Page 44 of Star Champion

With a weary exhalation, Prince Klark did as his sister asked. Skeet nodded at the device. “As always, it is good to see you, Your Highness,” he said.

Squaring his shoulders and sitting taller while he did so, Jemm noticed. Great dome, the man was preening! A laugh escaped her.

“Who’s that?” the woman asked.

Jemm clamped her mouth closed so quickly she heard her teeth click.

“Mr. Kes Aves,” Prince Klark explained, pointing the device at Jemm, who sat frozen. “Our newest player. The one you watched that day on the viewscreen. Kes, meet my sister, the incorrigible Princess Katjian.”

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Your Highness,” Jemm said in her deepest voice. She was not sure it was the proper greeting, but it sounded convoluted enough to meet lofty aristo expectations.

“Be warned, Mr. Aves, my brother is very serious about his bajha. One day, I touched—simplytouched—his bajha sword, and he went crazy.”

Prince Klark’s shrug broadcast his opinion that he saw nothing wrong with the accusation. “I would argue that ‘crazy’ is an accurate description of my reaction, but neither is a fully functional sense-sword a toy.” His hooded gaze slid to Jemm. “My sister feels that females should be taught bajha.” His thickened voice was a dam against laughter that wanted to spill out.

The pros burst into laughter for him. Jemm bit the inside of her lip to hold back a few colorful swear words to shut the two up. In a heartbeat, the princess noticed. “You do not agree?” the girl asked her.

If only ya knew how much I don’t. My Da taught me out of his love of the sport, uncaring whether I was a male or female. But Jemm could not speak her mind. She chose her words with caution. Too much said would raise suspicion. Too little would make her feel like a traitor to her gender. “I think both boys and girls would benefit being taught bajha. Learning to trust your instincts, knowing one’s mind, endurance, confidence, persistence—these are traits that benefit everyone.”

“I agree,” the princess said. “I think some women would make fine bajha players if only they had the chance to be introduced to the sport. It’s nice to see that not all men are as close-minded as my brother—and, apparently, his players too. Well, except for you.”

Xirri snorted, his eyes watering. “I can’t imagine my sister wielding a sens-sword.”

Jemm made a mental note to make Xirri regret his remarks the next time she faced him in the ring.

Prince Klark, to his credit, did not join the pro in derisive laughter. “Everything you said is true, Kes, except for the most important point, which I also tried to explain to Princess Katjian. Bajha is more than a sport. It pays homage to our warrior ancestors. Through bajha we preserve and develop the skills the original saviors of our society used to defeat the warlords.”

The princess glared at the men then addressed Jemm. “My brother insists that since only males can be warriors, females should not learn the sport.”

“There aren’t any warriors on Barésh, and yet bajha is played here,” Jemm argued.

“Street bajha,” Skeet corrected. “And only the men.”

Prince Klark leaned back on the bench, his weight on his elbows, the comm held in one hand, his sister’s frowning face centered in the bright screen. “The other purpose of practicing bajha is the symbolic expression of protecting and defending our women. The gentler, softer gender.”

The princess reacted with an elegant snort. “I won’t bring up the rigors of childbirth, dearest brother, but, please, go on. I do enjoy hearing your ineffective arguments on this matter.”

“On Barésh gentleness is incompatible with survival,” Jemm said.

Prince Klark shook his head. “I can’t say I disagree. However, the very idea of females entering the bajha rings of the Trade Federation is absurd. Imagine a female suited up with a helmet, boots, and a sword. Preposterous. What would be next after donning men’s clothing—cutting off all their hair?” He winced, making it obvious he found the idea revolting.

The pros hooted.

That smarted. Jemm ran a hand over her shorn hair, where her exposed ears stuck out like stones on the plains that the winds had laid bare. More stinging than the comment itself was the fact that she actually cared what theVashthought—or would think—about her appearance if he knew she was a lass. A few days away from the city in the company of well-fed off-worlders had made her soft—spineless—like the compound-dwelling elites she had never wanted to emulate. “I think everyone should be allowed to pursue their dreams, no matter who they are, noble-born or low-born, if it does no harm.”

“Oh, Kes. Yes. Exactly.” Katjian’s gaze melted, her expression adoring. Jemm instantly realized her mistake.

TheVashaimed the comm at his face. “I need to return to practice. Will you be all right?” Jemm recognized a sibling’s concern in his tone. It brought out a softer side in the man.

“I think so.”

“Don’t do anything rash.”

“I promised you, Klark. I’m keeping my head above water. But come home soon. I miss you.”

They bid each other goodbye, and theVashreplaced the comm on the bench, exhaling heavily as he draped an arm across his knees.

“Kes, bud, I think you may have bumped Yonson off his throne,” Xirri said, laughing.

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