaggy from their first molt.

He’s, uh, changed a lot.

Now he’s a head taller, with devastating cheekbones and intense dark-purple eyes. His gaze feels like an x-ray scan. I cross my arms over my chest, even though I’m already sweating in my long-sleeved court robe.

He bows, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Lady Sinead.” Oh, stars, even his voice has changed. That husky rumble makes me forget how to breathe for a second.

“You’re working as a bodyguard now?” I choke out.

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