Chapter Sixteen

A soft rapping on the door stirred Coran awake. He glanced around the room, his vision fuzzy. After a quick inventory of his surroundings, he realized he had fallen asleep in his reading chair. His glasses had slipped down onto his chest, his book laying in his lap. Coran moved the book out of his way, setting it on a side table along with his glasses.

Clearing his throat, he called out to whoever was on the other side of the door. "Just a moment!" Straightening his posture, he fingered through his hair and rubbed his eyes awake. He went to the door panel and pressed a button. The door slid open. Coran's sleepy eyes briefly went wide as he found Queen Orla standing in the doorway.

"Your Highness," he gave a curt bow. "Forgive me, I wasn't expecting you."

The queen half-smiled at him. "It's Orla, remember?"

"Oh yes, I beg your pardon," Coran smiled at her. "Please, do come in, Orla." He stepped to the side and beckoned with his arm for her to enter. She stepped into the room and the door closed behind her. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Orla turned to face him. "A friend can't come visit another friend?" She smiled.

"Pardon me again."

She grinned at him. For his age and experience, Coran was still a handsome man to her. He had thick, wavy salt and pepper hair. His deep brown eyes were kind but hid the wounds of his past. He seemed a bit of a mystery to Orla. A very appealing mystery. "Actually I came here to see if you still had something."

Coran eyed her quizzically. Dawning with realization, his eyes widened a bit and nodded in acknowledgement. "I think I know what you're referring to." He stepped over to a bookshelf built in to the wall. He ran his finger over the binding of several books, his eyes scanning the titles. He found which book he had been searching for and withdrew it from the shelf. Flipping it open, the book revealed a hollow opening where the middle of its thick pages had been cut out. Coran pulled out a small black satchel from the book. He let the book rest on his desk as he turned to Orla. "I believe this is what you are looking for." He placed the satchel in her palm and closed her fingers around it.

She smiled up at her friend. Slipping the tiny bag open, she smiled as the small object sparkled in her hand. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a matching bag. Coran couldn't help but grin at their secret. He reached out his hand and took it from her, emptying the contents into his palm. As his eyes traced over the curved object, he let a sigh escape his lips.

"It's been a long time, Orla," he whispered. "I always wanted this to happen differently, but there's not much we can do about it now." He felt a soft hand rest upon his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"It's what they wanted, Coran. I'm sure they'll both love it." Her honeyed voice filled his ears. He cherished the feeling of her hand upon him. He had never acted on his desire for her. Her outer beauty was enjoyed by many, but he felt like he was one of an elite few who got a chance to see her inner beauty as well. He often wondered what might have been if things had been different. He gave a heavy sigh, and dared to let his hand come up to rest upon hers on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Orla. You're very dear to me," he said in a hushed voice, still looking down. Orla nearly flinched at the contact. She felt her face flush as she froze. After a few moments, Coran turned to face her. His rich eyes seemed sad, but there was a bit of a spark to them. "Will you join me on the terrace? The others are already at the races so we may spend some time by ourselves…" his voice trailed off as he realized the implied meaning of the words. They wouldn't be interrupted by anyone. They would be…alone… Coran fought the urge to back track his words to phrase them differently, and instead cleared his throat again.

Orla grinned at his coy manner. "I would love to spend some time with you, Coran." Her words rescued him from his rambling. Coran found himself momentarily lost in her eyes, then briefly shook his head and stepped to the glass cabinet in the corner.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked nervously, pouring himself a glass of Arusian wine.

"Please," Orla responded. She stepped out onto the terrace and sat down in the Adirondack-style chair. The sun was just starting to begin its usual descent. From the height of the castle tower, she could make out the arena a few miles away, the sound of speeder engines echoing in the distance. "I do hope they're safe out there. Are you sure they had enough guards?" She expressed her concern as she accepted the glass from Coran, pausing as their fingers brushed together.

"Um," the brief contact caused Coran to stammer slightly. "I'm sure they'll be just fine. They have the entire Voltron Force in attendance and a slew of guards. Not to mention we don't have to worry about Zarkon and Lotor anymore." He held the glass to his lips and took a drink before sitting in the the chair across from her.

"I heard Nanny complaining that the races were no place for Royalty," Orla smiled as she sipped more wine. Coran gave a light chuckle.

"Sometimes Nanny forgets that if it weren't for the people of this planet there would be no Royalty. The princess has adoring subjects, and with the incredible approval rating Keith has earned, the idea of them being out in public amongst the people could only have a positive result," Coran seemed to be reciting from a rule book.

Orla couldn't help but laugh aloud at him. "Coran, honestly, do you ever take a break?"

Coran felt himself blush slightly. "I guess they are few and far between." He held up his hand as if swearing an oath. "I promise I won't discuss politics the rest of the evening." He smiled at her and extended his glass. She tipped her own into his, toasting to the oath. The older couple continued chatting and laughing the remainder of the evening, truly divulged in each others' company.