LUNA

The planets of the Pentangle were in grave danger, but Princess Lunaria de Longoria was still in bed. "Hello?" the princess called out in a soft, expectant voice. When there was no response, she raised her voice and hollered, "Hel-lo! Is anyone going to bring me my juice? It is now one full minute after nine."

There were no sounds from the hall outside her royal bedroom. That was odd. Usually, the palace was bustling with the swish-swish and spritz-spritz sounds of cleaning, or the quick patter of servants hustling to and fro, or her mother's firm voice barking out a list of daily tasks for the palace employees. But this morning, the halls of the Palace of Lunaria were still and strangely silent.

Princess Lunaria pushed back her smooth satin sheets and flexed her buttery-yellow feet. She inspected the elegant designs painted on each of her big toenails. She wasn't due to have her weekly pedicure for two days, but she wasn't sure she could stand to wait that long. A tiny fleck of polish had chipped off when she stepped out of the shower the previous morning, and she was growing tired of the color on her toes. It felt dated — very last week. She made a mental note to have someone call down to the palace spa later.

With a heavy sigh, the princess craned her neck and waited. She blinked her eyes — one a bright yellow, the other vibrant orange — impatiently. Usually, all it took was a simple call and someone would come running. She clanged the little bell she'd had installed by her bedside, then listened intently. Nothing. Frustrated, she opened her mouth and released a loud scream that spanned eight octaves. Her pampered and loving pet, Adora, snuggled deeper into the covers beside her, trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep. The cuddly pink and red creature groaned, irritated at having been disturbed. Then, with a soft sigh, Adora tucked all four of her delicate paws under her soft body and fell back to sleep.

A moment later, Lunaria heard an unfamiliar thump-thump-thump coming from somewhere far below her bedroom in one of the palace's great rooms. Out the window, a strange buzzing sound drowned out the usual birdsong in the gardens.

The princess pressed a button on her bed's headboard, and the sweet sound of her own singing floated out of the speakers that were hidden around the room. Much better.

After another quick peek at the time — nine-oh-four! — Lunaria flopped back onto a heavenly stack of pillows and growled. Where was everyone? Like a true princess, Lunaria de Longoria did not like to be kept waiting. And she usually refused to get out of bed in the morning until she had nourished her body with a tall glass of green juice pressed from the palace's garden vegetables. She set her mouth into a firm scowl, but relaxed the muscles into a soft pout when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror hanging over her bed. Scowling didn't suit her lovely features.

Lunaria dropped her legs over the side of her round, floating bed and landed gracefully on the plush carpet below. She wanted juice! It was highly unusual to do something for herself. She tiptoed to the door of her bedroom, cocked her head, and listened hopefully for the telltale sound of a servant's footsteps in the hallway. She smiled when she heard someone approaching her door. About time, she mused. She would have to give this servant a little talking to. A wait this long was totally unacceptable. The door of her room flew open, and Lunaria jumped back.

"Excuse me," she snapped, glaring at the intruder. "I believe it is best to knock before entering a princess's quarters?"

The unfamiliar man standing in the doorway arched an eyebrow and bowed — but only slightly. "Apologies, Your Highness."

"That's better," Lunaria said stiffly, arching one of her own perfect eyebrows back at him. "And next time, I expect you to present yourself with a proper bow. That little curtsy, or whatever it was — weak."

She narrowed her eyes and studied the servant more carefully. The princess had never seen this guy before. He was old — really old. Display-in-a-museum old. Lunaria suddenly felt a little bad for picking on such a frail creature. The man was breathing heavily, as if he'd run to her room in a hurry. As he should have — she had been waiting for her juice for six minutes already! — but the hustle had clearly winded the old guy. She hoped he wouldn't die from the effort. Juice was important, but probably not that important.

Studying the man more closely, Princess Lunaria had a sudden realization that the guy might not be able to bow. If he bent over, he might never be able to stand upright again. He'd just fold in half and stay that way for the rest of his life. Which probably wasn't much longer, to be honest.

"Or perhaps you can't bow?" Lunaria asked the servant, loudly and slowly. She wondered if he was so old he couldn't even hear anymore? It was actually quite generous of her parents to employ someone so ancient. It bothered her that she had to deal with the old geezer, but she was willing to do some charity work now and again. So she made her voice even louder and asked, "Does it hurt your old frail joints to bow?"

The man cleared his throat. "Your Highness," he said in a surprisingly commanding voice. "Your planet is in danger. Your people are in danger. You are in danger. We must get you out of here immediately."

"You, sir, are the one in danger," Lunaria scoffed. "In case you hadn't noticed: I. Haven't. Had. My. Juice."

There was an enormous crash somewhere in another wing of the palace. Adora gave a short yip of alarm. The old man stepped into Lunaria's room and closed the door quickly. "If you please," he said warmly, though there was a nervous edge to his voice. "I am Chamberlin, the senior butler in Athenia's royal court."

"You're Chamberlin," Lunaria echoed, putting one hand on her hip. She batted her golden eyes and said, "And I am waiting. For my juice."

Chamberlin heaved a sigh, then rustled around in a small spacepack that had been strapped to his stooped shoulders. With a grim smile, he pulled out a wrinkled silver drink pouch. He thrust it at the princess. "Drink up and let's go, Princess."

She stared at the container of orange liquid, horrified. "What is that?"

"Juice," the old man grumbled. "Sort of." With a subtle roll of his eyes, Chamberlin pulled a small straw off the back of the juice pack and pushed it into the pouch. He held it out in front of Lunaria's face again and said, "I always keep one of these with me in case of emergencies. Drink, Your Highness."

She reached forward, offered him a small, inauthentic smile, and took the juice. A moment later, she shrieked and shoved the pouch back into his hands. "It's cold!" she said. "I don't hold cold things. I need you to wrap it in a cozy. Or you must hold it for me. My hands are delicate."

Chamberlin closed his eyes as another crash rang out somewhere below them. He muttered, "I will not hold it for you. Unless your hands are broken, you can hold your own juice. My service to the galaxy is keeping you and four other princesses safe, not feeding you. I am your bodyguard and your guide. And you are not a baby."

Lunaria's mouth flew open. "How dare you speak to...