Page 52 of The Space Traveller's Lover
Shaillah inspects herself, twisting her body around, thinking that, for some reason, she feels lighter than ever before. Thick elastic white-and-blue straps tightly wrap around her skin, and as she inspects her fingers and toes, she notices they sparkle if she rubs them against each other.
“You have advanced immortal supercells now, Shaillah. They can fully regenerate themselves even faster. They can absorb higher energies and withstand any sudden space distortions. A fully fledged space-time traveller, as our great Rom-Ghenshar race.”
As Shaillah excitedly smiles back at Zula, the thoughts of how she will use her newly acquired abilities overwhelm her.
“And you can harness your mind beyond your own body. That means you can transmit your mind into a copy of yourself and traverse entangled space-time frames,” Zula-Or exultantly adds.
Shaillah admires Zula-Or’s radiant, self-confident presence, her gem-studded headpiece and elegant pearl-embroidered tunic. It all gives the lady such an air of distinction.
Zula looks so majestic. One day, I will be like her, she thinks, as she keeps looking at Zula-Or in expectant silence.
“Here, put on your favourite gown,” Zula-Or says, holding the gold-trimmed silver silk tunic and sliding it through Shaillah’s arms.
Then, Zula-Or brings her a tall goblet. As Shaillah thirstily drinks the energising liquid, Zula-Or arranges her hair over her shoulders.
“You look beautiful,” Zula-Or praises her while taking the goblet from her hands and looking straight into her gleaming purple pupils.
“I can see it in your eyes. I know what you are going to ask me next, dear Shaillah. Rothwen is coming to see you soon.”
Shaillah can’t hide her eagerness; an anxious sigh breaks through her lips while she half-closes her eyelids, her cheeks blushing as she looks away from Zula-Or’s prying gaze.
“I haven’t seen that look on your face for thousands of years!” Zula-Or marvels.
“How come?”
“Dear child, I was alsoin love… once,” Zula-Or confesses half-heartedly.
“Oh, Zula! How was it? Please tell me,” Shaillah enthuses.
“I’m afraid it did not end well,” Zula-Or replies sullenly, briefly looking down. “He never loved me—choosing to be with his army in endless spaceadventures. And I never saw him again. For a while, I cried and desperately longed for his return. For a while, I fooled myself, thinking he’d still be remembering me. But he never returned. That’s why I was so relieved when I could rip that feeling out of my ravaged heart, never to suffer again.”
Shaillah’s vision blurs behind her sudden tears as she hears Zula-Or’s recount her story, but the wise lady’s stern expression hardly shifts. Her poignant words are more of despite rather than anguish.
“You’re treading a fine line, Shaillah—between despair and passion. And he, Rothwen, can be the breeze that dries all your tears or the mighty storm that drowns you in a sweeping flood,” Zula-Or cautions.
Shaillah nods as she keeps mulling over Zula-Or’s warning.
“But at least, you have the choice now, my dear Shaillah. If you ever want to cut him out of your mind”—Zula-Or glides the edge of her hand over her forehead—“just ask Athguer.”
Suddenly, a shaft of white light rushes in through the massive arched door opening up at the back of the room. Shaillah’s heart misses a beat when she sees Rothwen leaning on one of his arms against the towering side column while intensely staring at her.
Every sign from Rothwen’s body is telling her that he is waiting for her. She runs towards him so quickly that, before she even realises it, she has fallen right into his arms, her nervous tears briefly tainting his black glossy uniform.
“Seya, Shaillah, yei shen Rom-Ghenshar” (Welcome, Shaillah, my Rom-Ghenshar soldier), Rothwen holds her chin, drawing her face close to his, his intense gaze bursting with admiration.
Zula-Or observes them as she slowly steps back. Rothwen and Shaillah have entirely forgotten she is here while they embrace and kiss. There is no doubt in her mind now. Something stronger than any reasoning and stranger than any miracle is happening. But she knows she is powerless to interfere. Before her body copy disappears in a puff of particles, she sends a goodbye message to Shaillah, but she gets no reply.
The lovers bask in their magical moment; all they can think about now is themselves.
“I missed you.” She fakes a giddy glare. “I feel dizzy. Please take me back to my smartroom.” Then she laughs and starts running away from him through the long corridors.
Rothwen smiles in amusement as he follows her, purposely letting her take the advantage. When she gets to her smartroom door, she waits for him, her back against the door, breathing heavily.
Rothwen’s hungry eyes pierce through Shaillah’s vulnerable soul as he slams the door with both hands, trapping her between his arms.
“Will you open the door?” he asks her in an inviting tone.
They slump on the floor as the door slowly opens, their lips locked in a desperate breathless kiss. As they rub against each other, the searing heat burns the skin under their garments.
