His Highness the Duke (3 page)

empty space now. Even the meteors have floated away.‖

―This isn‘t about our childhood home. This is about a planet that needs saving. If

the Tyoe succeed in their plans, they will kill everyone over mining rights. I can‘t let the

Qurilixian people become exterminated when I can try to stop it.‖

―Send them a communication,‖ Riona muttered.

―I couldn‘t. You know very well that in my position the Federation monitors all

of my communications and, regardless, the Draig are not part of the Federation alliance.

It‘s not like I can get the local nobility to take my transmission. As much as I‘d like to be

able to just type them a letter telling them to be careful, that wasn‘t an option.‖ Aeron

frowned. ―Sorry you were so inconvenienced.‖

―Oh, that sounded sincere.‖ Sarcasm dripped from Riona‘s tone.

Aeron didn‘t answer.

―You act like I‘m heartless. I‘m here, aren‘t I? You wanted my help and I helped

you. You wanted a ride and I found you a ride. It‘s not like trips to the outer Y quadrant

are around every corner, let alone trips to an isolated planet. A planet, by the way, that

houses two warring classes of people, which necessitate landing on the right side of the

planet. That‘s a pretty tall order, sis. Would you rather I hijacked a ship? Broke a few

more laws you‘re so keen on observing?‖

Aeron opened her mouth, but didn‘t get a chance to answer.

―Listen, we go, we smile, we pretend to consider our options, we drink, we

dance or whatever it is these Draigs do for fun, and then you do what you have to and

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we leave.‖ Riona began walking aggressively toward her as she continued, ―Now, we

have a long flight so I suggest you take advantage of all the services. Go upload

mundane planetary and Qurilixen species facts into that brain of yours. Or better yet,

relax
, if you even know what that is. Have permanent polish applied to your nails. Get

your breasts enhanced and enlarged so the other militants will have a reason to

promote you to head analyst. Get that boulder removed from your tight ass. I don‘t care

what it is…‖ She ran her hand over a wall sensor. The door to the hallway slid open.

―So long as it‘s not in here. Have a good flight, sis, see you when we land.‖

Riona gave her a light push, forcing Aeron into the hall before shutting the door

in her face. Shaking with the kind of rage only her sister could produce, Aeron marched

down the metal corridor to her assigned room. Under her breath, she muttered, ―I hope

one of the barbarians takes you home with him as a wife, and I hope they are the

foulest, ugliest creatures to have ever lived!‖

* * * * *

Breeding Festival Grounds, Outside the Draig Palace, Planet of Qurilixen

Lord Bronislaw, High Duke of Draig, eyed the festival grounds before him.

Servants busily worked to make sure everything was in order before the shipment of

Galaxy Brides arrived. Bron wasn‘t necessarily looking forward to the event, being as it

was his seventh year in a row, but he was duty bound to attend—especially this year, as

it was the first year his four royal cousins, the Princes of Draig, would be searching for

their wives. For that he was grateful. The royal family was the only family on the planet

who outranked his, and the people‘s attention had predictably shifted from his marital

pursuits to the princes‘. In fact, it was almost as if the people had forgotten he was

attending. As an honorable nobleman, his repeated failures were not a kind reminder to

others hoping to find a bride someday.

Bron wished he could forget he was attending. This night weighed heavily on the

back of his mind all year round. Would this be the year the gods blessed him? Or would

this be another failed attempt? Would he go home empty-handed to the disappointed

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stares and mutterings of his subjects? Looking up at the green-tinted sky, he could

already see the telltale darkening of the normally light heavens. Night only came to the

planet of Qurilixen once a year. It is part of what made the Breeding Festival so sacred

to his people. It was the only time couples could marry.

Normally, a soft green haze of light plagued the planet‘s sunny surface.

Qurilixen had three suns—two yellow and one blue—and one moon, which made for a

particularly bright planet. To the left of the valley a colossal forest stretched into the

distance. The green leaves of the foliage were overlarge due to the excessive heat and

moisture they received. The trees towered high above the planet‘s surface, thicker than

some of the smaller homes in the nearby village.

―Here we go again,‖ his brother, Alek, said as he reined his ceffyl beside Bron‘s.

He automatically gripped the center horn of the beast to keep his balance on the wide

back as it shifted. The animal had a fanged mouth that opened with a hiss of its long

tongue. It had the eyes of a reptile, the face and hooves of a beast of burden, and the

body of a small elephant. Like all ceffyls in their stable, it was a fine steed.

This was to be Alek‘s fifth attempt and he looked forward to it with all the

excitement exhibited by Bron. The second youngest, Mirek, faced his fourth festival.

The youngest of them, Vladan, came for his first. Bron pitied Vladan for the

disappointment the night would bring. He could remember his own first ceremony as if

it had been the night before. He had stood with the bachelors and waited, his heart full

of hope and his stomach in his throat as he searched the faces of the eligible women for

the one that would be his. Only, the sacred crystal about his neck never glowed to

signify he had found his true mate, his wife. He had tried to warn his youngest brother

against such hope, as did the others. Vladan still carried that spark in his eyes as he

looked down at the valley of pyramid-shaped tents decorated by waving banners.

As Mirek and Vladan reined their mounts next to them on the hill overlooking

the festival grounds, Vladan said, ―Does it always look like this?‖

Bron frowned. Vladan had not heeded their example. Though he tried to hide his

emotions, the youngest brother still believed this night might prove lucky.

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―Yes,‖ Alek said. ―Though they still must set up a banquet tent for potential

brides and fire pits around the campsite. From this position it will look as if the entire

valley is on fire.‖ At Vladan‘s questioning look, he added, ―We camp here after the

festivities. If you do not find a bride, you do not go to the tents. Whichever tents are

empty are taken down early in the morning by servants. No one wants to see a

reminder of the failed attempts.‖

―So we will gather here tonight after the ceremony,‖ Bron stated. He really didn‘t

expect to take home a bride, and if they camped on the cliff they could make a faster

departure in the morning. He had matters to attend to at his castle home.

―Sounds good. I have mares that are about to drop,‖ Alek answered. As Top

Breeder on the planet, it was Alek‘s duty to see to the ceffyl stock. They had a gestation

period of three years but only made it to term about half the time. Overseeing the

birthing process was very important.

―We should greet our cousins and tell the king we have arrived,‖ Mirek said. He

was the first to move.

―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.‖

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Chapter Two

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

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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

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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,