Page 46 of Star Champion

He let out a quick, dry laugh. “My protectiveness is not an asset, I assure you. Let me just say that my protective instincts have led me astray. Besides, my duties keep me far too busy for frivolous pursuits such as wife hunting. As the second-born son, my duty is to support my elder brother, Ché, the crown prince. He’s the heir, and I’m the spare.”

“The spare what?”

“The spare prince. I’m to step in if anything happened to my brother. It’s been my duty to do so since the day I was born. But now that he and his new wife will start producing little princes and princesses, I’ll be bumped down the rungs of succession.”

“That will give ya less duties, and more time for frivolous pursuits. Problem solved.”

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. It came from behind her. She spun toward it. “I never thought past being my brother’s second,” he said. “Until recently.” In the ensuing few beats of silence, she intuited a sense of dissatisfaction in him.

He lived a life of unimaginable wealth and privilege, yet he had no real purpose in life other than existing. In contrast, every breath she took had purpose, every step to make a better future for her family. But then she looked survival and starvation in the face on a daily basis. To him they were mere words.

“But in my culture, fidelity, marriage, and family are held in high regard—meaning aVashman does not make the selection of a mate lightly. Since I will not settle in any way, shape, or form, a permanent romantic pairing is not in my future.”

“I won’t settle, either.”

“Ah, Kes.” His tone sounded vaguely condescending, as if he were an elder brother advising her. “You’re young yet.”

“How oldare you?”

“Twenty-seven, standard.”

Only three years’ difference. “Ah, Prince Klark,” she mimicked. “You’re young yet, too. It’s too early for ya to give up on romance.”

“Romance?”

“Aye. Why not?”

“It’s a ridiculous notion, that’s why.”

She ducked as the rounded tip of his sens-sword whooshed past her shoulder. She escaped him, but only barely. Or, maybe only because he let her get away. After all, he could see in the dark and she could not.

“Great Mother. Why am I telling you all this?”

“I keep asking.” Jemm gripped her sens-sword, tracking the sound of his voice as he circled her.

“But I keep answering. What have I not confessed? There can’t be much left unsaid. Not even my sister Katjian can coax such natter out of me. Much to her dismay, I can assure you.”

“When it comes to interrogation you’ve met your match.”

“Apparently so. Now, be silent.”

Disappearing, he sought to engage her on a different plane. She cast her net of awareness wide. In her mind it spun through the air, fanning out over a cerulean sea. He was out there, somewhere. She would catch him, reel him in. The sense of his presence was strong, as it always was; but with the advantage of sight, he evaded her net, reappearing anywhere, and everywhere. It kept her on her toes, mentally, but also a little off balance. That was the entire point of these exercises. The mind, like the body, needed to be worked hard in order to become stronger.

Come, Kes. Find me. I see you. Excellent. Now, try harder. You can do more. See me...feel me. You are better than you know. Yes, that’s it. In the silence, they danced in the place called the in-between that only bajha players and those who dabbled in the mystical knew. Jemm felt the lure to delve deeper, to merge with him, but he was skilled enough to keep her at arm’s length, until, finally, he burst into her cognizance.

In the blackness, she parried him. Their blades skidded crosswise until reaching the hilts. Their gloved knuckles crashed together. No fountain of brilliant violet light crowned the moment, as the swords were disarmed, only the grate of sword against sword, and then the thud of hers landing on his chest plate.

“Lights!” he called out. “Good!” He pulled off his glasses as she stood blinking at the sight of his handsome face in the rising illumination, as if she had rolled over in bed to find him next to her. “You keep improving, Kes—exponentially. Beyond my wildest expectations.”

She bent over to catch her breath, propping her gloved hands on her knees. “Thank you.”

He was equally winded. His skin gleamed with perspiration. “You are one of the most talented players I’ve ever encountered. Taking into account your street-bajha past, perhaps youarethe best. The kind that comes along only once in a lifetime, if even that.” He laughed quietly as he loosened the collar of his suit. “How lucky am I to have found you?”

He wore that wondrous expression again, the same one that took her breath away the first day she saw him. Her heartbeat stuttered, her insides warming, once again she wished it came from a fella who was interested in her as a lass, not from a team owner thrilled about his latest recruit. But she extricated her gaze from his. “I’ll work hard to be the player you say I am,” she managed.

He surged on ahead, heading to the locker room, and she followed. “I thought a few times this morning that you might beat Raff,” he said. “I think you would have had him if it weren’t for the poor condition of your gear, the noise of your suit and boots. You came close.”

She grinned. “Aye. I did.”

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