Page 87 of Star Prince

Klark made a hissing noise. “Ché, what are you doing?”

Ché took Ian’s wrist in the traditionalVashhandshake, gripping his arm with passion not evident in his composed expression. Then Ché nodded in Tee’s direction. “Princess.”

“Your Highness,” she replied in a quiet voice.

They held each other’s gazes for a few moments longer than what made Ian comfortable. Both had been children when they first met. Neither could have imagined the consequences of their doomed arranged union. When Ché finally spoke, Ian realized he had been holding his breath. “I am experiencing a family crisis that disturbs me greatly,” he said with a glance at Klark. “I ask for your guidance in choosing the best way to proceed.”

“Go on,” Ian said carefully.

Klark snatched Ché’s arm. “This is not what we planned! You were to challenge him.”

“No,” said Ché. “That’s the old way. Rom is correct. We’re the generation who can ensure a future of peace—but only if we adapt as times change.” He waved his hand at Ian and the crowd surrounding them. “Times have changed.”

“You would give the reins of our kingdom to this barbarian?”

The crowd sensed something had gone wrong. Their cheers turned to boos. Ian glanced from brother to brother. “What’s going on?”

“We formally challenge your claim to the throne,” Klark declared. “It’s a ritual fight of ancient origins, fought without weapons and not to the death.” He paused. “Though at times that happens.”

Ian wracked his brain, thinking of all the readings he had studied, and came up empty-handed. “I’ve never heard of a ritual challenge.”

Ché scowled at his brother. “My brother makes it sound common. In fact, it has never once been enacted, and it won’t be now.”

Klark threw off his cloak. “If you won’t do what is right, I will.” Klark’s hate-filled gaze settled on Ian. “I hereby challenge you, Earth-dweller, in the name of my brother, Prince Ché, firstborn son of the Vedlas, the rightful heir to the throne.”

Ian’s neck muscles tightened. Though it was tempting, he wouldn’t stoop down to Klark’s level. Always the best way around a bigot’s ignorance was a thoughtful, non-threatening approach. “It’s obvious we’re in disagreement here. We can solve our differences without violence. By talking—”

Klark’s fist came out of nowhere and caught him in the jaw. He staggered backward, his eyes watering from the knifelike pain. Tee’s cry carried above roar of the crowd. Her fear for him invaded his psyche.

“Coward. Unschooled savage.” Klark swung at him again. This time Ian blocked his fist, absorbing the shock with his open hand. The impact sent him to his knees, and Klark’s boot arced toward his face. But because of his Tae Kwon Do training, his hands were already there. He hooked Klark’s leg by the ankle and swept the prince onto his back.

Around the globe, outrage reigned. In the United Nations, talks between diplomats and theVashchief envoy broke down. In a bar in Sydney, Australia, the patrons turned angry eyes toward a loneVashtourist.

“Hey, mate. You’re not welcome here.” In a commotion of fists and jeers, the extraterrestrial found himself tumbling over the sidewalk. Soaked with beer, he landed in a heap by a parked car.

In the White House, the president bellowed, “This is the man you want to bring to the negotiation table, Randall? Our cool-headed mediator?”

“What would you have him do, Mr. President, put his tail between his legs and run?” The senator exchanged glances with Rom’s trade minister. “My money’s on Hamilton,” he drawled. “How aboutyours, Vash?”

Sprawled on his back,Klark groaned.

Ian had spent his teenage years practicing martial arts, earning his black belt. But fighting on pavement was a lot more serious—and painful—thanlanding on mats. Rubbing his throbbing hand, Ian stood over his opponent. “Klark, you made your point. Now let’s work things out. This isn’t what Rom would want.” Not that he had any right to say what the king wanted or didn’t, seeing that he was here against the man’s orders. “I’ll help you up.”

The prince nodded humbly and raised his arm. Their hands clasped. Then Klark yanked Ian off balance and hurled him over his head.

The world spun, and Ian landed hard. The impact knocked the wind out of him. Choking, tasting blood, he writhed over the cement, his neck and back burning with pain. He was vaguely aware of the shouting crowd, his sister and Tee trying to reach him but being held back. He tried to get up, but almost passed out. He couldn’t see, and his ears rang so loudly he couldn’t hear anything else. All he had ever believed in was solving conflict through reason. Now, ironically, he stood to lose everything he valued on the outcome of what was nothing more than a street fight.

Klark’s boots crunched back and forth on the pavement. Bitterness spewed out of him. “Is this the man you want as king?” he called. “Look at him, squirming on the ground like an unearthed invertebrate. He wants to talk, eh? It’s because he can’t fight.”

“Enough,” Ché told his brother.

“Enough, is right, Brother. If he can’t stand up for what he believes in, how is he supposed to defend the galaxy?” Klark’s disparaginglaugh carried across the rooftop.

Ian growled. Now he was starting to get pissed.Hot damn! Ian Hamilton’s going to kick some butt. Tae kwon do.His sister’s words the day he had learned Randall was coming to the frontier came back to haunt him. “You prefer the thinking man’s approach,” she had teased. “Diplomacy is paramount; ‘make love not war,’ theVash Nadahcreed. Hey, it worked for most of eleven thousand years, right? But sometimes, you just have to kick a little ass.”

Klark loomed over him. “Are we finished already, Earth-dweller? Are you ready to relinquish your claim to the throne and hand it over to a real man?” Grabbing Ian’s collar, theVashprince yanked him to his feet with one hand and hurled a punch with his other.

Ian blocked the strike and hit Klark in the chin. A roundhouse kick sent the stunned prince to the ground. “Actually, I’m going to kick your uppity ass.”

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