Heir Of Violence (#1 Betrayed Destinies) - ONC2024

Chapter 2 - Grey Eyes

Crown Prince Zaen of Penates was ready to wring his best friend's neck when stormy grey eyes distracted him. Unlike the ridiculous sycophants surrounding them—by the starless void, why did those silly girls have to shriek and destroy his eardrums whenever he moved?—the pixie those incredible wide eyes were attached to had her pert nose scrunched in a scowl. Did she hate this racket, too? No recorder shoved towards him—she wasn't paparazzi. In fact... was she trying to reach the check-in? Poor thing disappeared in the throng. Good fortune to her.

"Why'd you invite all these desperate elite chasers?"

Zaen narrowed his eyes at Emmed while still smiling and waving at the crowd. "I didn't, fuckwit. I thought you did."

His best friend snorted. "No rutting way. I'm not spaced. Is your aunt on another kick to find your soulmate?" Emmed eyed him, mouth twisting in distaste. "Stars... can you imagine if it was one of these annoying o-deps? Pretty... but damn." He shuddered. "They've spent too long in leaky airlocks. What would you talk about after you finished railing one?"

Zaen groaned and checked that the cuffs of his synthate gloves were well up under his wrist bracer. "Probably. And fuck you. Don't wish that disaster on me, asshole. After all, it could be you, instead." 

He grinned at Emmed's wide horrified brown eyes, then beckoned to Dhevun, his bodyguard and one of the massive Cygani—a heavy gravity world that produced the strongest individuals across the known universe. King Xavix insisted on the best security currency could buy for his remaining heir. No one eluded Dhevun's starship-like limbs. "Clear out this entourage," Zaen commanded. "They've had their gawk at me. I don't want them following me all over the planet on what is supposed to be a vacation." At least, that was what he'd led the paparazzi to think—a cover to continue his search for that sharding assassin who'd killed his mother and sister.

"Yes, Sarru," rumbled Dhevun's gravelly voice. With a few words into his wrist com, his security team began ushering people into gravlifts.

Zaen and Emmed traded barbs as they waited—a skill honed from the cradle given the constant intrigues of his father's court and frequent visits with his aunt to the back-stabbing senate of Sigma Draconis, an unfortunate inheritance from his mother that his father insisted he maintain. Not that he and his best friend disliked each other. On the contrary. Between them, the insults were a game of oneupmanship, a masculine form of camaraderie that kept their wits sharp for battles in political arenas.

The surrounding noise faded as he stared into the depths of those stormy grey eyes again—this time only a handful of metres away. Endlessly deep and fascinating, he sensed the annoyance radiating as her arms crossed and that cute wrinkle reappeared on her nose. He couldn't help his smile. Not the polite wide grin he sported for the cameras. No, a bubble of true amusement sparked and expanded, lightening his chest. Not impressed with the chaos and not hiding it to keep from offending him, she was a delightful breath of honest reaction, surrounded by this sea of superficiality. 

"What's got you so fascinated? Don't tell me... it's your soulmate?" Emmed teased, poking Zaen in the arm.

Zaen snorted and batted Emmed's hand away. "As if, chode. No, I'm just amused"—and intrigued, but he wasn't about to admit that—"at the unlucky traveller who arrived at the same time we did and got caught in this damned crowd."

"Ah... amusement at another expense. Yep, sounds like you, you heartless jiswinner," Emmed crowed.

After glaring at his friend, Zaen turned back, shifting to peer around people. Where had she gone? An unexpected sense of disappointment drooped his shoulders. It figured. Just when someone interesting showed up. He stifled a sigh and opened his mouth to insult Emmed when his security coaxed the next group into the lifts.