SABINA

Sabina was still silently fuming as she found a spot at the bar and set her purse before her.

“Can you turn on the Kaivis Corsairs game, please?”

The bartender acknowledged her with a grunt and a flick of the vidscreen controls, and soon her home planet’s team was playing Krado in front of her, and doing terribly.

“Dammit,” she muttered, shelling a nut with more violence than warranted. Watching Krado was supposed to release her tension, not add to it.

She signalled to the bartender for a beer. What was one more minor sin tonight?

Not that she’d ever taken any vows of abstinence, of any sort. Norcia had never required her to forgo swearing, drinking, sex, or anything else a priestess might choose to abstain from.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had made a promise to keep her temper in line. She’d made all sorts of sacrifices to keep that promise, too, like avoiding watching her home team play as often as she’d like. To be a Corsairs fan was to know pain.

But she’d imperially screwed that promise tonight, and now she just prayed that Norcia would forgive her further sins.

“Oh, come on, Ref!” The words burst out of her before she could stop them. “That was clearly a bad tackle.”

Sabina slammed her hand on the bartop and violently shelled another nut.

“Got money on the game?”

She turned to regard the woman beside her and blinked. Was this a message from Norcia?

“Home team,” she said. “Do you follow Krado?”

The blue-skinned Prani woman shook her head; took a drink of her water. “I don’t think it’s made it to Maya yet.”

Sabina made a noise in response, but her attention was stolen away by the vidscreen again and another out of bounds move by the other team. She gritted her teeth and tried not to yell out the swear words tumbling through her head.

She couldn’t shake the feeling the appearance of another Prani beside her was a message from Norcia, though it could also just be coincidence. This bar wasn’t that far from the diplomatic wing.

But hadn’t she been thinking, as she stormed and fumed down the halls of the station, that clearly her visions had been wrong? That the man she’d met today could not be the one she was sent to help, to guide?

The only place she wanted to guide him was an airlock.

Sabina caught her breath, astonished at the vehemence of her own thoughts. Where had that come from? Yes, she had a temper, but years of discipline had tamed it…she’d thought. Regardless, there was no excuse for a thought like that, not when one was a trained Epoptas.

Even if she really meant it in the moment.

“Fuck,” she grumbled, crushing the nut she was holding to dust. The calls from the refs in this game were reminding her why she tried not to watch her home team play. Every ref had it in for them.

She forced herself to take a deep breath and turned, slightly, intending to strike up conversation with the Prani woman next to her—in case it really was a sign from her goddess. Or maybe just so she wouldn’t have to watch the exercise in hypertension on the screen in front of her.

As she turned, a group entering the bar caught the attention of her peripheral view, and she tried to hold back her snarl of frustration. What was he doing here?

Judging by the look on the Prani woman’s face, eyes flicking between Sabina and the mantrs who had just entered the bar, her reaction had not been silent.

“Did you have a run-in with one of them today?”

Sabina made eye contact with her half-empty pint glass, wishing it was full instead. “Unfortunately. He was a complete jackass.”

A small huff of laughter. “Let me guess. S’madhara?”

“How did you know?”

The blue woman shrugged, her eyes on the vidscreen above the bar. “I didn’t. It could have been any of the Dyausajiva mantrs. They have a reputation. But S’madhara…he’s more arrogant than the rest. Though some would argue not without good reason.”

Sabina scoffed at that. “Are politicians so revered on Chaya II?”

“No, but he wasn’t always a politician.”

That spiked her curiosity, but she had no chance to ask for clarification, because said arrogant jackass had joined them at the bar, coming to stand on the opposite side of the Prani woman.

“Officer Kulamahis,” he said in greeting, and Sabina cursed the flip her stomach did at the sound of his voice. It was beautiful when he wasn’t being insulting. “I would have thought you’d spend your down time with your husband.”

Officer Kulamahis inclined her head in his direction politely, but Sabina heard the bite in the other woman’s voice. “I was just about to go meet him for dinner, Mantr S’madhara. Enjoy your evening.”

She spun towards Sabina and stood, a hand braced against her protruding belly, and as she left she brushed close and whispered “Good luck” in Sabina’s ear.

Draivarya immediately took the empty spot, golden eyes boring into her.

Sabina shook her head and scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.” She turned resolutely to the vidscreen, intent on ignoring him.

I cannot believe this is my path.

***

DRAIVARYA

The priestess was still pissed off at him. Right now Draivarya didn’t care.

It didn’t help that he’d overheard Officer Kulamahis, putting him into an even fouler mood than he had been. The painkillers had stopped working, his headache continued, and he’d walked far too long on his bad knee.

And now the woman he’d tracked down to speak with again was ignoring him for a game on a vidscreen. A game that her team was clearly going to lose, judging by her reactions.

He signalled to the bartender to order a water—more expensive than beer, stationside, but he wasn’t giving his headache any ammunition—and then asked the man to turn off the vidscreen.

Hesitation was waylaid at the sight of Draivarya’s diplomat’s badge, clipped onto his lapel. The vidscreen clicked off.

The priestess snapped upright in her seat, like she’d been pinched, and slowly turned to face him, her expression close to committing murder. He was sure whatever she said next would cut him to the quick, that fiery temper laying waste to him, and he wondered at the almost bouncy eagerness that flooded him at the thought of it.

But she didn’t speak to him. She held her hand out to the bartender, commanded him with two words. “Remote. Now.”

The man looked between the two of them, obviously torn. “I don’t want to get in the middle of this,” he said, slowly placing the remote on the bartop between them. He held his hand on it for a second before leaping back as if burned.

The priestess was fast, but Draivarya was faster. His fingers closed over the remote as hers brushed his hand, and the electric spark he felt at that small touch simultaneously thrilled and confused him.

He shouldn’t be feeling this way for her—a pleasure priestess. He shouldn’t even be here, chasing down this distraction.

Yet somehow he couldn’t help himself.

The glare she levelled at him could have destroyed a small city with its heat.

“What, exactly, is your problem? I left you alone. Why did you follow me?”

“Who says I followed you?” That was precisely what he’d done, but hells if he’d admit it. He gestured his head to the group of mantrs on the other side of the bar, sitting in a booth. “I came with my group.”

“Then go sit with your group and let me watch my game in peace.” Each word was bitten off as if it physically pained her to say it in a normal volume.

He couldn’t help his small smirk. Something about her reactions made him want to keep poking. “Not much of a game. The Corsairs were clearly outmatched.”

The colour rose in her cheeks, small circles of pinkish red that could have been mistaken for a blush of embarrassment if one didn’t note the angry fire in her eyes.

“The refs have it in for them.”

Draivarya rolled his eyes. “Bad players blame the refs.”

“What would you know about it, anyway? Maya doesn’t have Krado.”

“Don’t need to know the game to know your team isn’t that good.”

The priestess’ eyes narrowed, and then—much to his surprise—she lunged for the remote in his hand. Despite his surprise he held it up out of reach in time, and tried not to laugh as the much-shorter priestess jumped for it.

She didn’t deign to entertain him for long. Two jumps, and she stopped, glaring up at him.

“Fine.”

She turned and gathered her purse, calling the bartender over so she could settle her tab.

Panic surged through Draivarya. She couldn’t leave. He was having far too much fun.

He clicked the button, and the abysmal score of the Kaivis Corsairs flashed across as the game came back on.

She glared at him sidelong, suspicion in her gaze as he slowly set the remote down on the bar, then held his hand up in the galaxy-wide gesture of surrender.

Her hand struck like a snake, moving the remote down the bar, firmly out of his reach, her suspicious gaze never leaving him.

“By all means, watch your terrible team,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant about it while his heart beat a little too fast. She still hadn’t retaken her seat on the bar stool, still looked poised to flee. The bartender watched both of them warily, as if afraid they’d come to blows.

Finally, achingly slowly, the priestess retook her seat and slid her eyes back to the vidscreen, avidly watching her game. But this time she wasn’t ignoring him. He could sense her attention, just like he could sense the attention of the bartender, or the group of mantrs at the booth across the bar, stealing confused glances his way, wondering why he wouldn’t join them.

Thank the gods Pratap was there to keep them in line, keep them from bothering him.

He forced his eyes up, keeping them on the vidscreen, watching the Corsairs play the worst game of their life. He didn’t know Krado, but it didn’t take long for him to pick up the gist of it. It had some remarkable similarities to Vosnakab, even if it was clearly far easier.

The Corsairs fumbled another pass, and the priestess swore and hit the bar top.

“Why do you root for such an awful team?”

She didn’t even deign to glance his way; just gave an irritated snort. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

Draivarya concentrated his senses, blocking out the rest of the bar to listen closer to the woman next to him. Reading Aradians was usually easy, but she was more locked up than most. Still, through it he sensed…loyalty?

Ah. Home team. She was from Kaivis.

Satisfied with that answer, he sat quietly and watched the game until the need to irritate the priestess rose again.

“You realize the game is already over and done. Vid feeds have a longer delay than text.” He began to pull his communicator out. “We could just look up the score and—”

A hand, on his wrist, and the priestess’ face was suddenly very close. “Do it, and no one will find your body. I know where all the unattended airlocks are on this station.”

She sounded dead serious. Draivarya felt himself smirk again, and replaced his communicator in his pocket. Her hand moved from his skin as he did, and he felt bereft of the brief heat her fingers had kindled.

It didn’t end up mattering. The game ended in the next three minutes, a devastating loss for the Corsairs. The priestess sighed, clicked off the screen, and placed the remote down behind the bar, out of his reach.

As he cast about for something else to say, anything to keep the conversation going, she stood and gathered her purse again, pulling out her own communicator to settle up the bill.

He opened his mouth to tell the bartender that he’d cover both their tabs. Her head whipped in his direction, and she hissed her words again. “Don’t you dare.”

Then she tapped her communicator on the terminal, and levelled her glare at the barkeep. “No tip tonight, for that crap you pulled with the remote.”

The bearded man nodded, head down, avoiding eye contact. “I understand, Priestess Sabina.”

Sabina. That was the name she said.

She softened. “I’ll make up for it next time. May the goddesses keep you.”

The man sighed in relief, mumbled a reply, and edged away from the two of them.

Clearly Draivarya had underestimated the power a hetaira could wield. And not just over him.

Sabina turned to him, then, and there was no warmth in her gaze. “I would say it’s been a pleasure, but I’m not supposed to lie. Have a good night, Mantr S’madhara. May the goddesses keep you.”

It sounded like a threat instead of a blessing.