The Star Princess by Susan Grant Read Free Book Online

hollowly in the cavernous room." 'Beat the crown prince to the altar,' he told me. And in doing so, preserve Vedla pride."
    Ché paused to listen. He was certain he'd heard a muffled laugh. "You find it funny, dear brother?"
    "It was a chuckle of commiseration. Only the other day you were waxing poetic about the rewards of bachelorhood— and before you had even finished your second ale."
    Klark's voice had come from a different direction than Ché expected. But even as that thought registered, he sensed that Klark had moved again.
    Slowing his breaths, Ché stared wide-eyed into a wall of complete blackness. "You make it easy when I can hear you, Klark."
    But not with his ears. It was completely dark, but he did not need his eyes. The neurons in his body hummed, pointing to his prey. Sharpened from years of training in Bajha, Che's senses guided him. Following their ancient, mysterious direction, he inched closer.
    The goal of the game was to find his opponent without the aid of the usual five senses. To target Klark, Ché relied on the blood coursing through his veins, his tingling pores, and the prickle of tiny hairs on his body, while he clutched his blunt sens-sword in his fists.
    Of course, it made it all very difficult when playing Bajha to try to have a conversation at the same time. On an unspoken signal, he and his brother both went silent, giving in to the game.
    Klark attacked, and Ché evaded him expertly. Then Ché whirled and swung in a return strike. But Klark was ready for him. His sens-sword whipped so close to Che's torso that Ché could feel the rounded blade disturb the air as it whooshed past. But Klark never knew when to stop, it seemed. It was his weakness, and Ché knew it. When Klark came at him again, silently howling a battle cry that Ché could feel in the marrow of his bones, Ché swung his weapon in a brutal arc from above his head and down, then sharply to the left.
    The impact of Klark's parry shocked him, took his breath. Ché had not expected to find Klark's sword there. An answering grunt of surprise came from Klark as their swords collided. Shocked or no, they pushed forward at the same time, blades slithering down to lock hilts. A fountain of brilliant violet light erupted at the point of contact, and then both sens-swords vibrated, signaling a hit.
    As the purple light faded, Ché saw his own astonishment clearly reflected in his brother's eyes.
    "Lights," Ché gasped. The illumination came up, revealing him practically nose to nose with Klark. "Give?" his younger brother inquired, breathless.
    "To hell I'll give!" Ché gasped. "It's a draw."
    Hoe, who had been watching the match through an infrared enhancer, called down from the stands, "I have never seen a draw in Bajha, myself. But this was a draw if there ever was one." He glanced apologetically at Ché. "My lord."
    Klark lowered his senssword and offered Ché his hand. "Good match," he said. "And interesting."
    "To say the least." Gripping each other's wrists, the brothers inclined their heads, formally ending the match.
    After stripping off their Bajha suits and changing into robes, the two refreshed themselves with a cold ionic beverage back in Klark's main chamber. Lounging amongst the floor cushions, Ché brought his sibling up to date with the council's secret plans. Hoe listened quietly in the background, as he had in nearly every significant conversation Ché had made in his life that concerned political matters or important affairs of the family. Ché trusted him implicitly. It was his brother that he still doubted from time to time.
    "Great Mother. I must say I'm impressed by the councilman's cleverness," Klark murmured with approval.
    Che's mouth twisted. "I thought you would be."
    "I knew nothing of it, by the way," Klark admitted without anyone having to ask.
    "Nothing at all? Preliminary plans? Hints?"
    "Tedious as it is, I am enduring my isolation as sentenced. I don't ask, and no one tells." A comer of Klark's wide