wrapped her arms around his neck in greeting upon his return.
Even Earth grew on Merokk. The winter in DC wasn’t as brutal as in his district back home, and the heated greenhouse behind his mansion flourished with vegetation native to his planet. Many of his friends remained as ambassadors or as warriors on the military base, so he had plenty of company among his own kind. An era of peace had settled upon Earth as Kall and humans worked together side by side to rebuild.
Betsy seemed happy except for when she visited with her father, so Merokk often declined invitations to the White House and invited the president over less and less. Other than that, his new wife thrived. She got along fabulously with the servants. She was always polite to his friends and had become close with a few of their wives—Kall and human alike. Layla, one of her father’s aides, stopped by regularly. Betsy claimed they were good friends before the war.
Despite how happy he was with his wife, little things kept popping up between them, causing him to wonder if he’d ever truly know the real Betsy. He’d read in her file that she’d played piano quite well and had one brought to the house as a gift—only for her to claim it had been too many years since she’d practiced and she couldn’t remember one simple song. When he asked about her late mother, she stiffened and refused to discuss the woman who’d died of cancer during her husband’s first term as president. Merokk’s mother had died when he was a child too, and his assumption that this common denominator would bring them closer had been wrong.
Merokk had hardly a thing to complain about though. He desired Betsy’s company every night and delighted in pushing her limits in the bedroom. She didn’t balk at much and obeyed most of the time. She knew what to expect if she didn’t. Merokk didn’t tolerate a smart mouth or the slightest eye roll, and he warmed her bottom well when she deserved it.
February bled into March, and March bled into April. Spring came early, and the warm weather was a welcome respite. Rebuilding during the winter months hadn’t been easy, especially when it snowed and the white stuff lay on the ground for days. But by the end of April, Washington, DC, no longer resembled a war-torn city.
It was on a particularly beautiful spring day that Merokk received an unannounced visit from his father. A servant brought the older Kall into the study where Merokk had been answering personal messages from their homeworld.
“Father.” Merokk stood and gestured at the chair facing his desk. Once they were both seated, it became obvious this wasn’t a pleasant social call. His father looked angry, disturbed, and deep in thought. It was a while before he finally spoke.
“We have a situation to deal with, son.” Pentak narrowed his thick brows and met Merokk’s questioning eyes. “I’ve just learned that your wife is an imposter.”
* * *
No windows. No sunlight for days. No human—or Kall—contact. Fiona feared she would go crazy if she spent another hour locked inside this strange room in the basement of the mansion she shared with Merokk. It disturbed her that such a room existed in the first place, but she didn’t dwell on it long. Most of her time was spent despairing over her ruined relationship with Merokk and fearing for her mother’s life.
A few days ago—how many she couldn’t say—she’d come home from lunch with Layla to find her husband waiting quietly in the great room. In an eerily calm voice, he’d informed her that the real Betsy Carson had been located in Vermont and was currently being held on charges of treason. “Do you have anything you want to tell me?” he’d asked.
Betsy had summoned all her courage and said, “I’m so sorry, Merokk. M-my real name is Fiona. I did it for my mother—so she could be safe after the war. Please understand I had no choice.”
“We all have choices, Fiona.”
What happened next
Even Earth grew on Merokk. The winter in DC wasn’t as brutal as in his district back home, and the heated greenhouse behind his mansion flourished with vegetation native to his planet. Many of his friends remained as ambassadors or as warriors on the military base, so he had plenty of company among his own kind. An era of peace had settled upon Earth as Kall and humans worked together side by side to rebuild.
Betsy seemed happy except for when she visited with her father, so Merokk often declined invitations to the White House and invited the president over less and less. Other than that, his new wife thrived. She got along fabulously with the servants. She was always polite to his friends and had become close with a few of their wives—Kall and human alike. Layla, one of her father’s aides, stopped by regularly. Betsy claimed they were good friends before the war.
Despite how happy he was with his wife, little things kept popping up between them, causing him to wonder if he’d ever truly know the real Betsy. He’d read in her file that she’d played piano quite well and had one brought to the house as a gift—only for her to claim it had been too many years since she’d practiced and she couldn’t remember one simple song. When he asked about her late mother, she stiffened and refused to discuss the woman who’d died of cancer during her husband’s first term as president. Merokk’s mother had died when he was a child too, and his assumption that this common denominator would bring them closer had been wrong.
Merokk had hardly a thing to complain about though. He desired Betsy’s company every night and delighted in pushing her limits in the bedroom. She didn’t balk at much and obeyed most of the time. She knew what to expect if she didn’t. Merokk didn’t tolerate a smart mouth or the slightest eye roll, and he warmed her bottom well when she deserved it.
February bled into March, and March bled into April. Spring came early, and the warm weather was a welcome respite. Rebuilding during the winter months hadn’t been easy, especially when it snowed and the white stuff lay on the ground for days. But by the end of April, Washington, DC, no longer resembled a war-torn city.
It was on a particularly beautiful spring day that Merokk received an unannounced visit from his father. A servant brought the older Kall into the study where Merokk had been answering personal messages from their homeworld.
“Father.” Merokk stood and gestured at the chair facing his desk. Once they were both seated, it became obvious this wasn’t a pleasant social call. His father looked angry, disturbed, and deep in thought. It was a while before he finally spoke.
“We have a situation to deal with, son.” Pentak narrowed his thick brows and met Merokk’s questioning eyes. “I’ve just learned that your wife is an imposter.”
* * *
No windows. No sunlight for days. No human—or Kall—contact. Fiona feared she would go crazy if she spent another hour locked inside this strange room in the basement of the mansion she shared with Merokk. It disturbed her that such a room existed in the first place, but she didn’t dwell on it long. Most of her time was spent despairing over her ruined relationship with Merokk and fearing for her mother’s life.
A few days ago—how many she couldn’t say—she’d come home from lunch with Layla to find her husband waiting quietly in the great room. In an eerily calm voice, he’d informed her that the real Betsy Carson had been located in Vermont and was currently being held on charges of treason. “Do you have anything you want to tell me?” he’d asked.
Betsy had summoned all her courage and said, “I’m so sorry, Merokk. M-my real name is Fiona. I did it for my mother—so she could be safe after the war. Please understand I had no choice.”
“We all have choices, Fiona.”
What happened next
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