“Yes, let’s get our little brother fitted for his loincloth,” Alek teased. “We wouldn’t want it falling off during the festivities.”
“You’re right,” Vladan boasted, puffing out his chest. “It wouldn’t do for all the women to want me after such a display of prowess. I am only allowed one wife.”
Bron gave a light brotherly snort of disbelief as he urged his mount down the hillside. “Come. Let us report to our uncle. He will want a royal accounting before all is lost to drinking and dancing.”
2
Dusk claimed the small planet of Qurilixen, turning the reddish-brown earth into a dark and brilliant red. The oversized leaves drooped on their branches, as if sleeping off the long year. They emitted a subtle smell unique to the night hours. Bron’s nose caught the scent easily behind the smoke of bonfires. He loved that smell.
The grooms stood in two lines, forming two walls of flesh the procession of brides would walk through to find their matches. Behind them the married men sat in throne-like chairs with their wives firmly upon their laps. Music and laughter resounded over the grounds. Bonfires cast the attendants in stark relief. Torches lit dim earthen pathways leading through the large pyramid tents beyond the main clearing. Ribbons and banners floated on the breeze in many brilliant colors. Bron knew where his tent would be waiting for him, though he had never been inside it.
Darkness always brought with it a mystical feeling. It was a time when the dragon inside them lifted its head and urged the human part to play. Later, as those lucky enough to find a wife disappeared into tents, the population would spread out over the valley to engage in various pleasures.
Bron shifted his hips. As was tradition he wore a loincloth, a gold band around his bicep, a black leather mask to hide his face from forehead to upper lip, and the sacred crystal around his neck. Though they teased each other about it, his people were hardly ashamed of the naked form.
Bron had sworn to himself that he would merely go through the motions. He would not get excited, would not get his hopes up. Then the door to the Galaxy Brides’ ship opened over the docking plank, and he couldn’t stop his heart from quickening or his lungs from filling with air to hold a deep breath. For a long moment, silence pervaded inside of him. The world stilled.
Then chaos.
The married women burst into laughter. From his place in line, Bron saw several of the younger men shouting and posing for the prospective brides. They were too young to participate in the ceremonies, but that didn’t stop them from secretly hoping one of the brides would see them and choose. It happened, rarely, but it did. Unlike the grooms, the onlookers wore the traditional tunic-style clothing of his people.
The brides waited at the mouth of the ship, appearing in a single file line that disappeared into the depths of the metal corridor. He narrowed his eyes, letting his vision shift with gold as he tried to see more details. The women were covered in the fine gauze and silk of the traditional Qurilixian gowns. The slinky material stirred against the skin when they moved, hugging tight over the hips and flaring out around the legs in thin strips. Soft silk shoes encased their feet. The gowns fell low over the breasts to reveal a generous amount of cleavage. A belt of sorts went across their backs. But, instead of looping in the front, they continued to the sides, holding the wrists low like silken chains, and winding halfway up the arm to lock over the elbows. The women couldn’t lift their arms over their heads.
His blood felt as if it boiled in his veins. The women looked so soft and feminine. He ached to touch one. Closing his eyes, he tried to beg the gods for their blessing, but the words never formed. Instead, he asked them with his feelings, the yearning inside his chest that didn’t need words. Let this be the year. He’d made his offering. He lived a good life.
“I would rather face battle,” Mirek whispered next to him. “This anticipation is torture.”
“I cannot believe our little brother does not have to stand in even one of these greeting lines. It is almost laughable that Vladan found his wife before his first ceremony started and here we are, again.” Bron was happy for his little brother, though he would be a fool to deny he was jealous—even as he was a little concerned by the match. Before the ceremony, the king had ordered they be presented to a marriageable daughter of a friend of one of the mining dignitaries. Apparently Lady Clara of the Redding was above attending their “primitive” festival and refused to marry beneath her station. She barely even acknowledged them as she coldly looked over the highest ranking nobles the Draig had to offer. In fact, when Vladan’s crystal began to glow, she merely nodded, turned her back on them and left for her private dressing chamber.
“Aye,” Mirek answered, chuckling. “I do not envy him that bride. I only hope that was paint on her body and not her true flesh. She will scare the children and deliver them into nightmares.”
“I did not see the paint. I was too busy staring at her head. Do you think that tower of hair hides a skull beneath it?” Bron wasn’t sure which was worse—no bride, or one whose humanoid heritage was questionable.
“Our nephews will be born with skulls the shape of pyramids.” Mirek laughed. Bron knew Mirek was joking and would not be concerned by the woman’s appearance. As the Mining Ambassador, he spent the most time off planet amongst alien species.
“The gods would not be so cruel,” Bron answered. Even as he said it, he turned his attention to where his brother Alek waited. Alek’s hand was clenched over his chest, holding his crystal as if it would crush the stone before it had a chance to work. Bron didn’t approve of the gesture, but he understood the desire to be done with it all. Alek’s expression was hard and his features flushed as if he’d recently shifted to dragon form and had been running through the forest. Perhaps that’s exactly what his brother had done. Alek had been late getting to the receiving line. It was possible Vladan’s unexplainable good luck had stirred Alek’s jealousy. Better to run off his frustrations than to show them before the brides. Alek, seeing his attention, nodded once. Bron returned the gesture.
Mirek’s smile faded as he, too, looked at Alek. “Would they not?”
Bron turned his attention from his brothers to the brides. Like the previous years, Galaxy Brides did not disappoint. The women were lovely. Bron sighed, looking down at his bare feet. Firelight illuminated his flesh. The first woman walked by, drawing his attention back up. He tried not to look at them directly. It was almost over.
Aeron really hated her sister. If there had been any doubt before, this moment decided it. When she pictured flying in to save the primitive race of helpless miners, this is not what she had expected to find, and this was definitely not what she had expected to be wearing.
As she stepped off the docking plank onto the hard earth, she could feel the ground’s texture through her thin silk slippers. She longed for her military-issue boots. A breeze stirred her gown, lifting it above her knees. She missed the comfortable familiarity of her uniform. In a gown, she felt too exposed to the elements, especially on the naked flesh of her thighs.
Inside she trembled with fear. This was why she was an analyst and not a soldier. Aeron wasn’t built for adventure. She liked safety and routine and the ordinary. There was nothing ordinary about a planet filled with desperate males. What if they were sexually depraved from the lack of women? What if they tried to drag them off into… She glanced around, her heart starting to beat faster in panic. What if they tried to drag them off into the nearby tents? What if…?
Aeron forced her gaze upward, past the shoulder of the woman walking in front of her. The potential husbands were lined up in two rows, creating a path the women were to walk through—a path lined with naked male flesh. And not just male flesh, really handsome male flesh, bronzed solid muscles, piercingly lustful eyes, barely contained warrior energy. This was not safe or routine. These men represented chaos and danger. They represented everything she tried so hard to cut from her neat little life. Which meant Riona probably loved it.
He
r breathing deepened in fear. What was she doing here? These men clearly didn’t need her help defending themselves. How arrogant of her to think the barbarians needed her help! Perhaps her Federation superiors had been right. This was none of her business. Her feet stopped moving for a brief moment as she thought of turning back around. It was useless. A woman bumped into her back and gave a soft swear of protest, forcing Aeron forward.
Fur loincloths clung to masculine hips. Golden bands of intricate design clasped around sinewy biceps. From their solid necks hung crystals bound with leather straps. Aeron tried not to stare, but it was a little hard. Firelight glistened on their oiled bodies. The Qurilixian males were every inch the proud warrior class they were rumored to be, some even seemed to tower nearly seven feet tall.
Some of the crystals around the men’s necks began to glow, signifying they’d met their mates. Agreements were made already? How? Nothing was said. Had she missed some piece of vital information on the ship? She tried to close her eyes to access the uploaded information, but the woman behind her shoved her forward none too gently.
Galaxy Brides had provided them with uploads of the planet’s culture. It was on the outer edge of the Y quadrant, inhabited by primitive males similar to Viking clans of Medieval Earth. The Qurilixian worshipped many gods, favored natural comforts to modern technical conveniences, and actually preferred to cook their own food without the aid of a simulator. They were technically still classified as a warrior class, though both sides were said to be peaceful for nearly a century—aside from petty territorial skirmishes that broke out every fifteen or so years between a few of the rival houses. All the cold hard facts uploaded into her brain did not prepare her for the reality.
Aeron pulled her arms close to her body as she neared the first male. The grooms looked as if they might reach out and grab hold at any moment. The fear inside her grew. She wanted to run. But where? Behind the statuesque bridegrooms were a rowdy bunch of men posing for their attention. The unruly men were dressed in tunics and pants, but the large barbaric size of them was evident. At least the grooms weren’t moving, not like the surrounding crowd. She hugged her arms tighter.
“I hate you, Ri. I hate you. I hate you,” she whispered, as if the words could somehow give her strength. They didn’t. Even as she said it, she knew her current situation was mostly her own fault. “I hate—I have a mission. I have a mission. I ha…”
Her words trailed off as her attention was pulled sharply to the side. Electricity shocked the full length of her body, but the strange thing was nothing touched her to account for the sensation. One of the tall warriors caught her attention and held it. His head was down as he looked at his feet. Dark brown shoulder length hair hid his masked face from view. She had a peculiar urge to push that hair aside, to feel its thickness through her fingers, to lift his eyes to hers. However, his crystal was glowing with a bright inner light. A small wave of disappointment filled her. He was taken… not that she wanted to marry the man. There was no way a woman like her could stay in a place like this. Her heart would surely give out from the constant fear.
Aeron quickly averted her gaze and walked faster, willing the woman in front of her to move. The memory of bronzed flesh and bowed head wouldn’t leave her. The man was built like the other natives—intimidatingly thick chest, corded neck, the oh-so-defined hip and stomach muscles like some of the more advanced Federation fighters had. Modern technology could only take the human body so far. The rest was hard physical work.
Aeron kept her head down and kept walking, refusing to make eye contact with any of the locals. It was with relief that she made it to the end of the procession. The crowd had quieted, not that she’d noticed when or how. Her heart beat so loud she could hear it in her ears. A cool breeze pressed the flimsy material of her dress against her body. She felt too exposed. She couldn’t look up. The short veil affixed to her upswept hair tickled her cheek. She made a move to swipe it away, but the silken belt connected to her wrists kept her hands down.
Unable to help herself, she peeked back over her shoulder. The ship stood tall in the background, the docking plank lifting. The bachelors stared after them. Not all of them had glowing crystals, but several did. Her gaze moved to the man with a bowed head. He no longer looked at the ground, but now stared after the brides. Aeron quickly turned before his eyes met hers. He was more handsome than she could have imagined—even with a mask hiding half his face. Too handsome, if the truth was told. Men that beautiful made her nervous. She preferred men who were… Well, if her dating record was any indication… Who in the black hole of Hades was she trying to fool? The very idea of her having a dating life was laughable.
With little choice but to follow where the other brides led, Aeron made her way to a raised platform where a gigantic feast had been laid out. Her sister was already seated with a drink in her hand by the time Aeron found her place at the table. She kept her eyes averted, hoping not to draw too much attention. To not eat would be rude, but she should be able to duck away after the meal to wait out the ceremony.
Lord Bron stared at the glowing crystal about his neck. He’d been so lost in thought, so preoccupied with the idea of never finding his life mate, that he hadn’t been paying attention to the procession of brides. How could he have missed his future wife? She was here. This was his night. And he didn’t even know which one she was. To admit he hadn’t been looking as she passed would be an insult not only to her, but to his pride. But then, how to find her?
His heartbeat quickened. Which one? Tradition held that he’d know the moment he looked at her, but he hadn’t been looking. Desire and hope built within him. He grabbed hold of his crystal, feeling its energy pulse against his hand. Finally. A bride!
He would know her when he saw her, but for now he had to go give thanks to the gods. Turning, he walked in the opposite direction of the brides. He wanted to shout his good fortune, but instead kept quiet as was tradition. The men who had been blessed needed to go to the temple and give thanks. Those who were not fortunate needed to drown their sorrows in stout liquor.
“It is a good year,” Mirek said beside him. “Many blessings on your union, brother.”
Bron automatically looked down to Mirek’s chest. His crystal lay dormant. Sadness filled him for his brother, and he knew whatever he said in comfort would prove futile, so he said nothing.
“I will attend to the campsite before traveling home,” Mirek said. “I will not wait for you. Enjoy your good fortune.”
Bron nodded once as Mirek pulled away to go with the others who had not found mates.
Alek moved to join him, pausing to receive Mirek’s words of blessing on the way. Alek’s crystal glowed but there was a strange look in his eyes.
“Is all well?” Bron asked.
Alek gave a small laugh, but the effort was forced. “What could be wrong? Three of us have been blessed, as well as all of our princely cousins. For whatever reason, the gods have finally decided to smile upon us. It is a good night for all but Mirek. Let us give thanks and collect our brides before the gods realize what they have done and change their minds.”
“Don’t even think such things,” Bron scolded, worried that his crystal would stop glowing because he didn’t know the face of his woman. He glanced behind him, hoping for some jolt of recognition as he caught a glimpse of a couple of the women. Nothing came to him and he was forced to join the others at the temple.
3
Aeron wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to partake of the roasted two-horned pigs and blocks of Qurilixian blue bread with whipped cheese. The meal was laid out on large trenchers, set directly before the brides, and spread over long wooden tables. Servants carried pitchers, as if their entire purpose was to ensure that each woman’s goblet stayed filled with a berry wine they called Maiden’s Last Breath. Aeron was moderate when it came to drinking, but the sweet taste was delicious and the liquor did much to calm her shaking hands.
“I don’t know why I’m so
nervous,” she whispered to herself for lack of anyone to talk to. “It’s not like I’m about to get married.”
Most of the Galaxy Brides’ women dined in a strange state of excited silence, whispering and giggling. Others flirted with the handsome servants. With the straps on the gowns, it was hard for the brides to lift their arms, so the servants retrieved anything they desired for them. Some even went so far as to offer the women food by their own hands, her sister Riona being one of those brazen women.
Aeron hadn’t really connected with any of the women on the ship, not like her sister. Instead of socializing, she looked over the campground. The bachelors were gone and the people she could see all looked the same. It was impossible to tell who was in control and who was merely a subject of the realm.
The married couples dined around the campfire at a distance from the prospective brides. Wives fed their husbands in a sensual display of romance. Aeron tried very hard not to stare, even as she thought it barbaric. The entire place was chaos and it made her extremely uncomfortable.
“Are you nervous?”
Aeron blinked, looking to her side at the question. She recognized Nadja from the ship, but the woman wasn’t talking to her. The question had been directed at another shipmate, Morrigan. Nadja whispered something and began to laugh.
“Yes,” Aeron whispered, answering the question that wasn’t meant for her. “I’m very nervous. I wish I was home where it’s safe and predictable.”
A glance at her laughing sister showed Riona was not having the same lonesome time. It figured. Riona always made fast friends no matter where she was.
“They’re very big, aren’t they?” Nadja said to Morrigan.
“Yes, the men are very large,” Aeron whispered again, still talking to herself as she thought of the bridegroom with the bowed head. A servant lifted a brow as he looked questioningly at her, but she waved him away. She listened for more of the conversation, but her eavesdropping proved fruitless and she finished her meal in silence.
His Highness the Duke Page 3
