The Lost Seal: A Seal Romance

by Bell, Victoria

  “A try, you say? Surprising to see someone who has never been able to win any of his tournaments, in any category, to be competing in the Five Trials. What is it about these humongs that make you do so? Have you been getting a slice on them on the side? Do you like how they feel?” Tusken’s eyes darken as they look at me. “Maybe this one is all flames on the inside.”

  “Why are you here?” Reon ignores the taunt, as do I. I’ve heard worse. Tusken gives a wicked grin.

  “The same reason as you, I think – not disguised by teaching the language. I mean to taste these humongs for myself. One wonders how they fare in the bedroom.”

  Before I have time to react, Tusken reaches over to grab one of my breasts. My eyes bulge out at his audacity, and Reon instantly snarls and swats Tusken’s hand off me.

  “Prince or not, you’ll do well to learn some manners,” he hisses, eyes narrow, teeth showing.

  “As a lordling,” Tusken responds, unperturbed, “you’ll do well not to cross your prince. And now I’m even more curious about this one… I suppose I’ll have to win her then. Won’t I?”

  “It’s despicable, what you’ve done,” Reon says, not backing off.

  “Well, I couldn’t do what you did, sweet lordling.” Tusken licks his lips as he examines me. “See you soon, Red.” He moves away, chuckling to himself as he exits through to his room.

  There’s a short pause, as we process what’s just happened.

  “You should watch yourself in the corridors,” Reon says, still riled up.

  “What an asshole!” I shake my head. I don’t want a groper like that near me. And I’m not sure what the rules are for women here when it comes to authority. I have a sinking feeling I won’t be able to report the prince if he takes me against my will.

  “Unfortunately, in every royal family, there’s a stain,” Reon says. “This one likes to sleep around. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s entering to win a female. Probably family pressures to do so. I mean it, Esther. You’ll need to be careful – and lock your door at all times.”

  The words bounce ominously off my ears. I appreciate his concern, but another thing puzzles me. I wonder why both Yaru got so aggressive over me. Are they like that over women? Does Reon take the deal he’s made seriously enough to defend my honor?

  Apparently.

  It’s a little flattering.

  When Tia comes back and complains about having to watch sweaty aliens smack each other with swords, I happily go along with her to listen, grab food, and also warn her of the prince who seems to want to try it on with the humongs.

  It’s good we get some laughs out of it, but I’m a little worried. Reon can’t be around to protect us all the time.

  We’ll need to find a way of protecting ourselves.

  Chapter Five

  I wonder what my mother would think of me now, seeing me travel around in groups of twos or threes in a hotel on a distant planet, under an alien sun. It would comfort her, I’m sure than to have whatever’s happening there on earth. Women who have mysteriously vanished, leaving nothing behind, no evidence of wrongdoing. I can picture it now. Something that briefly pops up on the social media stream, before vanishing into obscurity.

  Even if the people of our planet did know it was aliens that took us, there’s not exactly a whole lot they can do. Unless we suddenly advance our technology and manage interstellar travel instead of squabbling all the time. I can’t see humans doing that in the next hundred years. Or even two hundred.

  I don’t like imagining my family going through that kind of grief, though. I’ve seen enough documentaries and read enough newspapers to know that the not knowing is the worst part. People would actually prefer to discover outright that you’re dead, then to have the lack of knowledge of where you are. This morning, I tried writing a letter to them. As if I was at a boarding school. After I had finished the letter, I tucked it in the small chest of drawers by my bed. The writing helped, though my writing hand is ugly since we’ve long since been doing everything on computers. No need to learn how to curve your letters neatly when you have a computer where you type the letters yourself and change the font to your leisure.

  It frustrates me how little control I have. About the only thing I am in command of is my mind, and how I cope with the situation around me. But as I am reactive, not proactive, I constantly feel like I’m waiting for the next blow to hit. The next surprise to knock me over.

  Reon still gives us language lessons, though it’s learning the trickier aspects of their language, the nuances, the dialects since we’ve mastered all the basics. According to Reon, the humans are quite good at the language, though they all have bizarre accents when they speak – especially me. Tia imitates the dialect the best, which I guess would make sense, given that she’s a near polyglot.

  The longer I’m here, the more I tap into my mind. I don’t have to put on a mask as I did at school. I’m not getting myself shitfaced at parties, trying to snag boys and maintain the status quo. None of that is remotely useful here. It’s a different environment, which requires a different set of skills.

  Tia and I do everything in our power to avoid Tusken, and it becomes somewhat of an art form. The moment we spot him, if we can, we change path, or move further away from him. If he happens to approach us, we start speaking to one another in English, which irritates him enough to leave us alone, after a futile period of trying to grab our attention.

  And, if he tries to get grabby, one well-placed scream is enough to send the hotel staff running.

  Three hours before the second trial begins, Reon is sat with Tia and me in the dining area, where servers hang out by the counter, waiting to see if we want to order. We’re on a large, rectangular table with a white cloth covering its surface, taking up one end in wooden, hard chairs. We can see the hotel entrance through the windows, and it opens into a garden that’s protected by a dark green hedge. The main path leads to the dirt track we follow to reach the tournament grounds.

  We’re trying out one of the Yaru card games. They have a deck of seventy-eight cards, and we end up trying a game he calls “Line Up,” which is chaining all the cards together to their respective color and numbers. He puts down an eight, I need to follow it with a nine or a seven of the same group, and so on – or continue with another group. We chat as we do so.

  “You don’t strike me like a lord,” Tia says to Reon, as she places a black eleven on my ten. “Like, you don’t stand out of the crowd, you don’t sound like you have a different dialect from anyone else, and you don’t go around boasting about how rich you are.”

  “I assure you,” Reon says, scratching at his cheek, irritated by something, “that I am a constant disappointment to my biological family. My father much prefers my two younger brothers because they grew up doing what he wanted them to do. Since I grew up doing what I wanted to do, it’s constantly baffled and upset them.” His gray eyes are rather hard as he states this.

  I like this. I like being able to listen to his family, and about Tia’s – she claims she’s an only child, and her dad wanted a boy, so he ended up raising her as if he would have raised a boy. Her mother didn’t mind, but it did mean Tia found it difficult to be a girly girl.

  “We all end up disappointing our families sooner or later,” I say, giving them both a smile. “Living with my siblings is like living in hell. We pretty much hate each other, except when we need to put on a good image for the outside world. I’m fairly certain my brat of a sister would have been delighted to know I was missing because it means she can use all of my makeup and clothes and brag about my shoes.”

  “Are humongs not very family orientated, then?” Reon appears genuinely puzzled by this. “I thought it was a given for sentient creatures to develop strong social bonds.” He taps the table, indicating that he can’t go, and I place a purple five down.

  “Oh, we are! We just get it wrong a lot. I’m not the best example,” I say, shrugging.

  “You strike me as social crea
tures. You converse with each other far more actively than the other alien species we’ve encountered. It’s closer to our level – but you claim you have hundreds, thousands of humong languages! How fascinating! We only have Yarussian.”

  We continue this vein for a moment longer, before I deliberately steer the subject to something that’s been biting at me for the past few days. I narrow my eyes as I see Tusken emerge from the stairs, but thankfully, he doesn’t bother approaching us.

  “I need to ask this because it’s annoying me, and I know that we’re all expected to do this sooner or later. Do you guys enjoy sex?”

  Reon looks as if he’s about to choke. Tia blinks, a sly smile spreading across her face, before nodding. “Yeah, I wanna know too.”

  To our surprise, we see a faint pink tint on Reon’s cheeks. Now if he was back on planet earth, we would have teased him mercilessly for that embarrassment. Instead, we keep as straight faces as possible, giving him the time to form his words. “Well, yes. We do. It’s important for us. Like sleeping, eating, drinking, and socializing.”

  “Same.” Tia picks at her teeth, trying to dislodge whatever’s trapped near her gums. “We’re pretty big on the sex part, too.” She grins. “You guys have lots of sex positions or is it all strictly baby making?”

  Reon blushes even darker. “Uh, well. Both. Women can sell themselves for money if they want, and some quite happily do. We have a culture of trading women, and the women like it because they get a share of the profit if they’re traded off as well.”

  “You sell and trade. And that’s because you don’t have many women?” Tia asks this, leaning on her elbow as she listens.

  “It’s getting better. Obviously. But I’m sure you noticed how the crowds at the tournament are mostly male?”

  “I don’t care,” I say, interrupting this vein of conversation. “I want to know if you guys enjoy sex, like – do you have orgasms?” Again, a word that’s in English.

  “She means do you guys get super happy when you have sex. As in, feel-good chemicals?” Tia explains better than me, and Reon’s face blossoms in understanding.

  “Oh! Yes. Yes. What do you call it, orgasm? A chemical that releases in the body from the result of good sex, or…?” He now indicates masturbation awkwardly, and we start laughing.

  Well. This is all interesting information. He continues explaining, though we can tell it’s making him mildly uncomfortable since I imagine he hasn’t had to convey this to any of the alien women he’s conversed with before. From what we gather of Yaru women, they can orgasm just from penetration alone.

  We have a fun time explaining to him that although that can be possible for us, we have a “magic button” that women use to hit their climax. His eyes go so wide at that, and he’s obviously curious enough to want to see this magic button for himself.

  I’m happy, in a way, that the Yaru enjoy their sex. It’s not just some mechanical, primal instinct they must go through just to make babies. They also use it for social bonding and fun with their partners. It comforts me because if I must be in that situation at all, I’d rather know that I’ll be able to enjoy it.

  Of course, my grand total of sex has been two times. The first time was pretty disappointing. I got too drunk at a party and groped the nearest handsome jock I could find. He had about fifty condoms in his bag, which I thought impressive at the time. The second time was a guy I dated for about a month, and he kind of pressured me into it – or I allowed myself to be pressured, because he was popular, and all the girls wanted to date him, except he chose me.

  Being popular doesn’t excuse the fact that he was a major asshole, though.

  Both my sexual encounters have been bad. My best moments have been from what my fingers can do. I don’t need any assistance other than those, so I can just lie back and think of heaven.

  Reon checks the time and sighs both in regret and relief. “Looks like I have to go, humongs. It’s been… interesting, speaking about this with you. You know, a lot of the other alien females we’ve taken are compatible with us, and they certainly can enjoy sex, but they don’t experiment so much with it, or are willing to as much.”

  “What a shame,” I say with a smirk, even as Reon scrapes a bow, and leaves us to get ready for the next event.

  “More mini-golf?” Tia says, and I giggle.

  “God, I hope so. I think the other aliens will knock him out.”

  “I’m a little envious of you, honestly.” Tia licks her lips, her long, thick black hair snagging between our arms. After she untangles herself, she continues, “I should have thought along the lines of what you did with Reon. It seems though he actually likes you. Maybe if he wins, you might have a good life here.”

  “Why can’t any of us can have a good life here?” I retort. I know in talking like this, it might be like admitting defeat. “If we do have to stay here for the rest of our lives, we may as well make the most of it. Or do everything we can to increase our chances of returning home.”

  Tia looks at me for a moment, then nods. Her dark eyes are hard, and I see steel there. The same steel I admire and respect.

  I almost feel sad at the idea that if we went to the same school, I wouldn’t have bothered associating with someone like her.

  I’m escorted again by the two guards – who sleep in the servant quarters in the bowels of the hotel. Narl and his quiet companion, Ikkard, gives me a wave.

  “I’m looking forward to the second trial. But if it finishes too soon, we can probably let you look at some of the stalls.”

  I beam at him. “That would be fantastic!” That extra stab of friendliness helps brighten the day. Even Ikkard is making more of an effort to be nice, though his smiles appear more like grimaces. They’ve both been useful deterrents against Tusken as well, but I know I can’t rely on them or Reon to keep the prince away from me forever.

  It takes us ten minutes of walking to reach my section of the tournament, whilst the other females peel off from the group with their own escorts. Narl informs me that they hold the tournament every year, and it’s been nearly three decades since they’ve had women as final prizes, along with cash rewards. Everyone’s excited about the humongs and all of them want to catch a glimpse of this amazing new alien race, so the tournament is stuffed with onlookers.

  “Your hair, though. That’s why they put you in the Five Trials prize winnings. No one’s ever seen anyone with natural red hair like that.” Narl touches a strand of my hair. “Such tiny tentacles…”

  “It’s not tentacles,” I say, beaming, even as Ikkard bends to touch some strands as well. My guards dump me in the small tower, and I survey the crowd and the charged energy there, before letting my eyes rest on the contestants again. Tusken’s wearing a smug, insufferable expression, and when we lock eyes, he blows a kiss and a wink my way. I snatch my gaze away and find Reon, who isn’t looking up, but examining the lumps in the middle of the grass, eyes narrowed.

  The lumps aren’t in rows this time, so I wonder what sort of challenge awaits.

  Time for me to watch and struggle to focus, I suppose. The activity around is exciting. The colorful banners, the excited Yaru and their partners, the grandstands and roped off arenas, and festival signs strung up everywhere. Like a human carnival, I suppose, except it’s apparently a world class event.

  The second trial reveals shields and swords, and bows and arrows with targets lined up.

  “The second AND third trials will take place today as a bonus!” The announcer appears delighted at the dumbfounded expressions on the contestant’s faces.

  I can’t help but feel there’s something slightly… unprofessional about the trials. Like we’re not getting gleaming tracks as we did at the Olympics, but we’re getting cobbled together events of mini golf, jousting, sword bouts and archery competitions. Maybe that haphazard feel is the charm about it. A tournament is a place for rich and poor.

  I’m a lot less happy at seeing it’s a physical bout today. Clashing with sword a
nd shield, testing accuracy with bows and arrows.

  The contestants gather their weapons and start off with the archery first. One by one, they notch back their bows, draw the string level with their chins, stretched by two strong fingers, and release into the target. Tusken, I notice, gets a bullseye straight away on the circular target, hitting the black spot in the center. The crowd cheers him on. There are two more bullseyes, and none of them are from Reon. Reon lands his first shot on the first concentric circle from the center. Not bad, but automatically places him in fourth place again, unless he ups his game, and the others drop theirs.

  I close my eyes, not wanting to watch. Then, chastising myself, I focus. All the Yaru stand there in the dirt, carefully redrawing their bows, as the crowd behind the rope barriers shout advice or boo. None of them seem to like the blue skinned Yaru much, as he gets boos, even when he lands a bullseye on the second round. Reon manages the bullseye too – as does Tusken. My heart sinks further. Tusken certainly appears as if he’s trying for an immaculate record. He even gives me a cheeky smirk as if fully aware of what I must be thinking. Reon is too busy concentrating on his target.

  Third round. Tusken hits the third shot, of course propelling him to first place, and the crowd goes berserk. They stamp their feet and howl for the prince, who bathes in the adoration with a grin, stretching out his arms. My heart gives a little pang as I watch Reon land his second bullseye. Great, except he’s not in first place. Actually… from what I can see, he might be second or third.

  The scoreboard changes. Reon taught me how to read the numbers 1-20. He’ll teach me later – but thankfully, I see the picture of each Yaru next to the numbers, so I don’t have to guess on whose name is who.

  Reon’s now in third place with fifteen points, behind the blue skinned Yaru with seventeen. Tusken is top with twenty. I keep myself demure and still. I don’t want to be seen obviously rooting for anyone. I certainly don’t want Tusken to get the wrong idea, either, because I seriously hope that fuck’s going to lose. Well, if wishes were fishes…