* * *
Harry felt pretty pleased with himself.
The dinner was ready, the table was set, and the cake he’d worked so hard on for most of the afternoon looked delicious (it was a little crooked, but Harry hoped that it wasn’t obvious). Hopefully it tasted delicious, too.
Harry looked at it anxiously, wondering not for the first time whether he should have just bought a birthday cake from the bakery around the corner. He did like the idea of baking a homemade cake for Adam, but what if it wasn’t good? What if Adam hated it?
Well, it was too late anyway. Adam should be home soon.
Wiping his hands on his t-shirt, Harry glanced at the table for the last time, making sure everything was perfect—
He felt a familiar tickling sensation.
Frowning, Harry looked at his body and froze, his eyes widening.
A semi-transparent white force field was starting to surround his body, becoming denser with each second. Then, there was a familiar pulling sensation sweeping through him, and Harry barely managed to think, No, when he was yanked through space, the whites of the stars streaking by in a blur.
Humans were wrong in their assumption that aliens would arrive in spaceships. Aliens, at least aliens from Harry’s corner of the galaxy, had all but stopped using spaceships thousands of years ago when that method of transportation had become obsolete with the invention of the transgalactic teleporter. Spaceships were now used only for short distances by touristic companies and by lower classes who couldn’t afford the TNIT—Transgalactic Nearly Instantaneous Teleportation.
“Welcome home, Your Highness.”
Harry gazed blankly at the familiar high ceilings and transparent walls giving the illusion of being outside.
He was home.
“Your Highness?”
If he was home, it meant he wouldn’t find out if the cake he’d baked for Adam’s birthday was any good.
“Your Highness?”
Adam, who was half a galaxy away.
Adam, who would come home to an empty flat.
Adam, whom he was unlikely to ever see again.
Harry swallowed, his throat clogging up and his chest growing tight.
“Your Highness!”
He flinched and looked around. Realizing that the voice belonged to the palace’s AI, he felt silly—silly and strange. He’d gotten too used to being on Earth, to their charmingly outdated technology.
Harry cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the thick lump lodged there. “Yes?”
“Her Majesty and the King-Consort are waiting for you in Her Majesty’s study.”
“Thank you, Borg’gorn.” Harry left the transporter room and headed for his mother’s study, his feet heavy and his heart heavier.
He’d been away for months. He missed the palace, missed his parents, missed his siblings, but he couldn’t quite muster up the excitement and happiness he was probably supposed to be feeling right now. He could feel his familial connections coming back to life in his mind, but now they seemed loud and intrusive instead of comforting.
Harry tightened his mental shields, surrounding his mind as best as he could. He was out of practice; he hadn’t needed to protect his mind from telepaths on Earth.
Earth, which was thousands of light years away.
Forcing the thought out of his mind, Harry pushed the door to his mother’s study open.
His parents turned their heads.
Harry put on a smile and waited for them to acknowledge him first.
Zahef’ngh’chaali was the one to do it. “Harht,” his father said, gazing at him with a warm smile. “Welcome home. You were missed.”
Harry felt his father reach for him telepathically and lowered his mental shields, allowing his father’s mind to embrace his. He sighed as the familiar warmth and comfort of his father’s mind enveloped him. He’d missed this, but he found himself wishing for a physical hug, for strong arms holding him tightly—
His throat closed up again and Harry blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the sudden moisture in his eyes.
“Harht’ngh’chaali, health and tranquility,” his mother said, her voice a little sterner than his father’s. Queen Tamirs’shni’chaali had always been the stern parent, but Harry supposed that came with the job of being the Queen of the Second Grand Clan of Calluvia. Of course his mother was stern; she had to be when she was responsible for so many people. It didn’t mean she didn’t love her children; Harry knew she did.
“Health and tranquility, Mother,” he said, trying not to sound subdued. The traditional greeting seemed strange after humans’ informal greetings.
His mother’s brows furrowed when her mind touched his. “You’re upset,” she said. “Are you upset because you expected us to recall you home sooner?”
“Can I go back?” Harry blurted out. When his parents stared at him, he added uncertainly, “Just for a little while? I was in the middle of something when I was transported home.”
His parents exchanged a look, communicating telepathically through their bond. The bond he still didn’t have in his mind. Was it broken irrevocably?
“Why do you want to return to Sol III?” his mother said at last.