Enticed by the Alien Warrior (Warriors of Agron #8) - Hope Hart Page 0,7
No. Even if she does take me up on my offer, I don’t become possessive of females. My focus is entirely on ruling my kingdom and avenging my parents’ deaths.
I glance at Korzyn, and he nods. Just as my enemies have spies in this court, I do. Just as they are getting closer to taking my throne, I am getting closer to discovering exactly who they are.
And when I find out who is responsible for so much death…
They will pay.
Vivian
I crunch down on a nut as Sarissa and I wander through the marketplace. Since we’re not strolling around with Arix this time, the people here barely pay us any attention. We’ve convinced the guards to follow us at a distance, and we’re squeezing through the crowded space, occasionally elbowing each other as we notice something that grabs our attention.
And almost everything grabs our attention.
The kradis are three-sided, and vendors—both from Agron and across the galaxy—are displaying their wares and negotiating with buyers. The air vibrates with the sounds of laughing, haggling, and so many languages that the translator in my ear is likely working harder than it ever has.
A man with hooves clomps toward a vendor selling jewelry, and I fight not to stare as he scans the display. Beside me, Sarissa is tense, one hand buried in her dress, likely clutching the handle of her knife. Her other hand is wrapped around the broken piece of the thruster. While we have a lead on someone who can replace it for us, there’s no harm in seeing if any of the other vendors here can get the job done more quickly.
“You know what I was thinking?” I ask, and she glances at me before quickly returning her attention to the crowd surrounding us.
“What?”
“This is the most time we’ve spent together in years.”
She smiles. “Yeah. I’m always out of the country for work. And when I’m home, you’re posing on a beach somewhere.”
I flinch at that, and of course she notices. “I’m not being bitchy, V. You’re one of the hardest-working people I know.”
I smile, but it feels fake on my face. While I don’t know exactly what Sarissa does, she’s constantly traveling. Either way, she’s helping to keep our country safe, while I’m helping brands sell their bikinis.
“Step right up, hit the target, and win a prize.”
I blink at that, and we both turn to a small stall. “What is this, a carnival?” I ask.
This kradi is larger than most, and at the end, opposite us, a target has been set up. It’s small and seems to be hanging rather precariously in place.
Along the front of the stall, a crowd is beginning to gather, a man with light-purple skin picking up a small wrapped bag.
He growls as he hefts it in his hand. “This has been weighted.”
The vendor, a Braxian woman, smiles at him. “The challenge is what makes the win worth it.”
Sarissa nudges me. “Go on, use your superpower to win us a prize.”
I roll my eyes. My “superpower” is a party trick I used to pull out to impress guys I liked, usually while playing darts after a few drinks. I can’t catch a ball to save my life, but I have an unerring ability to hit almost everything I aim at. I was pretty good with a crossbow during our battle with the Dokhalls, but I really shine when it comes to throwing things.
“What do we get if we win?”
Sarissa frowns at me. “The knowledge that we won, of course. Who cares about the prize; think about your reputation.”
I roll my eyes. My cousin is the most competitive person I’ve ever met. No one would play board games with her when we were kids, and she still has the uncanny ability to turn almost anything into a competition.
Sarissa is practically vibrating beside me. “Look, I’d do it, but my aim is crap compared to yours. Besides,” she says, lowering her voice, “this is a good way to get to know the locals. Locals who may be able to help us in the future, you know what I mean?”
I sigh. Trust Sarissa to be thinking three steps ahead.
“Fine.”
The purple man misses the target completely, his cheeks darkening as the crowd jeers. He stomps off, not looking back, and I step into the line behind a blue guy with thick horns sticking up from his head.
He hits the very edge of the target, hands over some credits for another shot, and then misses.