by Tina Gayle
* * * *
The smile on his face widened. Marohka would defiantly add spice to his life. Of course, knowing his father, he’d probably chosen her because of her unreceptive attitude.
Typical.
His father, a council elder, liked to place obstacles in Stihl’s way or nag him with suggestions on how to improve his life. Even if Marohka resisted him, with a little charm she’d fall into his pocket. Then he’d be one step closer to getting what he wanted.
With her exit, he seized the opportunity to escape and stepped away from the stairs to head for the door. With his father submitting his selection, Stihl was free to leave.
Once Stihl stepped outside the doors, he glanced at the bloodred ball of fire highlighting the horizon. Dark streaks shot up around it like flames. Corolla, the first sun of the planet Vectar, produced a spectacular display when it fell from the sky. Then only the illumination from the second sun, Damion, lit the planet. One of Vectar’s two suns offered light thirty zitons a day.
The buildings surrounding the courtyard of copper and glass reflected the red-gold sunset of Corolla. All light met back at the focal point of the square, the statue of the mother of Lustralia. The beauty of the lady lay at the heart of all Royal traditions.
Stihl paused, and a flash of color caught his eye. At six-eight with shocking neon blue hair, Cyd couldn’t be missed. Waving, Stihl walked forward.
Many times, Stihl had relied on his best friend and business partner Cyd to match his blows in a fight or spot him some money. He’d always come through. The same couldn’t be said for some of the other members of Stihl’s family.
“Hey, Cyd. Let’s get out of here. I’m done.” Stihl slapped his friend on the back. “Luckily, I only had to attend this ball once.”
“Bad?”
“You might say it’s sort of like a tavern fight. The crowd stands around the edge until they build up their nerve or gain an advantage. Then they grab someone and join in on the fun.” Stihl wrapped his hands around his neck and rocked his head.
“What about Marohka?”
Stihl smiled. He’d observed her movements all evening. She’d shied away from most of the men and hardly talked to the girls. But even with her ugly dress, she radiated an energy which drew his attention. “Interesting, she has a wild current running through her as wide as a river. Most of the men in the room avoided her, unable to see her beauty.”
Cyd frowned.
Stihl grinned at his friend’s reaction. “Now where to?”
Cyd walked toward the Individual Public Transportation stop. “I located the trainer listed on Marohka’s data sheet. He agreed to meet you at the workout center soon.”
“How soon?” Stihl undid the top button of his shirt. “I want to change. These clothes are killing me.”
“In about a ziton,” Cyd answered.
“Good, let’s catch the next car.”
They stepped onto the boarding platform. A red IPT car pulled to a stop. The automated doors opened to reveal the padded red interior of a four-person car. Cyd sat down on the bench-seat facing forward, while Stihl settled on the opposite side.
Cyd cleared his throat. He slid his personal note-card through the car’s meter.
“Um,” his friend, working up the courage to voice his concerns, continued, “I know you’re required to claim this girl, but . . .”
Stihl scanned his note-card and entered their depot stop number. He shook his head, guessing Cyd’s problem. “Don’t worry. Marohka won’t hurt me.”
“Right, both your brothers said the same thing before their challenge. If I remember correctly, Tankton came out with a broken arm, and Joha received a black eye.” Cyd knotted his hands into fists. “Royal women are scary—if not downright dangerous.”
“Yes, that’s why they changed the rules. Now only men with Royal blood are allowed to marry Royal women.” Stihl shifted back onto his seat. The IPT car sped along the high beams, which ran over the plazas and walkways below. “Seeing you’re from Periva, you’re out of the mix.”
“Yes, but you, Lukes, let hundreds of Perivan men die before the council figured it out. Perivan men can’t telepathically link with their wives. It’s part of what caused the riff between the two countries.” Unease rang in Cyd’s voice. “Those women killed their husbands because they couldn’t ease their wives’ fears and provide them the fulfillment that they craved.”
“Yeah, but,” Stihl enjoyed a burst of humor before continuing, “Can you think of a better way to go?”
Cyd’s gaze shifted from the large clear dome of the IPT car to stare at Stihl. “You idiot, she could kill you.”
With a laugh, Stihl lifted his hands into a fighter’s stance. “Not a chance. Royal blood runs through my veins. I’m safe.”
“That’s no guarantee. Tankton’s been injured by his wife a number of times.” Cyd added, “She almost killed him once.”
“Yes, but Tankton’s a wimp.”
“Maybe so.” Cyd offered Stihl a weak smile. “But tomorrow’s fight is simply the first of many. From what we’ve learned about Marohka, she won’t give in easily.”
“Look, Mother, don’t worry. Dad says it’s normal for royal women to fear commitment. The strong warrior gene in their blood makes them untrusting of men. That’s why the council forces them to attend the royal ball to encourage them to find a mate.”
Cyd shrugged. “If you say so. What time is your fight?”
“Don’t know. Dad is trying to arrange for our match to be one of the first on the docket. He’s aware of our meeting tomorrow night, and he won’t let me miss my duel with Marohka. He’ll call.”
Cyd shifted in his seat. “I guess we don’t have a choice. We’d better head to the gym so you can figure out how to beat Marohka in the first challenge. Then, at least, you’ll be one step closer to your inheritance.”
“Relax.” Stihl anticipated no problems. “I’ll have this thing wrapped up in no time, and we’ll be on our way to Central City.” He snapped his fingers. “Piece of cake.”
* * * *
Marohka stood beside her bed packing while she decided what to do. With the dawn of a new day, she longed to be on her way. The morning transporter to Central City departed in a couple of zitons. With a little luck, she’d be at the Trisar camp by early afternoon.
Of course, if it hadn’t been for the silly dance last night, she would’ve already been there. But no, she followed the rules and did her civil duty. Now, nothing stood in her way.
The reports she’d gotten from Almon last night were useless. They’d provided no solution. The core samples in Central City would help her discover the truth. She’d examine the dirt collected and see first hand the minerals listed in the soil. Then she’d head to the mine and discover the real answers.
The soft, even breathing of her roommate, Crystal, broke the silence in the room, but Marohka continued to pack her bag. An iridescent glow from her light-beam lit the way from her bed to her clothing unit. Back and forth, she paced, while her mind battled with endless questions. The first reports from the mine predicted a profitable operation. Yet, it wasn’t. Why?
On her visit a few months ago, everything appeared to be on track. What had changed since then? With the alarming rate of loses accumulating and her father covering all the excavation cost for the operation, she should’ve left days ago.
“If he’d only not listened to my advice,” Marohka muttered under her breath. “But no I had to go and open my mouth.”
All the signs she read indicated the site would produce the largest deposit of qualtrilium in the history of Lustralia. A good reason to lock in with a share the profit contract, instead of the cost plus deal which her father normally signed.
What do you know? her self-doubt argued.
Marohka remembered the impression she’d received when she’d visited the mine. Qualtrilium surrounded her. There had to be some other problem.
A knock sounded on the door. The noise jerked Marohka out of
her funk. Crystal must have a challenge from someone to meet her in the mating ring. After last night, every man in the country probably wanted her. She’d flirted with any man who ventured in her path. Luckily, she longed for a mate.
Poor misguided girl.
Marohka stepped to the door, dressed in her thin micro fiber suit.
“Yes?”
“Marohka Taunton?” asked the pastel-pink haired matron on the other side.
“Yes?”
With no smile or greeting, the woman stuck out her knotted hand and shoved a large violet package toward Marohka. “Inside is the bio sheet on your prospective mate. Your match will be at three ziton. Your escort will be here fifteen itons earlier to guide you to the arena. Please be ready.”
Her errand done, the ugly gnome of a woman turned on her heels and marched back down the hall.
“So much for leaving town,” Marohka said to the empty hallway. She fought the urge to slam the door shut and instead relished the tiny click when the latch reconnected. A raging fire burned in the pit of her stomach.
How could the ugly hands of fate delay her again? She walked to the small kitchen in a corner of the room and threw the offensive packet on the counter. It skidded across the surface, knocked over several small bottles of spices, and landed at the foot of her dead rosewood plant. She didn’t need this type of aggravation.
Foolishly, she’d thought she’d never be summoned to a challenge. Now, someone wanted her as his mate. But who? She hadn’t talked to anyone last night.
Hoping some caffleck might help clear her head, Marohka placed a mug under the dispenser. Dark drops sparkled in her cup. She milked the hose for the right amount, and then pressed each button to select the amount of milk, water, flavoring, and supplements to add. After sliding her cup under each spout, she worked to recall who she’d met the prior evening. No one glanced at her twice. Who could it be?
“Can you get out of the way? I want some caffleck too.”
Startled by a voice from behind her, Marohka turned to see Crystal. “Wow, great hair. The frozen curl solution is just what your hair needed.” Marohka shifted out of the way.
Crystal fingered her curlers. “Who was at the door?”
Marohka glared at the dreaded packet. “I received a challenge.”
“That’s amazing.” Crystal poured herself a cup of caffleck and chuckled. “I guess your rude, endearing charm and ugly dress worked their magic on some unsuspecting victim.”
Not amused by the comment, Marohka ripped open the edge of the envelope to burn off some of her frustration. “Exactly. The man has to be a loser.”
She scanned through the data, but didn’t recognize his name. From his address, she determined he wasn’t a resident of Royal City, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t met. She traveled to Central City regularly.
“What’s his name?” Crystal asked on her way to the lily. “I might have met him last night.”
“Stihl Fermesium.”
“Elder man Fermesium’s son?” Crystal said in amazement. She stood at the lily door poking at the bubbles in her hair.
“I don’t know, maybe.”
“If it is, you’ve scored big time. They’re a wealthy family,” Crystal purred. The green gel from her hair spilled around her fingers.
“Great, you take him.” Marohka sipped her drink.
“Oh, get off it. You want a mate just like the rest of us. Don’t tell me you don’t,” Crystal argued. “You’ve dreamed about having a family of your own, haven’t you?”
Working the lotion into her hair, Crystal continued. “I know the Elders keep harping about us needing more qualtrilium, and that we require a new power source. But, you don’t have to be the one to find it.”
Her friend spoke the truth. The fate of Lustralia didn’t rest in her hands alone. But Morohka’s discovery rate ranked the best in the country, not counting how it helped her father’s business.
“Yes, but, even if I met a man—and started a family, it’s no guarantee I’d be happy. I enjoy my job, and I’ve worked hard to gain a good reputation. I’m not willing to throw it all away,” she stated firmly. “Not now, not on a stranger.”
“Who says you have to?” With long spiral curls styled up and around her face, Crystal debated the point. “The girls here think of you as a hero because of the work you do, but why can’t you have both? Some women do.” She tugged on a curl. “Granted, we don’t know any, but there are some.”
“Yeah, well.” Marohka buried that fantasy a long time ago. After the first few mating balls when no man selected her, she decided to seek a career instead. For years now, she’d done whatever it took to discourage any potential mate.
Young and witty, Crystal didn’t understand the pain of rejection. She’d only been through the process once before. Marohka understood the agony and longed to change the future for all royal girls by giving them an option other than having a husband and family. She refused to have her dreams derailed by some man who suddenly decided he needed a mate.
“To be honest, I don’t want to take a chance. With my luck, I’ll get stuck with some caveman who lives in the outback and raises turkins. No thank you. I’ll stay single.”
“I don’t know, Marohka. It might be the perfect life for you. Think of all the time you could spend playing with your precious rocks.”
In a way, living in a cave might be appealing, if the walls didn’t close in on her.
Chapter Two
Palms sweaty—heart steady—battle ready—Marohka reviewed her strategy for the fight. A crowd sat watching her from the observation deck. One of the elders read the rules over the loud speaker. “The person who pins his or her opponent for ten itons . . .”
Her gaze darted to the man standing in the middle of the mating arena. Orange padded walls framed Stihl’s body. Sizewise, he stood over four leg-lengths’ tall, giving him a half of leg advantage. Weightwise, he out matched her by at least a hundred pounds. Yet, neither his size nor his weight worried her. She’d beaten bigger men before at the gym where she worked out.
Bigger, but soft, she amended.
Under his skintight workout suit, she recognized a strong athletic man who worked out regularly. Her stomach churned at his muscle mass. The odds of her winning against a seasoned opponent ground to zero.
A blinding force of reality struck her—she could lose.
Unwilling to accept the possibility, she struggled with a way to win. She had two options, trick him with a fast maneuver or draw blood. Per the rules, any blood spilled disqualified him. Then, if she were lucky, the match over, and she’d be free forever.
She smiled at the reassuring thought. A strangely sweet odor hit her senses. With a quick glance at her target, she caught sight of his mischievous grin. A dimple flashed from the corner of his mouth.
Recognition dawned. Her opponent, none other than the guy by the staircase last night, winked at her. A fleeting notion sped through her head. Does she really want to win?
“Marohka Taunton meet your future mate, Stihl Fermesium,” the formal voice rang from the speakers.
With a nod of greeting, Marohka placed herself under tight control. Every muscle on alert, she waited for the contest to begin. She clenched her teeth to hide the spark of fear vibrating through her nervous system.
“Now after being introduced and read the rules, let’s see a fair fight.”
“Looks like you were wrong. It’s not over.” Stihl grinned.
She shifted into her fighting stance. Knees bent, one foot a step behind the other. She pictured ways to defeat him. “It soon will be,” she grumbled.
To catch him off guard, Marohka quickly kicked her back leg forward. Her foot landed in his solar plexus. A grunt sounded through the arena. Stihl didn’t waiver. The rock wall of his stomach threw her off balance. She wobbled on one leg. Her arms waved through the air. An iron clamp gripped her ankle. Her front leg halted. For an iton, she regained her balance. Then with a quick jerk of his wrist, her
world tilted. Colors flashed past her vision. The ceiling suddenly sped into view. Like a cloud, she hung suspended in air. An iton later, the hard surface of the mat hit her back.
On impact, she twisted and attempted to roll over. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and wrestled her back to the mat. Anger sped through her, and she glared at his face. Small flecks of amber swam in the brown pools of his eyes. She registered the added force of his gaze. Then she knotted her hands into fists to strike an attack. With a quick shift of his weight, he pinned her hands between them.
“It’s a good bet you won’t win,” he whispered with confidence.
The count rang through the speaker.
