Irresistible Forces

guarded.

Vyrl knew he was missing whatever his father wanted him to see. 'I didn't finish my studies on Majda,' he admitted.

Eldrinson hesitated, discomfort leaking past his mental barriers. He didn't even admonish Vyrl for his lack of scholarly effort. Instead he said, 'As the head of Majda, Devon must ensure that her line continues.'

Although Vyrl wasn't sure why his father cared, he could well imagine that the House of Majda was upset, if their matriarch had reached the age of thirty-eight without producing any children. 'She needs heirs.'

'That's right.'

When his father said no more, relief spread through Vyrl. Apparently the lesson was over. He stood up. 'Shall we join the others? I'm starving.'

'Vyrl, wait.' Eldrinson raked his hand through his hair. 'We need to discuss this.'

Vyrl stopped, then slowly sat again. 'Discuss what?'

His father answered quietly. 'Your betrothal.'

What? The word thudded in on Vyrl. Betrothal? He must have misheard. 'I'm not betrothed to anyone.' His voice cracked on the last word.

'I realize this is unexpected.' His father gave him a look of apology. 'Your mother and I had intended to take more time, to let you adjust to the idea. This visit caught us by surprise. We've just received word that Brigadier General Majda — that's Devon — will be here in two days.'

A constriction tightened Vyrl's chest, making it hard to breathe. 'Brigadier General? At thirty- eight?' He was no military expert, but even he knew that however old it might sound to him, that age was young for such a rank.

'She's good at what she does. Very good.' His father added dryly, 'Her family connections don't hurt either.'

Vyrl struggled to mask his turmoil, to hide the chaos of his emotions. Surely an escape existed from this disaster. 'This is too fast.'

Sympathy washed across his father's face. 'I'm sorry it is such a shock. Your mother and I want you to be happy. Vyrl, we spent a great deal of time checking out Devon. She is a good person. And as the Majda consort, you can follow pursuits you could never have here.' Awkwardly he added, 'Including an, uh, artistic career, if you wish.'

Vyrl barely heard him. All he could see was Lily, her lovely face bright in the sunshine, like a lost dream. Betrothals among the noble Houses were political arrangements; his parents and Majda had probably been negotiating for months, even years. These matters carried the weight of governmental decrees. Nineteen-year-old Eldrin, his oldest brother, had married the Ruby Pharaoh three years ago, his own kin, as tradition dictated. But it wasn't fair. He wasn't Eldrin. He wasn't the firstborn. He had three older brothers and three younger ones. His parents had turned down offers for his other brothers, considering the matches unsuitable. Vyrl had never expected they would accept one for him, especially with the highest placed member of the most powerful House.

What made it even worse was that he understood their reasoning. He was more family-oriented than his older brothers, more suitable as a consort. If Majda needed an heir, she had to marry relatively soon, which left out his younger brothers. And more than anything, he understood the gift his parents wanted to give him, the chance to pursue his love of dance, something he could never do here on Lyshriol.

It didn't matter. He couldn't marry a female warrior. He couldn't do it. Just as men never danced on Lyshriol, so women never fought in battle. His stomach clenched. If he revealed how he felt about Lily, his parents would have her sent away, to remove a distraction that might interfere with his betrothal. He couldn't bear the thought.

He struggled for calm. 'I don't want to marry.'

Eldrinson spoke in the kindly voice Vyrl had trusted his entire life, but which gave him no mooring now. 'It's all right. You will have time to get to know her, to feel more comfortable with this situation.'

'Why can't Althor marry her?' Vyrl thought of his brother; at seventeen, Althor was preparing to go off-world to a military academy. 'He wants that life. He would be perfect for her.'

'You're the one she offered for.'

'But why! Althor is older. So is Del-Kurj.' In truth, Vyrl couldn't imagine anyone marrying his wild brother, Del-Kurj, but that didn't make this any easier.

Eldrinson's face turned thoughtful. 'I can only guess as to Devon's motives in regards to Althor. Majda is a conservative matriarchy. I suspect Devon doesn't want a fighter pilot for a husband. As for Del-Kurj… ' He made an angry wave with his hand. 'Let's just say he has had a few indiscretions.'

Few, Vyrl would have laughed if he hadn't been so upset. Del-Kurj already knew more about women than most grown men in Dalvador. He liked girls and they liked him, and he made no secret about it, despite the trouble it caused him. Del hadn't fathered any children yet, but if he kept up in the way he'd begun it would only be a matter of time.

Vyrl spoke in a low voice. 'Does the Assembly want this betrothal, too?'

His father nodded. 'Stronger ties between Majda and the Ruby Dynasty will cement alliances the Assembly sees as crucial to the stability of our government.'

'I don't want to stabilize a government.' He couldn't keep the pain out of his voice.

'Ah, Vyrl.' Eldrinson's voice held deep regret. 'I am terribly sorry this news is unwelcome. If it helps to know, your mother and I truly believe this can be a good match. Devon Majda will treat you well, with respect and honor.'

'She's ancient'

His father's expression lightened. 'If she is ancient, I fear to ask what that makes your mother and me.' His smile faded. 'We do have concerns about the age difference. But with modern techniques to delay aging, eventually you won't be so aware of it.' Gently, he added, 'You may come to love her, in time.'

Vyrl could only shake his head. His dreams were slipping away, like the glitter from a ruptured bubble spreading on the wind.

2. The Silvered Plains

The circular chamber was high in a tower of the castle. Vyrl stood at the window looking out over the countryside. The three figures crossing the Dalvador Plains were too far away to see clearly, but he recognized his mother's streaming gold hair and his father's confident stride.

Beyond them, about a fifteen-minute walk from Dalvador, the starport made a cluster of whitewashed buildings with blue turreted roofs. It resembled a Dalvador hamlet — except for the gold-and-black spacecraft that crouched on the landing field like an intruder. The shuttle had come down from one of the battle cruisers that orbited Lyshriol. Vyrl had never thought much about the ships up there, beyond knowing they provided one of the best orbital defense systems in settled space. If only they could have defended him against the arrival of Brigadier General Devon Majda.

He wished he could fly away, beyond the suns in the lavender sky. The larger orb was eclipsing the smaller, like a great golden coin surrounded by a halo. To the east and south, farms drowsed in the sunlight, uncaring of interstellar politics. Nearer by, his parents and their guest reached the village. He lost sight of them as they walked in among the houses.

Vyrl bit his lip, his heart aching for Lily. He glanced toward her home, a round white house on a hill, surrounded by other houses. He hadn't dared talk to her in the past two days, since their afternoon together. He had never made it to the festival that night, having been grounded for his truancy. He missed her so much, as if someone had taken out his center and left him with a hole only she could fill.

Yesterday he had seen her while he was walking to his father's farm with Althor and Del-Kurj. She and some other girls had been carrying baskets of bubble fruit. Before he could even think, he had started toward her, his heart surging, his pulse racing. He had gone only a few steps when his brothers called him back.

He couldn't confide in them. Given that one of his brothers might have to marry Devon if he didn't, he doubted they would want Lily distracting him, but neither would they want to betray his trust. Rather than put them