Page 4 of Wayfinder
Of course, if she kept throwing knives at my head....
I’d used Jala’s connections to gain entry into the Baron’s suite, intent on making contact with Pearl. I knew the Baron acquired her for his harem, but rumor had it she’d proven herself an excellent chef and earned a place in the kitchens. Something I was most happy to discover. I wouldn’t wish being in Baron Oappo’s harem on my worst enemy.
I’d found her alone, chopping a pika root into thin, almost translucent slices. Her long, delicate fingers handled the knife with confidence and precision. Faux sunlight streamed from overhead, sparking red in the brown hair she wore pulled back into a low, messy bun.
I’d cleared my throat, planning to introduce myself and inform her that her friend Emmy had sent me to affect a rescue. As the wordhelloleft my lips, she glanced up, sharp, deep blue eyes centering on me. Her face was heart-shaped, with pale skin, pink cheeks, and full lips. The shock playing across her face had been breathtaking, and for a moment, I found myself utterly dumbfounded. I’d seen many human females in my life—many females in general—but I had to give her credit for being the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on.
Then she frowned, yelled at me to get the hell out of her kitchen, and threw a knife at my head. I had to admit—it was a decent throw. The blade embedded in the door frame, scantinches from my ear. If I hadn’t been so appalled, I might have been impressed.
I hoped when she discovered her friends sent me to her aid, her desire to kill me might abate.
A faint buzz heralded my sister’s arrival. Jala swept through the door, holding her head at a slight angle as she listened to the diminutive blue-skinned Framaddi female who acted as her assistant.
“The competition transport will be ready to leave the docking pay at seventeen hundred hours tomorrow.” The Framaddi, whose name was Trafelia, held a data pad, short blue fingers flying over the screen.
“Thank you.” Jala met my gaze, a faint arch to her brow. My signal to pay attention. “Has the Baron selected a proctor for the competition?”
“Yes, he has selected Chancellor Qaimus.”
I don’t know who rolled their eyes more, Jala or me. Chancellor Qaimus had a reputation for being rather foolish.
“And the judges?” My sister pressed.
“All are from Baron Oppo and Baron Palloy’s entourage. Counselor Trie of the Romvesians, Lady Jessup of the Aljani, and Master Iffas. I believe he has asked Praxxan to judge as well,” Trafelia said.
The expression that crossed my sister’s face wasn’t pleasant. I could predict with certainty that Praxxan would not be involved in the competition.
“Thank you, Trafelia,” Jala sighed. “Please make sure all safety protocols are in place."
“Yes, Lady.” The small Framaddi gave a curt bow and slung a curve of her lips in my direction before hustling out the door.
“Well?” Again, patience was not my strong suit.
Jala heaved an exasperated sigh, like one of many I received in my childhood, and dropped onto the corner of the sofa. “Human Pearl has agreed to let me select a protector for her.”
“Good.” My hands began checking over the many blades and weapons housed in my bandolier. “I will make myself ready.”
“Hold, brother.” Jala held up her hand again with an exasperated sigh. “Let us wait until just before the transport departs to make contact. It gives human Pearl less time to refuse you.”
“You think she would refuse me?” I felt shocked and a little aggravated by my sister’s words.
Jala’s slender shoulders shrugged. “You tried to enter her kitchen once before, and it did not go well.”
“Not go wellis an understatement,” I snorted, moving to sit on the other end of the sofa.
“She is very particular about having someone in her kitchen,” Jala conceded. “However, I described the dangers of the competition, and she seemed convinced of needing protection. Perhaps if we wait until just before the transport leaves to present you, it will make her more amenable.”
I weighed her words. I’d never admit it aloud, but Jala was usually right.
Our parents died when I was still a youngling. Jala was young, too, just out of her school years, but she never balked at taking responsibility for my care. She always did what was best for me, although at the time, I often didn’t agree. I’d threatened to run away when she insisted we leave our home world in order to further my education, but she’d been right, as usual. Her care allowed me not only to study navigation but to become aWayfinder—a designation that few in the universe possessed. With diligent study and training, I no longer needed the useof maps or star charts. I possessed an inner compass that, no matter the chaos, allowed me to find my way.
The only thing my sister ever did that I didn’t agree with wholeheartedly was her mating with Praxxan. He was a good enough male, from an excellent family and brother to Siemba, who headed the spy network we Vaktaire relied upon to rescue abducted humans. Praxxan adored my sister and doted on her. My sister held a deep affection for him as well. The trouble was, Praxxan was a Stranac, not a Vaktaire, which meant that while my sister tied herself to him in the way of the Stranac, it could never be a true mating in the way of the Vaktaire.
For a Vaktaire to have a true, goddess-blessed mating such as my parents enjoyed, it must be done with another of our kind. The valakana, the ritual whereby a Vaktaire claimed his or her mate, comprised stopping and starting one’s heart many times until it beat in sync with one’s mate. History had proven only the Vaktaire were strong enough to withstand the ritual.
Still, I liked Praxxan. And I practically worshipped Priemba.
As if summoned by my thoughts, the entryway slid open, admitting a bundle of adorableness.
