Bride to the Brutal Beast

Chapter 1

Lorka

“Of all the things…” Lorka muttered beneath his breath.

The clouds formed a jagged line in the sky, refracting a dying sun’s last rays into brilliant hues of orange and pink. Gentle light cascaded over the tufted spires of Starcastle Keep, bringing a peaceful and serene ambiance to the kingdom’s capital.

Lorka normally would have paused and looked at the setting sun for a moment, perhaps even swept his stoic gaze over the palace as well. In this instance, however, he was being pursued and dared not slow down for a moment.

His predator was most relentless, and followed him throughout the palace.

His mother always was stubborn.

Lorka stopped on a terrace overlooking the shadow-splashed courtyard and turned to face his mother at last.

“Must you continue to hector me about this journey?”

His mother’s scaled face resolved into a patient, but annoyed expression.

“I’m not hectoring you, Lorka. I’m only trying to make sure you fully understand the implications of the decision you have chosen to make.”

He fought a wave of anger, partly because it was his mother — and partly because his niece, Dava, was tagging along in their wake. “You do not have to approve of my decision. Likewise, you do not have to make your judgments known.”

His mother’s lips twisted into a wry half smile, although her eyes remained angry. Her voluminous robes swept across the stones beneath their feet with a whisper-like sound as she gestured at a tapestry hanging on the wall.

It was an old tapestry, with a fortune in diamonds and jewels sewn into its fabric. It depicted his ancestor, Grikor, facing off against Baragon mercenaries. Grikor died in that encounter, but in doing so he saved his entire kingdom.

“Do you see how Grikor attended to his duties, even though the cost was dear? He paid the ultimate price.”

He had seen the tapestry many times before, and knew its story well. When he was younger he had longed to be a great hero like Grikor.

Only now that he was older, he knew that heroes and villains were just a matter of perspective. He no longer felt inspired by the tapestry. His mother didn’t know that, clearly.

“I’m hardly shirking my duties, Mother. I’m  just taking a brief jaunt and will be back long before the negotiations begin.”

“A thousand things could happen on your way to Novaria,” she said stiffly. “It is irresponsible for you to leave the planet now.”

Anger surged through Lorka’s veins. He raised a nearby vase, about to smash it against the wall, when he saw Dava watching him.

With a great deal of effort, he set the vase back down and closed his lips tightly.

“Excuse me,” Lorka said, bowing stiffly to both of them before turning around and stuffing his saurian head out of the nearest window. He gave birth to his rage, letting it flow out of him in the form of dragon fire. The gout of flame raged up a full twenty feet in the air. His fire was the hottest it could be, a bright blue.

He turned back around and cleared his throat, feeling at least somewhat less angry for venting. Literally.

“I will see the both of you upon my return,” he said with stiff formality.

“Uncle Lorka, don’t go.”

Dava dashed over to him and hugged his leg. She was so young, her wings hadn’t even fully formed  yet. They still fluttered with excitement as she grabbed onto him.

“I must go, Dava,” he said gently, kneeling down to her eye level. “But I will return soon, I promise.”

It took all of his strength to turn and walk away from Dava even as she began to sniffle and cry. He made it to the staircase and soon left her weeping behind him. He also left his mother’s judgmental attitude on the upper floor.

He walked down a staircase made of blue, semi translucent stone harvested from the seabed. From time to time there would be starfish or other sea life from long ago embedded within it. The sight normally brought him some joy, but today his mind remained mired in other distractions.

He turned a corner and ascended a short stairway that led to a wide open section of the palace. Massive pillars, larger around than ten Dragonions holding hands in a circle, supported the three open walls.

Various vehicles occupied the hangar bay, from atmospheric-bound speeders, to tracked military tanks, to sleek and silvery starships. The quartermaster bowed his head upon Lorka’s entrance.

“Your ship is ready for you, my lord.”

“Thank you, Rezus. As always you are an excellent steward.”

Rezus bowed his black scaled head as Lorka passed. He made his way to a silver ship vaguely shaped like a bird of prey. The wings helped to keep it stable while flying in layers of atmosphere, but the ship was built for the rigors of space.

The gangplank extended from the rear at his approach. A phalanx of guards stood at attention as he entered the ship. His captain, a blue-scaled Dragonion of middling years, bowed his head as well.

“Are we ready to depart, Captain Damara?” Lorka asked.

“No,” Damara said with a grin. “I’ve just been wasting my time all afternoon instead of getting the ship ready.”

Lorka chuckled. His mother thought Damara was far too familiar with the royal family for a mere military captain. Lorka thought differently. He liked having someone around who wasn’t overly impressed with his station. It made him feel as if he could rely upon Damara more.

 “We’re ready to depart for Novaria at your convenience, my lord,” Damara said after Lorka stopped laughing. “So…are the rumors true?”

“What rumors?” Lorka said, though he knew exactly what Damara meant.

“You are truly going to Novaria to meet this mail-order bride of yours?”

“Indeed,” Lorka said. “The crown of omens showed me this.”

“No offense intended, my Lord,” Damara said. “But our best scientists have examined the crown many times, and no one has ever found its composition to be anything other than simple precious metals and gemstones.”

Lorka grinned.

“You must have faith. The precursors blessed the crown themselves and saw to it that it was passed down through my family line.”

Lorka looked out from the rear of the ship, at the darkening sky. Soon stars would glitter like jewels over the sea.

“I know that I’m going to find my mate among the stars. After all, Sagazia Prozeus has already helped two of my brethren.”

“Well, you’re the king,” Damara said with a bow. “So it’s off we go, then.”

Although Lorka could have gone to his quarters during the journey, he preferred to ride on the silver ship’s bridge, especially during take off.

He settled into his seat while Damara rattled off orders. The bridge crew worked hard at their stations. The engines turned on with a sonorous hum, and the ship vectored out into the dying sunlight.

The ship climbed into the air, its nose pointing up. Thanks to inertial dampeners and artificial gravity, Lorka didn’t feel the effects at all, though it was a bit disorienting to see the palace whip by at such a crazy angle.

“Prepare to engage thrusters on my mark,” Damara said. “Navigation, make the calculations for a superluminal jump.”

The ship moved up further in the atmosphere, cutting through the air like a knife. Then Damara leaned forward in his seat, eyes focused on the viewscreen, and spoke.

“Mark.”

The thrusters erupted to life, accelerating the ship to unbelievable speeds. Soon they rocketed up into the air so high the dying sun was brilliant once more. They continued to climb until they were among the shimmering stars of space.

“Superluminal calc is made, Captain,” said the Nav officer. “We should be on Novaria in three hours.”

“Three hours?” Damara whistled. “That’s some damn fine calculating, son. Let’s hope that we don’t run into any gravity well generators or reaper raids.”

Lorka snorted. He believed Dragonions to be superior to Reapers in terms of combat ability. It was a reason their home world was allowed to remain neutral during most of the Centuries War. Nobody wanted to fuck with the Dragonions.

Still, he didn’t want any delays at all, so he was glad for the quick trip. He amused himself by watching holovids from his chair during the journey and tried not to think about his mother.

The stars turned from sprites to streaks as the superluminal drive engaged. There were tons of calculations necessary to get the ship to its correct place, not just in space but in time.

Ninety nine percent of ships attempting time travel wound up destroyed, so he was glad to have a competent navigation officer on board.

When they dropped out of the superluminal jump, the floating green and white orb of Novaria floated off their starboard bow. He stood up and examined it.

So here, he thought, I will find my mate.

As soon as we were in communications range — standard, not quantum entanglement, which had no range — he contacted the agency. He was surprised when he connected with Sagazia personally.

“It’s highly unusual for a client to make this kind of gesture.” Sagazia’s voice held no hint of recrimination, only a statement of fact. “Most make arrangements in advance, and often through an agent working on their behalf. I don’t think it’s necessarily an incorrect approach. However, I strongly think that you should contact Eden in advance, rather than springing yourself on her unexpectedly.”

Lorka laughed low in his throat. On the holo-display from the gravity well of the planet, Lorca could not place the age of Sagazia, with her silver hair and golden eyes. He wondered what species she was, but there were so many varieties out there, it may have even been one he had never heard of. Especially now that the long war was over and the galaxy was safer for travel, species of all kinds emigrated throughout the universe.

“Thank you for your counsel. I’ll attempt to contact her before springing myself upon her, as you put it.”

“I’m sure that the two of you are going to hit it off,” Sagazia said. “Still, you need to remember that I can only arrange the meetings of prospective matches, but I can’t make any guarantees about compatibility. The rest of it is up to you.”

“I assure you, I have no compunction about my abilities to seduce a human girl,” he said with a scoff. “Lorka out.”

He turned off the holo-communicator and tried the number Sagazia provided. He got no response, and there was no option to leave a video mail for her.

No matter. They would meet each other soon enough. It looked like he was going to ‘spring himself’ on her after all.

If she were truly his fated mate, it wouldn’t matter how they met.