Clan and Crown (26 page)

Such outings were happening more and
more often. As his glass was refilled and Egilka chewed on a savory
bit of ronka jerky, he counseled himself that he may as well get
used to it. He and Clajak assumed more duties of state as they
trained for their future roles as half of the Empire’s royal
leadership. One day time would be so scarce that his research would
have to be relegated to hobby status.

I’m no closer to finding a
cure to our species’ infertility than when Clajak and I
clanned
, the Imdiko thought. That knowledge
brought gnawing disquiet to his guts. Potential avenues of
treatment had been investigated, tried, and cast away as
unworkable. It worried Egilka that he might have to set aside his
promise to Cyrt in order to serve Kalquor as he’d vowed. He told
everyone, including himself, that with every failure they moved
closer to success. He was still determined to make a cure happen,
but certainty that the answer would not elude him forever waned
with each failure.

Fortunately he had spent the day with
sights to distract his concerns for a little while. All those
nearly naked Nobeks danced before Egilka’s mind’s eye. Particularly
Bevau with his perfect body, Nobek aura of violence, and non-Nobek
sense of easygoing humor.

Mapping the high commander’s exquisite
features and physique in his mind made Egilka wonder if Bevau was
clanned. The Imdiko and Clajak needed to get serious about finding
their final male clanmate. Nobek Henbo had seemed to be the right
man until he’d shown up drunk at a formal anniversary celebration
recognizing Irdis joining the Imperial Clan fifty years prior. This
was at the end of what had been a five-day bender, during which the
reports had poured in of Nobek Henbo wrecking various bars,
crashing his personal shuttle into the local Temple of Life,
threatening the territory’s governor with beheading, and roaming
about naked and singing war songs at the Veteran’s Memorial. Now
Henbo was in a rehabilitation facility on one of Kalquor’s space
stations, his previously well-hidden alcoholism all the gossip
throughout the Empire.

“He ruined my reputation as the
irresponsible one,” Clajak had said when he’d begun to recover his
sense of humor about the whole sorry affair. “Now I have to find a
new persona.”

Did the physically perfect Bevau have
any dirty secrets that would discount him as a potential lover or
future emperor? Egilka sucked on his lower lip as he considered how
delicious it would be to roll around on a sleeping mat with the
delectable soldier. With a face and body like that, Bevau could be
forgiven much. He hadn’t seemed to be a cracked-skull moron whose
brains had leaked out either. That he appeared more carefree than
others of his breed was a plus in Egilka’s eyes. Clajak was
tempestuous enough without adding an easily enraged Nobek to the
mix.

Egilka stared into his drink, thinking
the matter over. It was too bad this hadn’t been one of those trips
that had meant an overnight stay. If they had spent the night, his
charming Dramok would have lured something luscious into their bed
... and that fascinatingly offbeat Bevau had been the most
intriguing candidate of them all.

As if his clanmate had read his mind,
Clajak spoke up. “My father, do you know anything about that High
Commander? The one named Bevau?”

Yuder regarded his son with an
emotionless gaze. Seeing the Nobek emperor like that gave Egilka
more pause than when Yuder got mad and yelled. Something of a
hothead, it was never a surprise to see the man explode,
particularly in the Royal Council chamber during a debate. However,
everyone knew it was when Yuder was quiet and seemingly detached
that he was most dangerous. He was easily the most daunting of the
Imperial Clan, a trained killer who did not suffer fools or their
nonsense. His tongue was as sharp as his blade. To be rebuked by
Yuder was to have bits of one’s soul sliced off.

Clajak knew that better than anyone.
The temperamental son often didn’t see eye to eye with his equally
volatile father. It didn’t keep the prince from respecting and
idolizing Yuder, however.

After giving Clajak that dispassionate
look that gave no hint of his feelings, the corner of Yuder’s mouth
twitched. “My son, why am I not surprised you would find one like
him interesting?”

The turn of phrase caught Egilka’s
attention. He inquired, “One like him?”

A steel-colored brow lifted. “Surely
you noticed, Egilka. Bevau is a dual breed. He’s classified Nobek,
but he’s also half Imdiko.”

So that was the elusive quality Egilka
hadn’t been able to name. Dual breeds were not often diagnosed when
a male child was categorized. When their true natures were
discovered, they were almost always either Dramok-Imdiko or
Dramok-Nobek. The nurturing Imdiko nature was seen as opposed to
the warrior Nobek mentality.

Egilka marveled, “That’s quite the
rarity.”

“Yes, it is.” Yuder considered for a
moment before saying in a musing tone, “Most of my kind would see
such a person as a joke to our breed – and an unfunny one at that.
I’m sure more than one Nobek in a fit of rage has tried to kill
Bevau for daring to be named one of us. However, Urb is impressed
with him. He says Bevau uses his quieter instincts to his
advantage. He does not act hastily, working to come to peaceful
solutions before crippling or maiming his foes. He has earned his
rank as a high commander many times over through
bravery.”

Clajak was as thoughtful as his sire.
“I’m surprised he wasn’t classified an Imdiko, as there are so many
fewer than Nobeks.”

“Nobek Bevau has a capacity for
violence that offsets the nurturer aspect when he’s angry.” Rueful
appreciation tinged Yuder’s voice. “He’s known for bloodthirsty
ruthlessness when the situation calls for it.”

Egilka pointed out, “He tossed those
recruits around quite handily.”

“Yes, he did. That tendency to
lightheartedness while he was doing it is not a Nobek trait
however.” The emperor shook his head, as if put off by such a
display. “It’s no wonder he’s not clanned, even with his rank and
outstanding history of service.”

Clajak asked, “What about his parent
clan? He had plenty to say about his fierce mother.”

“Urb says they are at the forefront of
conservation of our planet’s natural resources. Bevau’s mother
heads the lobby for that and is a vocal proponent of taking care of
Kalquor’s environment. The high commander wasn’t kidding when he
threatened his soldiers with her. She’s taken a swing or two at
opponents when she’s felt insulted.”

“Feisty Matara,” Egilka said with
admiration.

“She put the lawyer for a logging
interest in the hospital once.” Yuder chuckled at the thought, his
lean face delighted to talk of such clashes. He added, “Bevau’s
Nobek father is a head officer with this continent’s Wildlife and
Natural Resource Protection Enforcement. They are a highly-ranked
family.”

Egilka glanced at Clajak. His Dramok
had gone quiet. That meant he was thinking, which usually led to
trouble of some sort. Clajak did appear to be deep in thought, a
half-smile playing on his lips. Yes, the prince was plotting.
Egilka knew that look all too well.

In most cases, the expression on his
clanmate’s face would have elicited a groan from the Imdiko.
However he thought that this time Clajak was likely planning on how
he could get his hands and other body parts on Bevau. Instead of a
groan, Egilka was forced to smother a grin. He was not averse to
finding out what a dual breed was like in the sack.

Which way would Nobek Bevau turn when
aroused? Forceful? Caring? Maybe a little of both? The potential
someone like the high commander presented was too enticing to not
be considered.

Egilka would have dove into his own
thoughts and fantasies concerning Bevau, but Yuder moved on to less
pleasurable conversation.

“Tell me, young princes, what are your
opinions on who will be elected head councilman at the next
session?”

All of Clajak’s happy musing
disappeared from his face in an instant. “Please, anyone but
Pwaldur,” he beseeched the ceiling of the shuttle, which was
apparently standing in for the ancestors who Kalquorians regularly
called on for aid. Clajak had never made any secret of his dislike
for the ambitious councilman.

Egilka sighed, his own alluring visions
dissipating in an instant. “Don’t bet on it. He’s lobbying the
masses for their support, and he’s getting it.”

“The people don’t elect the head
councilman; the other councilmen do.”

Yuder was no friend of Pwaldur’s
either, which was probably why his impassive mask slid over his
features. Affecting a bored tone the emperor pointed out, “The
Royal Council would be fools to vote in someone not supported by
the people, however.”

Egilka pulled a face. “Not to mention
we’re betrothed to Pwaldur’s daughter. You can’t tell me that won’t
count for a lot.”

Clajak bounced his heel impatiently on
the floor. “Can’t we talk about anything nice?”

Yuder gave him a severe look. “Narpok
is a suitable candidate for your Matara. She’s been groomed for it
almost from birth.”

“She’s a spoiled brat,” Clajak
grouched.

Egilka couldn’t resist saying, “So are
you.”

Clajak gave him a grin that melted
Egilka’s heart. “All the more reason to avoid her for as long as
possible. You have all you can handle with me, my
Imdiko.”

Egilka had to laugh at that. He felt
the familiar adoration for the often irritating but wonderful man
who had become his much loved Dramok. His heart filled with the
emotion.

Yuder cleared his throat. “If you two
are finished?”

Egilka dropped his warm gaze from
Clajak’s handsome face. “Apologies, my emperor.”

“I’m sorry, my father.” Clajak didn’t
sound remorseful in the least.

Yet he did straighten in his seat and
addressed the subject as if he’d put a great deal of thought into
the matter. Egilka had no doubt his clanmate had done just that.
For all his shenanigans, Clajak paid attention to what was
happening in the governing halls of Kalquor. Beneath the brash
devil-may-care exterior, the Dramok took his duties as future
emperor seriously.

That attitude was reflected in his
sober bearing and words. “Pwaldur has the support of the majority
of Kalquorians. However, he is known as opportunistic and overly
ambitious among the members of the Royal Council. Other councilmen
find it hard to work with him. In contrast, Councilman Onia,
Pwaldur’s main rival for the position, has seniority and the
ability to compromise in such a way that everyone feels their
voices are heard. Despite not being as accessible to the public as
Pwaldur is, it cannot be denied that Onia has the Empire and the
council’s best interests at heart. For that reason, I think Onia
will be the clear victor.”

For a bare moment, Yuder allowed
himself to look impressed. Then his face turned inscrutable again,
and he looked to the Imdiko. “Prince Egilka?”

Egilka had not been lax about
considering the matter at some length. “I concur with Clajak’s
opinions as to Pwaldur and Onia’s attributes. I think those
councilmen running for re-election next year might be swayed to
Pwaldur’s side however, just to appease their constituencies. It
narrows the gap between the two frontrunners.”

Clajak nodded to his clanmate. “Good
point. I hadn’t taken the elections into account.”

“I’m not surprised.” Egilka shrugged
off his Dramok’s consternation. “The number of seats up for grabs
on the council is not so large. Even if the majority of those
trying to be re-elected went for Pwaldur, Onia still possesses a
slight edge overall. I am also hopeful for his
appointment.”

Yuder looked at them both. He let a
rare smile dust across his mouth. “You’ve both made good
assessments of the situation. I also think we will have the better
option of Onia as our head councilman.”

Clajak’s chest swelled a little. Egilka
could tell he was fighting to not break into a grin. Approval from
Yuder was always a hard-won victory, an event worth celebrating.
The Dramok prince relished each taste of such for days on
end.

Egilka took a swig of bohut, hiding a
smile. He was happy for his clanmate.

Chapter 13

Bevau was in a characteristic good mood
as he went from the open air dining area to his office in the
administration building. And why not? His primary squad was doing
punishment laps on the obstacle course after a pretty decent – but
not perfect – session in blaster techniques training. His ribs were
bruised from one recruit’s stellar performance against him in
self-defense techniques. An entire team of his men had taken out a
rival officer’s team in a skirmish. Bevau was on target to deliver
another squadron of elite front-line warriors to the ground forces
right on schedule. Maybe even sooner. Added to that, his belly was
pleasantly full thanks to the fine job his men had done hunting in
the nearby woods last night. Life was good.

If he hadn’t had to sign a bunch of
bullshit forms and reports due to the Royal Council’s Ground Forces
Training Committee, the Nobek would have counted it as a perfect
day. Fortunately for him, Bevau didn’t find administrative tasks
quite as soul-killing as his fellow Nobeks. What drove them crazy
within seconds he could handle for an hour. Two perhaps, on days
like this. It was one of the edges his dual nature gave him over
the rest.