Page 75 of Star Champion

Mineworkers’ children were home-schooled, if the parents had any education to share, or they gathered in small, informal classrooms with self-taught teachers.

“The Earth-dwellers set up schools all over the city,” Ma explained. “They’re requiring formal education for all the mineworkers now. Treating us like the compound elites, they are.”

A glance toward Nico’s bed curtain revealed that her brother was home and asleep. He must have gotten home late. “Nico’s still Nico, I see.”

A shadow passed over Ma’s face and told Jemm all she needed to know. Her brother had not stopped flirting with danger, embracing unpredictability, and remained a stranger with stability. He still ran from his broken heart and the kind of nightmares no man should have to suffer. Nothing had changed.

“He’s got his fight clubs to keep him busy,” Ma explained, her tone flatter. “Two of them now. He’s making good money he says, but I’ve not seen any. He’s not home much. But, he’s happy. Who can take that from him?”

No one wanted to steal Nico’s happiness.

“I want ya to hide these and keep them safe.” Jemm pulled four cards from her pocket.

With awe, Ma took the starship tickets with an unsteady hand. “Are we leaving, then?”

Jemm gave her head a shake. “Not yet.” Then she proceeded to tell her everything that had happened.

And just like that Klark landed back in his previous life. It felt as oddly familiar yet uncomfortable as an old jacket donned for the first time in years, and after its owner had changed and grown. He had changed and grown during his time away. His old life no longer fit him.

He tossed his travel bag on his bed then crossed the spacious suite to the balcony to soak in the scenery that always gave him so much pleasure, and that he had missed.Home. A pair of raptors soared past, a flash of gray, gold, and black feathers. It was the mated pair he had always enjoyed watching.

He watched, transfixed, as they hunted together, dipping low and soaring over the sea. Two equals—two halves that together formed something greater than one. Many months ago, before Jemm, he had marveled at how the raptors instinctively trusted that the other would be at their side. Back then he had decided that such a bond was something he wasn’t destined to experience. But he was wrong. He had found that kind of bond with Jemm.

Enajhe a’nai. Body and soul. His mate, his heart.

For her, he would fight and win this war. He would defend his family, and defend her. The league had issued only a single terse statement on the matter: Kes Aves had left competition due to personal reasons.

Klark knew he had dodged a bullet. By not admitting that a female had infiltrated the ranks of the Trade Federation’s elite players undetected—winning every match—the league had spared him from being called in to explain to his father, to Councilman Toren, or to any of the other Vedla elders why he had chosen to embarrass the clan by trying to pawn off a female as a pro bajha player. However, he felt anything but relieved. It unsettled him that the league had released such a mysterious statement. He sensed there was more to come. It was like facing a bajha opponent who did not play by the rules. So far Klark had done everything by the book, but he had better be ready for a crippling body shot.

The fans had not taken the announcement well. When Klark left Chéyasenn the uproar was only just getting started. Skeet was chomping at the bit to leak the truth to the press, but Klark asked him to hold off until he gave the okay. This had to be a coordinated effort.

If only he and his father had a better relationship. Then he and Klark could brainstorm the best way forward. But if he presented bad news and what his father might view as half-baked plans, it would make things worse. He thought of consulting with his brother, but Ché was on Earth with his wife, and sounded busy for some time to come. Klark once again was on his own, trying to defend his loved ones.

He left the balcony to change into workout wear in preparation for a long run, a preferred way to organize his thoughts. The suite seemed utterly empty, his boots echoing on the black slab of a floor. Once, being alone was all he wanted. When he was with Jemm, they were able to exist comfortably in silence, often for hours. It was akin to being alone but better. Infinitely better. He missed her all the more, not knowing when he would be able to see her again. What if he had made a horrible mistake, leaving their time apart open ended? What if she moved on without him? After all, he had exacted no promises from her.

Nor did you give her any.

He reeled in his thoughts, again. News was about to break that could leave his team and his clan in shambles. That needed to be his focus. That was why he had returned home.

A run, yes, a very long run along the coast was what he needed.

He was on his way outside when the sight of the table of creatures entombed in amber stopped him short. Frozen forever, they stared helplessly, their maws open in eternal screams. It was like a relic from a past life—someone else’s life. Whatever was he thinking to want this monstrosity in his quarters?

“Bring me a sledgehammer,” he snarled at the startled galley boy who had arrived to clear the plates leftover from a welcome snack. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, pulling himself back. “Disregard that.” Jemm would think it the height of arrogant elite behavior to destroy a priceless artifact on a whim. “Take it—the table. When I return I want it gone from my apartment. Do you understand? Gone.”

It weighed thousands of pounds. Klark did not know how it could be done, but that was not his concern. The boy scurried away to get help.

Outside, it was the most perfect of days. He stopped on the shore path to gaze out to sea for a moment, his hands placed behind his back. The sea was so blue, the sky Eireyan lavender. The scent of sea and sea creatures was intoxicating. All of it stunning. It was a salve for his raw soul. As much as he sometimes sought to escape it, Eireya was in his blood, part of his DNA.

Movement caught his eye. To his right was a fish trawler motoring toward the docks from its daily run. On his left was Uncle Yul, waiting to watch the glistening, rainbow-colored catch spill from the trawler’s holding tank. His posture was regal, his profile trillidium-hard, as he stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, right over left, his boots planted at precisely shoulder width.

Klark blinked away an odd sensation. It was like looking down into a tide pool, expecting to find spiral shells and rock crabs but encountering his own reflection instead. Jerking his right hand from his left, he folded his arms across his chest. His sire, King Rorrik, had long since raised his children, including an heir, the all-important crown prince, freeing his Uncle Yul to live wherever he liked. But Uncle Yul chose to hang around the palace like an extra appendage with no real use.

It hit Klark that he was destined for the same thing. But by some miracle, he was given the chance to do more with his life, to be elsewhere, to be someone important to another human being. To be loved.

But he had let her go.

Uncle Yul pivoted to resume his walk, then halted, seeing Klark. “Ah. Klark. You’re just who I wanted to see. Don’t just stand there, young man. Come here.” His eyes were like a fishing line, reeling him in.

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