Chapter 1
Larzukan
Larzukan idly drummed his long, slender blue fingers against the hard-oak banister overlooking the immaculate city before him. The third moon of his beautiful planet was just rising over the expansive horizon, bathing the city below in an alluring myriad of colors.
This was Larzukan’s favorite time of day. The people in the city below had long since found their sleep, and the daily clamor of the world below him had turned to peace and quiet.
Larzukan often found himself standing in this very spot, reveling in his incredible solitude. This was his time to reflect upon his life without the constant and insufferable staff and various other royals who plagued his day-to-day existence.
He had not been given the opportunity in life to choose his own course, as that was not the way of his people. He had been born the rightful heir to the throne, whether he wanted to be or not, and the Choosing had sealed his fate.
Larzukan’s father died young (or retired, as the Tharagan called it) in the war with the Jin-Je, leaving Larzukan’s mother, Frintuk, as Queen and young Larzukan with the throne. Frintuk was a strong and capable leader, and after only two years on the throne, she ended the civil war, giving his people the first peace they had known in over thirteen cycles.
Frintuk was a good mother, but she was hard and held high expectations. After his father’s death, Frintuk never let a day go by that she did not remind her son of the expectations and responsibilities weighing upon his shoulders.
"There are dangers unique to your life, Larzukan," she often said. "You must be able to identify enemy from friend, despite the yearnings of your heart. You must understand that all here are your enemies."
When Larzukan was seven, Frintuk had sent him to the academy to begin his training. Each day was filled with grueling hours of education followed by more grueling hours of physical training, battle simulations, and recitation of the history of his people, the Tharagan.
Larzukan's class held seven hundred students, but only half would survive the training and make it to the final Choosing where the students would be given their stations for the remainder of their lives.
Frintuk made it very clear that Larzukan would not only be one of the surviving students, but he would be the leader. His father had died without producing the additional offspring typical for their race, leaving Larzukan no choice but total success.
If he did not survive the Choosing, his mother would be executed for her failure to raise a proper heir, and a new civil war would erupt to find the next ruler. She would accept no less from her son, from the future king of her people, than perfection.
For fifteen years, Larzukan trained night and day, and each year the academy became smaller and smaller as his companions and friends were sifted through and eliminated.
During those fifteen years, Larzukan saw his mother only once a year at the Choosing. The exams given for the Choosing were the most brutal of the year, and those who did not pass were executed. Failure was not an option. If Larzukan had any expectations of special privilege for being heir to the throne, they were quickly forgotten. If anything, he felt that his instructors demanded more of him than any of the others.
Relationships were virtually impossible during that time. After all, it was difficult to become friends with someone only to have them eliminated when they couldn't pass the Choosing. The more noble bowed their heads as they accepted their fates, while the more juvenile among them screamed and fought the guards on the way to their executions.
As the years dragged on, the Choosing became more and more extreme as the expectations of the people became higher. Weakness was not an option for Larzukan, and although he sometimes loathed the life he had been born into, he was not willing to sacrifice it. Like his opponents, he wanted to live, even though he secretly did not truly wish to lead. Yet, to fail was to die.
By year three of his training, he was among the top in the academy, and by year seven, he led with a significant margin. Only after he was named Se’Quin, meaning the first, did his mother publicly acknowledge him as her son. Larzukan held his place as the first until the final Choosing when he was officially named as king and leader of his people.
He remembered well the day she had looked upon him after his Choosing and smiled tenderly down on him from her throne above the arena as their people roared with joy. Her soft blue face radiated with pride as Larzukan was given the headpiece that forever signified his station as the king. Then, and only then, had he ever seen a show of affection from his mother.
Frintuk bowed slightly as he was crowned, with her hand pressed honorably to her breast. Larzukan’s eyes had remained locked on his mother as the crowd erupted once again into a thunderous round of short high-pitched cries signifying their acceptance of his role.
Almost an entire cycle had passed since Larzukan’s Choosing, and it was now certain that at the completion of the current cycle, he would officially take the throne. Frintuk’s time as queen would come to an end with the passing of the third sun, and she would go to the ceremony of Continuance with honor. It would be at that point that Larzukan would need to take a wife.
He had less than one passing before his coronation, but that was not what had him staring out at the city this night. Along with his coronation would come his joining ceremony. No king could be allowed to take the throne without a wife by his side. It was his people's way of assuring security and the continuation of the royal line.
Larzukan sighed deeply when he heard the soft footsteps behind him. He did not need to turn around to see who it was.
“Why do you disturb me out here, Blancon? Do you not see that I wish to be alone?”
Blancon stepped up to the railing beside Larzukan and inhaled the chilly night air.
"Your wish to be alone is why I am here. The Queen has asked me to speak to you again."
Larzukan gritted his teeth and growled as he pounded a fist sharply on the banister.
"I do not need a reminder of my duties, Blancon, as I have had nothing in my life that was not a duty. Why should a wife be any different? Do you believe that because I was born to be king, I should not have love? I did not have the love of a father. He was taken from me. I did not have the love of a mother. She cared only for the sanctity of the line. Even friendship was denied to me. Now the love a woman will be denied to me as well."
Blancon spread his hands out, indicating the city below. "Larzukan, look at the city. Right now, there are women beyond count asleep in their homes, dreaming of being able to give you their love. You are surrounded by beautiful women! How can you say you would be denied love? Every one of those women would love you without question. And do not say to me that you have been denied friendship. I stand with you now, do I not? Even though I believe you to be a fool at times.”
Larzukan turned to look into Blancon’s eyes. As Se’Hun, the second, Blancon had been granted the position of instructor to the king. With Larzukan’s ascension to the throne, Blancon would become his advisor. Having been born into a family of much lower rank, Blancon’s Choosing had given his family a status they would not have been given otherwise.
In Larzukan’s land, status was given and taken by the Choosing, and Blancon had fought hard beside Larzukan through the years to ensure his family’s position. If it could be said that Larzukan had a friend, Blancon would be the closest.
Larzukan also understood that as second only to himself, should he not take the throne, Blancon would be the most likely choice.
“Do you stand beside me as a friend, Blancon, or do you stand here because my mother sent you? If you could push me over this banister without anyone the wiser, would you not do it in order to take my place?”
Blancon’s eyes took on an injured look and then turned to a flash of anger.
"Larzukan, you are king. Not me, you. Our people need you as their king and they need me as your advisor. That is why the Choosing exists, to ensure that we are in the roles deemed best for the people. Right now, what is best for the people is for me to advise the future king of his stupidity."
Larzukan sighed as he placed a long, slender blue arm on Blancon’s shoulder.
"Forgive my words, Blancon. I speak out of frustration, not out of truth. You have been placed correctly, and I will do my best to heed your words. Speak, and I will listen.”
Blancon held his head high as he answered. "Larzukan, you must take a wife. The only kind of king who has no wife and no heirs to rule in their stead is a dead king. Our people cannot afford that right now, not so soon after the war.
You may not believe that your mother loves you, but she has given you a people to rule that adores you. She has brought peace to a people who before had none. She has assured that when you take the throne, you will do so uncontended.
I do not doubt that you will be as good a king as your mother has been a queen, but you must take a wife. The people will not accept you otherwise."
"I do not believe that it will be as bad as you think, Larzukan. All before you have done as you must now do, and they have found happiness in the arrangement. You, too, will come to find happiness with your chosen mate, as she will with you.
“Floretta is a fine woman, and the people will accept her. Pertvia, too, is an acceptable choice, though I believe the people will choose Floretta.”
Larzukan sighed as he looked across the expanse. He could clearly see the arena laid out before him. In the same arena where he had stood for his Choosing, now another would be chosen as well—chosen to be his mate.
“The tournament is barbaric, Blancon. It is no way to choose a wife.” Blancon drew in a sharp breath, stepping closer to his future king.
“Larzukan, do not say such things. The tournament is no different than the one we faced or any others to have gone before us. The tournament defines us and gives our lives purpose. You must not say things such as what you have just spoken.
“You are named King, but you will remain so only at the behest of the people. Do not bring dishonor to your line by turning them against you. In three months’ time, the tournament will begin. You will be present, and you will show your support.”
Larzukan rubbed his eyes as he took one final look across the city. "Yes, Blancon, you are right. These are the things I must do. I will see them done. Please tell my mother that I will bring her honor. She should rest easy and without a heavy heart."
Blancon nodded his head with a smile dancing across his face. “You will make a good king, Larzukan, and a good friend. As I said, I do not believe that you will find your life as hopeless as you fear."
Blancon turned to go, but just as he reached the outer door, Larzukan called his name. Blancon turned slowly in response.
“When I become king, you will become my advisor. That does not mean that I must always take your advice. If there are no other choices to be had, I will do as I must. There are still three months before the start of the tournament. In that time, you will look for another option for me.
“You will look diligently and with all your resources, or I will take it as an inability to maintain the station for which you were chosen. I know how capable you are, however, and I have no doubt that you will be able to find another option. Consider it your first task to the king. Do not fail me, Blancon."
Blancon swallowed hard at the implications. Without a word, he turned and walked inside the palace doors. He contemplated telling the queen but quickly dismissed the idea. It was quite likely she would accuse him of treason and have him dishonorably executed. On the other hand, if he failed Larzukan, he could suffer the same fate.
At times like these, Blancon almost wished he had been chosen for another station—almost. A smile spread across his face as he began to work the problem over in his mind.
Blancon did not doubt the choosing, and if there were a way, he would find it. Besides, he thought to himself, if Larzukan could find another bride, then Floretta would be free. Larzukan knew that Blancon secretly wanted to take Floretta for his own.
Three days passed, and Larzukan had seen no sign of Blancon. The task Larzukan had assigned to Blancon was meant for more than one reason. As much as he hoped that Blancon would be successful in finding an alternate solution to his marriage, the primary reason was much more important to his future.
Larzukan needed to test Blancon’s loyalty. Larzukan had plans for the future of his people, and he needed someone beside him who could be counted on to stand by his side unconditionally. There were others who could advise the king just as well as Blancon, but loyalty was something harder to come by, especially for the Tharagan people.
As if on cue, the large doors to Larzukan’s room opened and Blancon entered carrying a stack of documents. Blancon tossed the documents onto the massive red oak desk and then threw himself casually into one of the oversized sofas in the ornate room.
“Good morning, my King! I hope you have been well in my absence.”
Larzukan gave a half smile in return. "That depends on what news you have for me, Blancon.”
Before Blancon could answer, the door opened yet again, and two Tharagan women hurried into the room, giggling and carrying jugs of wine. Floretta’s long, slender form leaned suggestively over the desk where Larzukan sat as she placed the wine on the table right in front of Larzukan. Blancon glanced furtively at her cleavage and then back to Larzukan, who gave him an admonishing look.
“I’ve brought some of the finest wine for you, my King. It is from the Eastern province.” Floretta smiled.
The second woman, Pertvia, came and displayed herself in the same way, also setting down a jug. “And I have brought you a very sweet wine from the south. It is sure to make you feel happy and relaxed, which is important for one who works so hard.”
Larzukan smiled indulgently at the women while wincing internally. “Thank you both,” Larzukan said, and then he dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
The two women nearly fell over one another trying to curtsy and smile and blush as they backed out of the office. As soon as the door closed, Larzukan breathed a sigh of relief and laid his head in his hands.
"I cannot believe that those two women are at the top for their Choosing. Can you imagine what would happen to the kingdom should either of them become my wife?" Larzukan shuddered at the thought.
“What is wrong with you?” Blancon asked. “Floretta and Pertvia are at the top for a reason, just as you and I were at the top. Either of them would give her life to be your bride. They are both intelligent, they’re great fighters, and they look amazing. I would love to get one of them alone in bed if the opportunity presented itself.”
Larzukan shook his head. He took the first jug of wine and poured half of it into a glass. Then, he picked up the second jug and filled the glass the rest of the way with that one. He held the glass up to the light. “You see, Blancon, everything in our world needs balance. I need a woman who can be strong where I am weak. I need a wife who will better our kingdom, not one who is already in it and who only wants the throne for selfish reasons.
“Floretta and Pertvia are like the Pinche. They are also beautiful creatures on our planet, but their bite is poison and will kill with each beat of the heart until the heart fails completely. It is a terrible death that awaits their victims."
Blancon rapped his knuckles on the desk thinking about his next move. “All people are selfish to some degree, your majesty," Blancon said.
Larzukan felt as though something had pierced his heart when he heard his friend say those words. "Really? Are you, Blancon? Are you as selfish as Floretta and Pertvia?"
Blancon did not answer immediately as he sensed that this was some kind of test. Instead, he waited for Larzukan to continue.
“Blancon, I had you followed, you know. When you left me last, I needed to know where your loyalties lie. I needed to know if you would betray me.”
Blancon swallowed hard at how close he had come to doing just that. Larzukan took a long drink of the glass with the two wines, one bitter and the other sickeningly sweet. The blend was perfect.
"Thankfully, you did not betray me, my friend. Selfish you may still turn out to be, but for now, I will trust you.”
Larzukan poured a glass of the sweet wine and handed it over to Blancon, who took it graciously. After a long pause, Larzukan finally continued.
“I can feel her, Blancon. Somewhere out there beyond the great expanse lies the woman who is meant to be my mate.”
Blancon nodded. "Then why not simply follow that yearning? Why not just go out and get her, your majesty?" Blancon asked.
Larzukan turned away. "I don't believe she's born of this planet, my friend," he said sadly.
Blancon lifted an eyebrow. "In that case, my King, you will be pleased to know that I have not spent the last three days idly. I have found a solution to your problem. Other planets have fantastic women, many of whom are already leaders.
“Take the planet Earth, for instance. They have mail-order brides on that planet. You can interview women online via the Celestial Mates agency and pick one to suit your purposes. I looked very keenly at the regulations involving the mating to the king.
“The only true regulation is that the woman must be chosen as first at the tournament and be capable of producing an heir. If you could find a woman and have her trained, the people would have no choice but to accept her as your queen. Perhaps you can find the woman you seek in this way?"
Larzukan sat back in his chair, looking at the stack of papers Blancon had thrown on his desk. Blancon smiled as he spread out his hand.
“I took the liberty of gathering some prospective brides and their resumes from Celestial Mates. As your advisor, I would suggest looking to Earth. Many other planets would come with political disadvantages. Earth does not know anything outside of their own world and so would pose no threat to us, or to you, my King.”
Larzukan slowly picked up the first page on the stack as he contemplated this plan. “It is not easy for a woman to be chosen as first, and she will not have had the training necessary. The women here can be vicious and will not take kindly to an outsider, especially one who would become queen over them. What would my mother say?” Larzukan laid the paper back down on his desk and folded his hands under his chin.
Blancon had planted the seed, and now it was time to let it grow. He lifted himself from the couch and bowed low. “There is still time to make your decision, my King. I will be ready to serve no matter your decision.” Blancon excused himself from the office and headed down the hallway, a smile dancing across his face.
That night, Larzukan lay awake in his bed, thinking about Blancon’s suggestion. He envisioned a beautiful brunette girl with piercing green eyes, reaching out for him. When he finally drifted into sleep, he dreamed of a harem of women. Yet sadly, somehow, all of the women looked exactly like Floretta and Pertvia.
“Come and please me, Master, so that I can teach you how to rule,” Floretta said, tossing her blonde hair over one shoulder.
“I will have you, and you’ll make my father’s lands rich. Be mine,” Pertvia added.
Larzukan sank into a sea of bodies, all of which were reaching out for him. There were hands upon his shoulders, his back, his legs, his manhood . . . and all of them were saying, “I want. I want. I want.”
A few hours later, he woke in a cold sweat and immediately pressed the button to the side of his bed. By the time he pulled himself into a sitting position in his bed, the door opened and Blancon entered. He slid to a stop in front of Larzukan. “What’s wrong, my King? Has something happened? Should I call for the Healer?”
Larzukan shook his head as he wiped sweat from his brow. “No, Blancon, a healer cannot help me now. Bring me a fresh pair of clothes and the list of eligible women from Earth. We will begin the search together, tonight.”
Blancon left Larzukan’s room, throwing instructions to the staff for fresh linens, clothes, and food to be brought immediately. Servants ran in every direction at Blancon’s orders. As Blancon picked up the files, he smiled to himself. The seed had taken root. He made one brief stop before heading back to Larzukan’s room, checking closely to make sure he was not being followed.
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