Page 60 of Star Champion

“I know you were last night.”

“I did a lot of things last night,” she said, softer.

“Yes, you did.”

They exchanged knowing smiles.

A rapid chiming noise radiated from deep in Klark’s thigh pocket. “A priority call,” he said with a sinking feeling, recognizing the distinctive ring. “I have to take it. Priority calls are not to be ignored.”

“Your family?”

“Usually.” He drew out his comm and wandered away. The screen showed an incoming call from His Majesty the King—Rorrik Vedla. Gladness, relief, annoyance, apprehension: he was not sure what he should feel now that his father had finally decided to contact him. For weeks he had waited for the chance to speak with his sire, but to no avail. Now he would rather do just about anything else.

He sat on a spectator bench in the arena and opened the comm. The screen displayed a fit man with the palest of golden eyes, rich bronze skin, and sideburns frosted with silver. “Father,” Klark greeted, doing his best to mirror his cheerful smile. “What a pleasure, sir. I trust you are well.”

“Yes, very well. And you?” Before Klark could get a word in edgewise, the king continued. “Look, I’m engaged in some tricky trade negotiations at the Wheel, and have only a moment to chat. Katjian spoke with me earlier, and that’s the reason for my call.”

“What has happened?” Klark’s stomach knotted. Had the girl broken her promise and fled before Prince Hajhani’s visit?

“What? No, nothing happened. She’s all atwitter over your newest bajha recruit.” His lips spread into a brilliant white smile. “I never took your sister for a bajha fan.”

“It seems to be a new interest,” Klark said dryly.

“She tells me you’ve flown off to the far reaches of the frontier to recruit a young mystery player. A teenager of common birth.” The king leaned forward, his expression eager. “So, he’s quite talented, then?”

Klark shifted his focus to where Jemm warmed up with stretches, bending forward with willowy grace to hug her calves. A memory from last night of those calves draped over his shoulders exploded inside him. He tightened his jaw and made a fist on his thigh. “Yes. The best I’ve ever seen, sir. A potent addition to a very strong team—Team Eireya has a very real chance at winning the Galactic Cup this year. It is my intent to make that happen.” There it was. He had revealed his intentions to his father. When before he had only imagined doing so, this made it real.

His father’s expression echoed pure delight. “Councilman Toren told me of your confidence regarding the Cup. Excellent, son. I can’t tell you how welcome this news is after…the events of the past few years.”

Theevents. Was that what his father called Klark’s transgressions now?

The king’s tone took on a quieter, more confidential tone. “I cannot suffer another season seeing the B’kahs or even the Virs ranked above us. I’m proud you’ve taken such command of the team. The press has taken the good news and run with it. The prospect of a new and talented unknown has only intensified the interest.”

Only Katjian had known of Jemm—or, rather, Kes. She could not be blamed for telling their father; she did it to present Klark in the best possible light, he was sure. But now that King Rorrik and Toren were aware of Sea Kestrel, the rest of the clan elders at the Wheel would spread gossip faster than a tree full of chatter-crows. With so many ears in close proximity covering government happenings at the station, the seat of the Trade Federation, the news would make the jump from political commentators to sports reporters at light speed. This time of year there was always rapid speculation about the coming season, driven by impatient fans. Before long, all the major sports news venues would run the story, if they were not already doing so.

There went anything resembling anonymity. From this point forward the media would be relentless trying to learn more about Jemm.

“I couldn’t be more pleased, son. I’ve not seen such positive buzz about our clan in some time. Keep up the good work. Make me proud. Hope to see you soon.”

“Yes, sir. Me, too.”

After the call ended, Klark stared at the comm he gripped in his hand. It felt like a tether dragging him back to the life he had left behind these past few glorious weeks. The communication from his father served as a firm reminder that his life was not one able to be left behind. He was still second in line for the throne to the longest-lived dynasty in known galactic history. He was still expected to abide by the duties and responsibilities that position required, and to maintain his loyalty to his clan above all else.

Make me proud.

Klark’s stomach churned like it used to do at the palace. A heavy weight settled down to roost once more on his shoulders. The sense of not being good enough returned to the back of his mind, of being a very distant second choice, of being prone to making blunders that resulted in harming the two men he most loved and respected. The sense of happiness and accomplishment he had only recently come to enjoy dimmed as the cloud of his real life passed over it.

His plan to train a star player of unbelievable talent to propel Team Eireya to the championships was not unsound. However, it was risky due to the secret involved. He had been poring over the Treatise of Trade every spare minute to bolster his argument why Jemm should be permitted to play in the open as a female. It was a daunting undertaking made more so because the word “bajha” was not mentioned in every section possibly related to the sport. His ancestors had an exasperating way of being overly broad to allow interpretation. Over the years some of those interpretations had come to be seen as law when they were obviously not meant to be. Or, sometimes it was the opposite when passages that were very specific were used as metaphors. But if the answer was in there, he would find it. It had become a quest.

Now, every sharp eye in the Vedla Clan would be on him—and on Sea Kestrel. It necessitated a much higher level of caution. And what was he doing? Frolicking in the pool with her. Taking her into his bed.

Never be complacent. Be vigilant in all things.

An unstable mix of anger and shame boiled up inside him. Jemm Aves was not his for the taking. She was the Vedla Clan’s star player. His duty was to protect her, and to protect their plan. The closer they came to the start of the official season, the more critical that became.

The Galactic League would hang them both out to dry if they found out. But Jemm’s situation was far more critical than his quest to repair his family’s standing. Her success as a player was vital to her family’s welfare. He had no idea how the league administration would react if they learned of her identity, or, perhaps worse, how the Federation fans would react.

“Are ya all right?”

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