Page 43 of Star Champion

“I am officially unemployed,” Jemm said the next morning, dropping her gear bag, packed with her former work clothes, on the floor of the arena. She knew how futile it probably was, going into the mine boss’s office to explain how sorry she was for giving up a job she had loved, but she had tried anyway. The boss-cog laughed at her attempt to quit and told her she was fired. It left her with no palatable options to earn a living if she did have to return, as Ma feared. She would be doomed to freelance laboring down in the caves, or worse. It only reinforced her determination to escape, and to get her family out with her.

“You won’t be unemployed for long,” Sir Klark said, handing her a tablet device. “Here are the terms of the agreement.” He sat next to her and patiently went over the compensation, her obligations, and notated her request to have an advance on her dazzlingly high salary so she could allocate it to Ma and Nico separately.

Jemm touched the pad of her finger to sign the contract, and it was done. Excitement, relief, and fear whirled inside like a dust devil out on the plains. She had been signed to a pro bajha team. Signed!

“Congratulations, Kes.” Sir Klark’s eyes glowed. “Onward to the season ahead.”

The two pros applauded. “Now comes the hard part— Practice,” Xirri said with a feigned groan as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Let’s go!” Skeet clapped his hands. “Into the ring.”

The following days were one long grueling session of physical and mental training. Bajha had always been a mental escape, but now she saw the intense conditioning expected of her to be able to compete at the galactic level. There were Skeet’s merciless drills, consisting of squats and lunges, to countless push-ups and pull-ups, followed up with actual matches. If not for her high level of fitness, thanks to her job and all the times she had pitched in to help the loaders, she might have had difficulty keeping up. Her favorite part of training were the sessions where Sir Klark made her try to locate him in the dark while he wore his special glasses and evaded her. It was a chance to use her senses and her mind to focus on theVashwithout having to pretend she wasn’t.

While studying vids of actual matches after lunch the second afternoon, a staffer walked up to Sir Klark and bowed. “Sir, you have an incoming message on your private comm.”

Sir Klark helped himself to a cold drink and walked away to retrieve his comm device, the enviable way the galactic elites could keep in touch with each other. Jemm used the moment to ask Skeet and Xirri, “I call him Sir Klark, but sometimes others call him My Lord, or Lord Vedla. A lot of the time you don’t call him anything. Which is right?”

“None of the above, technically,” Skeet answered, confusing her further. “But he considers himself a part of the team, and we think the same of him. He doesn’t much care if we leave off a few Sirs or Your Highnesses here and there—in fact he prefers it. He’s an excellent bajha player in his own right, and would have gone pro if his circumstances were different.”

“What circumstances?” Jemm asked.

“He didn’t tell you?” Xirri asked. “He’s a full-bloodedVashprince, the second-born son of the Vedlas, second in line to the throne of one of the eight royalVash Nadahfamilies.”

Jemm blinked in shock at the men. “He never said anything, no.”

Holy dome. Sir Klark wasPrinceKlark. The son of a king and queen! She winced, thinking about how most of the time she forgot to call him by any formal form of address, even forgetting at times he wasVash. He didn’t seem bothered by it, of course, but, crat, her manners.

“He wanted to be incognito here on Barésh,” Skeet explained. “He felt calling attention to the fact he was a prince wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he had security concerns. I don’t know. He wouldn’t say. The entire staff is having a hard time remembering not to use ‘Your Highness’, or ‘Prince’ in public.”

Sir Klark returned, the comm in his hand, his regal bearing making sense now that she knew what he was. Not Sir Klark, but Prince Klark. Yet the familiar crease was back between his brows as he focused on the screen.

“When are you coming home?” a lilting female voice asked in the same accent as his.

“I am not sure.”

Jemm craned her neck to peek at the screen. Seeing an animated, beautiful young woman there made her insides squeeze with an unexpected cold and disappointed knot of jealousy.Of course he’s got a sweetheart or a wife, you silly trill rat. He’s a prince.

The woman’s oval face and coiffed hair decorated with tiny gems were stunning. HerVasheyes narrowing at Prince Klark did so with love, even as she fired questions at him. “So, what are you doing?”

“Team business.”

Her perfect, pink lips spread in a smile. “Is Yonson Skeet there?”

“Yes, Kat. He’s here.” His eyes slid sideways to a now grinning Skeet. Then theVashrolled his eyes at Jemm to bring her in on the joke. “My sister,” he mouthed at her confusion.

“Ah.” A sister, and not a wife. It didn’t mean there was no wife, however.

“You still haven’t told me why you’ve called,” Prince Klark said. “Is everything all right at home?”

“I wanted to say hello and…” An identical ridge to his appeared between Kat’s golden-red brows. “Prince Hajhani is coming for a visit.” Her mouth twisted. “I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I don’t want to know him.”

“Give him a chance.”

“Why? It will only encourage everyone in both families who want to marry me off to him.” She tilted her head. The jewels in her hair sparkled. “Can you point the lens at Mr. Skeet?”

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