They all take a short break now, drinking water, eating if they want to, though most don’t opt for it. I suppose vomiting your food out from being hit by a wooden sword is a thing. Narl calls to me and asks if I want anything to eat and drink.
“Yes, as long as it’s not too greasy.”
“Got it.” Ikkard’s left guarding me, but no one would even attempt to steal me here anyway, not with a huge crowd nearby. I glance over at the only other event I can see, where it seems to be another fighting about. This time everyone seems to be able to wield whatever weapon they want, and are clashing in the center. It’s mildly entertaining – since I notice it’s not just dependant on the weapon the aliens use, but on how they conduct themselves during the bout. Some competitors lurk on the sides, trying to avoid conflict for as long as possible. Others recklessly smash through the opposition, and these get the loudest cheers.
I’m handed a circular piece of dark brown substance, wedged between square yellow bread pieces. It doesn’t smell like a burger, and the substance doesn’t leak when I bite into it. It’s kind of sweet, though I can’t describe it as anything I’ve known on earth. Except… I guess if you had the mango version of grounded nut, perhaps some caramelized onion as well, maybe a dash of spices… whatever, it’s nice. I finish it, drink from a bottle of water, and see the contestants getting ready for the third trial.
I still don’t get the hype about the Five Trials, since there’s nothing exceptional about them. Maybe it’s just the random element that scares the Yaru, rather than the fact that the trials are challenging.
Now armed with swords and shields, I watch, leaning forward in my wooden seat, adjusting for the cramp now affecting my left buttock with a grunt of exertion.
I hate sitting around. I’m a damsel here in a tower, being fought for by the Yaru below. Hell, I wouldn’t mind being in some competitions myself. But it doesn’t exactly look like the Yaru do dancing or cheerleading bouts, or American Football.
It looks like it’ll be a similar bout to the arena behind us, and I now realize that if this is the case, if there are any clear winners from the first two rounds, it could all fuck up here when the combat starts, since people can choose to take down the strongest competitors first.
Sure enough, when the announcer waves them on, along with the screams of the multicolored alien crowd – I see the ten combatants size each other up. Then, five of the crowd turns on Tusken.
To my astonishment, I see Reon pair up with Tusken and the blue alien. There wasn’t any obvious communication between them, but at some unknown signal, perhaps because they knew they’d be targeted – they join up. The remaining fighters prowl the edges, seeking opportunities to snipe. I’m aware in the bout that if a fighter receives five body blows, they’re out.
I watch Reon in the mess and notice he holds himself well. Tusken says something to him and the blue Yaru, and they nod. It’s all so fast to track. It’s abundantly clear Reon, and Tusken know how to fight. Maybe something to do with their upbringing, but they wield their swords in a stylized, practiced way. The blue alien can fight too, but I sense he’s more used to physical contact, not with holding a sword and shield and using them as extensions of his body.
Within moments, much to the disappointment of the onlookers, the three boxed in fighters who form a triangle can defeat the ones who attack them, before rapidly springing apart. Expecting betrayal.
Tusken salutes them and jabs towards one of the loiterer.
Each goes for a loiterer. I know they’ve sustained body hits. Tusken is out with two more hits; the green alien is out in three. Reon’s out in two. The loiterers are fresh, having not yet engaged in battle.
This fight actually gets my blood pumping faster. I’m hanging on the edge of my seat, breathing fast. My nails bite into the board. Reon’s fighting skills surprise me. He lunges and parries with grace, pivots his body in a way that could make him a good dancer. Highly unexpected.
The blue alien defeats his opponent first. Tusken defeats his second, but now has one blow left until elimination. Reon suffers no blows when he takes down his opponent, dodging with superb skill. It was only harder for him when surrounded and outnumbered, I figure. Alone, Reon honestly seems like he might be the best. Tusken uses brute force. The blue alien, with two blows left, prefers punching.
Now the crowd falls silent, charged up from the potential fight. The anticipation of what will happen is intense. Will one temporarily ally with the other? Will they just recklessly charge in or wait?
It’s Tusken who starts the fight. He charges straight at the blue alien. Reon tentatively moves in and gets boos when he waits.
I don’t care. My fingers are in my mouth. He could win this.
One hit. The blue alien staggers from the blow. He raises his shield, thrusts. Tusken deflects the thrust with his own circular shield and chops. The sword clashes against the wood, and sends chips flying. The sword swing changes from a swipe to a leg hack. At the same moment, the blue alien lunges at Tusken’s exposed shoulder.
They both hit one another at the same time – and are ruled out. Leaving Reon the winner, without having done anything. The crowd’s not so enthusiastic to cheer this, but I know now that puts Reon at 25 points. Tusken at 28 or 29, and the blue alien at 25 or 26.
Shit, maybe I got too excited. The crowd notes my interest and starts cheering at me instead, for some reason.
Chapter Six
Well… Reon’s certainly happy he won. I hear him go on about it as if it’s the best thing ever, and I smile and nod when we’re back in the hotel, indulging him. Honestly, I’m delighted as well, but I don’t want to appear too delighted. He seems so enthusiastic and happy. Pumped up from the possibility he might be able to win it. Especially if Tusken fucks up like that again. Reon’s far more confident as well, touching my arm often, laughing over his drinks – almost as if he sees the possibility of winning as well.
But what does it mean? Surely, he doesn’t actually like me that much? He offered to help, but that doesn’t mean he ever considered going further than that.
But what do I expect, really? If I spend enough time with someone, it’s going to change the way I feel about them. And I do like him. I do.
It just wasn’t the plan.
Tia is glum and says she thinks a big yellow alien’s going to win her. I spend some time with her, trying to morally boost her up, though she keeps drinking that datchen and loudly proclaiming all the things she used to do back on earth. We talk in English for most of it, excluding the Yaru.
She misses her home and family, same as I miss mine. She’s lucky as an only child, though. Reon leaves, saying he’s going to celebrate with some friends, so I’m sat with Tia for most of the evening, talking shop. When it gets late, I watch as Tia goes to bed, and I’m standing outside the corridor alone, smiling. Some of the paintings are beautiful, depicting the symmetry of their vast planet, and I wonder what the rest of the world looks like. I don’t see any devices like computers anywhere. The hotel appears devoid of advanced technology such as that, but I know they have it, and I’ve seen it. The hotel might be a deliberately low-tech environment, for all I know.
The Yaru seem eternally fascinated by us humans. By our ability to mimic their language, by our empathy. Maybe it’s because we are closer to them than the other species. Or maybe back on earth, we don’t give humans enough credit for being who they are. It takes another species’ eyes to let it stand out.
Of course, just like humans, the Yaru have their fair share of odd people as well. Even with mountains, coastlines, seas and great cities, there is always a dark pulsing heart at the center of society. Royalty and aristocracy suggest class conflict. The mention of thieves indicates an imbalance of wages, of society.
As I pace the red carpeted floor, I suddenly feel more paranoid. My room’s only around the corner from here, past all the other places where the humans are sleeping. Awaiting our fates.
I pause outside my door, slight
stabs of anxiety coursing through me. There’s no one in the corridor. Nothing to be worried about. Still, my heart pulses faster as I push through into my chambers. My gray skin suit feels tighter than usual, and I’m again reminded of how well it accentuates every curve upon my body and juts out my ass. I feel strangely discombobulated as if it’s again honing into my brain how impossibly far from earth I am. The fear is always there, scratching at my mind, waiting to scream me down and break me.
Everything is almost, but not quite the same. Like a mockery of earth. I can’t see any of my friends at school coping with this situation. I think they’d break or lose themselves in denial, and just desperately hope to one day return home.
Homesickness runs rampant inside me. My bottom lip trembles. I go to sit down on the hexagonal table and cradle my head in my hands. Just as I’m giving into the sadness within, and the tears leak aggressively out of my eyes, a shape materializes from my bathroom – and I stare, outraged and scared, as Tusken approaches.
He's in my room.
Instead of that confident winner’s smile upon his green skin, twisting his features into a demonic visage, his scaly face is instead grave.
We stare at each other. When he doesn’t make any movement or any smart comment, I sigh, wipe my eyes and nose and say, “Really. You wait for me in my own room?”
Tusken takes a tentative step forward, his expression is unreadable. “What is it you’re doing, humong?”
I glare. “Crying.”
He’s close enough to see my puffy cheeks, my sniffling nose, and tear tracks. “You aliens are strange.”
The comment is so out of the blue that I simply gape. “What?”
“This is crying? This water on your face?”
“Don’t you cry?” I say, momentarily forgetting there’s a potentially hostile alien in my chambers. Also, if they have the word cry in their language, then obviously they do some form of it.
“Yes. But we don’t leak water from our eyes.”
“Well, we do. When we’re sad. Now, why the fuck are you here?” I deliberately use an English curse word, and although Tusken doesn’t understand the word explicitly, he gets the context of it within the sentence.
Tusken blinks his red eyes in a languid manner. “Well, I was considering trying to get you to bed and sex you,” he says, so casually that I scowl, “but I don’t like seeing this.” He indicates his eyes, meaning the crying.
Really? He doesn’t like seeing that? Well, what did he think would happen if he tried to take me against my will?
“You mean, more of the screaming and sobbing you would have gotten if you tried to force me?”
He shrugs and looks away for a moment. “Why are you sad?”
I’m astounded he even dares to ask such a thing. It should be obvious why I’m sad. But then again, maybe what’s obvious to me isn’t obvious to him.
“Because I’m a long way from home, far from my family, who probably think I’m dead. I’m stuck on an alien planet, and I’m going to end up as some alien’s sex slave instead of living out a normal life back at home. And I must be somehow alright with all this, or I’ll go insane.” I take a deep, shuddering breath. Tusken doesn’t appear sorry to hear this, but is curious, like a scientist studying a talking lab rat.
“Does it distress you because you are social animals? Being away from your kind?”
I exhale frustration. “I suppose so.”
He reflects on this. “Maybe it is worth putting you humongs in pairs, then.” He folds his hands in his lap, still contemplating. “We don’t think about the lives of the aliens we bring here. What they had before. Many of them break or become like dolls, even if we try to improve our treatment of them. We see it as a necessary evil for the continuation of our race. You humongs, though – you’re the most genetically compatible race we’ve encountered. You are resilient. Spirited. No wonder everyone wants you.” He breathes sharply, eyes trailing over my red hair for a moment.
“Uh… thanks?”
The prince inclines his head as if accepting the thanks. Not detecting my hesitation or insincerity.
A sudden pounding on my door makes me start, and the prince instantly changes from grave to evil. “Time to mess with the competition,” he says and strides to open the door. Reon stands outside. His light brown face contorts in rage when he sees Tusken in my chambers and my puffy face.
“You!” Reon appears ready to murder the prince. Tusken gives a high, cruel laugh, before pushing past him.
“I must say, she’s as fiery as her tentacle color suggests. Should be faster if you want to sex her before I win…”
He saunters off, leaving Reon livid.
“He’s fucking with you,” I say. Reon dashes over, examining me, seeing if I’m injured or whatever, which I find sweet. “Seriously. I’m alright.”
“How did he get in your room?”
“I have no idea. Spare key card or something?” I shake my head, exhausted. Obviously, I’ll need to inform reception as soon as possible. “Why were you here anyway?”
“The receptionist reported seeing Tusken head towards your quarters, just when I was getting ready for bed. He said it happened not so long ago. I went to investigate.”
I tell Reon then what happened, and he listens in attentive silence, though there’s a small vein ticking in his temple. It’s so human like that it’s easy to imagine that there’s a living, breathing, sentient being in the Yaru. That they’re not monsters – just humanoids from a different planet, who have developed to the point of being able to travel the stars.
“We’ll need to have words with the receptionist, then,” Reon says. “We can’t have you being at risk. Just because the prince was oddly merciful this night, it doesn’t mean he’ll be like that if he gets in again.”
I agree. Tusken is too unpredictable. Then, nervous, I say, “Do you think you can win this, Reon? Do you think I can be with you?”
His gray eyes stare into mine, soft, tender. His thin lips curl in doubt. “I really don’t know. But I’ll do what I can. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say, reassured. Reon rests his long, slender hand on top of mine in a comforting gesture. His skin is cool and smooth, and I curl up my hand into a fist, liking how his skin glides over mine. “Thanks, Reon. It’s good to know I have a friend.”
“I’m sure.” The linguist smiles at me. I’m struck by a sudden impulse to lean in and kiss him, but resist the urge. This isn’t the reason why I want Reon to win. It’s just because I want something familiar and kind, which makes perfect sense when you’re imprisoned upon an alien planet.
Better the Devil you know than the one you don’t. Reon bids me goodnight, after another lingering glance from his beautiful gray eyes, and he exits quietly. I curl into bed shortly after undressing and brushing my teeth.
My dreams are pleasant. I imagine myself on a spaceship, orbiting past the moon. I can see earth in the near distance with its great continents, and I’m jabbing my finger against the glass, pointing at North America specifically, and telling Reon in an excitable voice that this is where my family lives, and this is where humans have lived and created so many different societies for themselves from a time where they once scrabbled about in the mud.
Reon nods by my side, wearing the same smile I feel. It is not a smile carved by a knife, like Tusken’s, but a soft one, as if gently shaped into being. Just when I turn to say that I can’t wait until he meets my family, Reon pulls me in close, face hard and determined, and places his lips upon mine.
Reon morphs into my former two boyfriends then, during the dream. I have no idea how a Yaru might feel, so my brain fills in the blanks. It disappoints me when I see the focus of my fantasy shifting between three men, and I eventually wake up to a bright morning, sunlight swiping at my face.
I’m mildly turned on, but I don’t do anything about it as I sit up, yawn, and wash and dress into yet another gray suit.
I figure to go for a super early breakfast and try out
the drink Tia’s been swearing is like our earth coffee, and I step outside into the corridor.
Reon is slumped against the wall beside my door, legs sprawled upon the red carpet. He’s wearing the same black skinsuit I saw him depart in.
Smiling, I crouch in front of him, still feeling the lingering after-effects of my dream. The idiot’s waited outside all night. Guarding me to make sure no one comes in while I sleep. Now he’s tuckered out. My heart does a little leap of happiness upon letting the information sink into my brain. Reon actively tried to protect me. Sure, someone could have slunk past once he fell asleep from exhaustion, but right now, the thoughtfulness touches me.
Bless his little alien soul.
I gently stroke his face, and I admire the softness there, before he wakes up, the film over his eyes dissipating and focusing on me. I grin.
“Good morning, sunshine. How surprising to see you here,” I say, vastly amused when he blushes, the rose color entering his cheeks.
“I guess there’s no easy way to explain this,” he says, now appearing rueful.
I just stare at him there, flooded by happiness. I want to hug him. I want to…
Ah, fuck it. I let myself fall forward, knees wedging between his thighs, brace my palms against the wall and plant my lips upon his. Just fuck it.
His breath catches in his throat. He shudders against me in shock, before indulging in the kiss. Moving his lips against mine. Sparking up the passion between us. I’m burning now. My heart rate's tripled at this point because I’m shocked at the way he kisses; how receptive he is to it. Like he’s getting turned on almost as much as I am.
I have a fort of reasons to not do this, and it just crumbles away. I breathe in his scent, spicy with a hint of soil and arousal. I marvel at how soft his lips are, how smooth he is when my nose brushes over his.
The Lost Seal: A Seal Romance Page 33
