Lois
“And, because he lost the bet, Princey here had to shovel all the drak dung for a month straight,” Ral, one of Az’s teammates, laughs as he slaps Az on the back while they tell me one of their many stories. “You could smell him before you saw him coming, ain’t that right, Sunshine?”
“Sunshine?” I ask, taking a sip of the delicious hot drink the big one, Thax, just made for me.
“Yeah,” Zevan, the youngest of the group, starts, “because everyone thinks the sun shines out of his-” his words are muffled by a big hand covering his mouth as Az stands behind him.
“Language in front of the lady,” he chides his teammate while he locks eyes with me.
So, it turns out that whenever Az’s team is in the Capital, they stay at his penthouse apartment.
It makes sense. This place is lush, huge, and Az is generous like that.
The thing is, the team wasn’t meant to travel here for the big game for another couple of weeks, but once they heard Az had gone ahead of them, they took it upon themselves to follow ‘Princey’ down here like the pied-piper of drakball players.
So now, this trip to the Capital definitely isn’t a little get-away-fuck-fest, no matter what our pleasure contract says. We have to share this space with six huge, boisterous athletes who seem to want to make Az’s business their own.
Not that I mind – I’m here on a different mission, after all.
And they all seem lovely so far.
There’s Varrex – or Vex – as they keep calling him. He doesn’t seem to like that, but I can see why they chose the nickname, as he genuinely does appear to be vexed all the time. He’s Az’s Second Drak Rider.
Ral is the team’s ‘Drakrunner’, whatever that is. He’s a little shorter than Az and Varrex, but he’s still taller than any human, and twice as flirty.
Thax is huge.
He’s just… yeah, massive.
He’s easily the biggest Xaviann I’ve ever seen, and if you told me he can crush diamonds with those muscles, I’d believe you.
Hell, I think one hug from him would probably crack a rib or two.
His position on the team is something called a ‘Hoopwarden’, which I’d bet good money means he’s the defense guy.
Which makes a lot of sense with those mile-wide shoulders of his.
And although he looks like he scares small children as a fun, weekend hobby, he’s actually the biggest teddy bear of the lot.
Zevan and Jorren are both ‘Field Breakers’, which, as far as I can tell, is quite a violent, combat-forward type of playing position.
Zevan is full of energy and enthusiasm, which is what makes me think he’s the youngest of the group, and Jorren…
well, everyone keeps regaling me with tales about him completely losing his shit and breaking stuff – including his opponent’s jaw bones, so…
Ok, yeah, I haven’t quite figured him out just yet.
That leaves Rykor. He’s quiet and polite, with a pleasant aura. He’s the guy who replaced Pax as the team’s ‘Arena Master’. And from what I understand, that means he’s the tech whiz who designs the terrains for the games.
There are too many new people to get to know all at once, but the one thing I did notice about Rykor is how his eyes seem to follow Zek around the room – to the point where he’s offering to help clean up after his teammates to save the staff member the trouble.
I grin to myself, watching Zek get a little flustered from the attention of the big, intelligent, famous drakball player, when there’s a chirpy-sounding ping that rings out throughout the apartment.
I gasp and hop down from the bar-stool-style chair – a feat that is actually quite terrifying considering the furniture is all Xaviann-sized. “DJ’s finished charging!”
A few of the huge guys look at me with confusion as I rush over to DJ’s docking station, where she’s been charging since her exhausting efforts in helping me contact my mom.
“You ok, girl?” I ask her as she comes to life, lighting up from the inside and lifting off from the dock to assume her position of hovering in the air around head height.
Well, around my head height, anyway.
It’s ridiculous, really, that I think of her as a person.
She’s a floating ball of tech. She doesn’t even have a face.
But when she ventures further into the small group of massive alien sportsmen, her little spherical body twisting this way and that, I can’t help but think she’s gawping at them all as they watch on with confusion.
The noise that leaves my body is more snort than laugh when she starts dancing and swaying as she decides the song ‘It’s Raining Men’ is the perfect soundtrack to our morning.
“Something’s wrong with your comms unit,” Zevan comments as he leans against the kitchen counter, shoving the food Zek is trying to prepare into his mouth before the poor guy gets a chance to serve it.
Az gives him a shove. “She’s programmed to be a companion,” he explains. “And Lois is very fond of her and her strange noises, so you will all be nice about it.”
“If you could all be seated at the dining table, I have managed to prepare a human delicacy for you all to break your fasts with this morning,” Zek announces as he swipes a half-eaten pastry out of Zevan’s hand just as it was on its journey to his mouth.
“I have been slaving away at the food replicators and finally think it is ready,” he says, gesturing for us all to leave his kitchen as quickly as possible.
We do as we’re told, but not before Zevan makes a play for another pastry from the countertop – a play that is swiftly intercepted by Rykor, who puts the food back on the plate, apologizing to Zek while ushering out his unruly teammate.
When we’re seated, Thax’s chair groans under the weight of all that muscle, and Zevan is the first to try and lift the shiny silver cloche we each have sitting in front of us all.
Rykor stops him by reaching over and putting a heavy hand on that silver lid, the gesture further punctuated by a glare that’s telling the younger male to behave.
“Is it pancakes?” I ask Zek as he bustles in with two more staff to fill all of our drinks.
He shakes his head, and I’m only a little disappointed.
We tried to replicate them back at the townhouse once, but whatever those things were we made, they were better for flinging around like frisbees than for eating.
“No,” Zek says, standing beside Az at the head of the table. “The human delicacy I have prepared for you all this morning is…” he pauses for dramatic effect, “a minimum!”
My brain does that record scratch kind of thing because… what?
And then I remind myself that Earth has a whole plethora of foods that I’ve never even heard of. For all I know, ‘a minimum’ could be a delicious breakfast from a far-flung place, oceans away from where I call home and-
Zek lifts the shiny silver cloche in front of me with flair and excitement.
Sitting there… all alone on a plate… is a singular brown M I hardly saw him move. “I am saving mine for Lois,” he grunts, not letting go of Zevan’s wrist until the guy nods in agreement.
Finally free, the younger Xaviann rubs at his wrist and looks Az over quizzically before his blue eyes flit between us both.
He opens his mouth to talk, but is interrupted by Varrex.
“Whatever this is,” he says, picking up a silver spork from his place setting and waving it between Az and I, “It had better not-”
“Whatever this is-” Az repeats, his tone commanding in that scary-calm kind of way, “-is none of your fucking business, brother.”
There’s a silent conversation going on between the two males as they stare at one another.
The staff, including Zek, quickly leave the room.
I kind of wish I could go with them.
Without a word, Varrex stands with his plate, the single red M&M wobbling on the china.
He walks around the table and places the single piece of candy in front of me.
“It has been a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lois,” he says.
“But if you will excuse me, I am tired from the journey, and think I will rest this morning before our training resumes.”
With that, he leaves.
Az rolls his eyes and tips his head back against the headrest, his double horns knocking lightly with the already damaged, ornately carved headrest of the chair.
“Is he… okay?” I ask, loosely pointing to where Varrex left us.
Thax, the big, gentle giant, shrugs as he gulps down his drink. “Varrex can be a bit-” he makes a see-sawing gesture with his palm.
“Vex always manages to find something to get his horns twisted about,” Ral supplies, smiling at me.
“Don’t take it personally. That male was not gifted by the Goddess Merri, that’s for sure.
It’s best to just leave him to it.” He then leans forward, elbow resting on the table, chin perched on his fist. “What everyone else is more interested in is what in the name of The Four were you two doing in Az’s chambers when we found you?
” He says the words, waving a silver spork at us, both just like Varrex had.
What is it with these guys and sporks?
I sit back, feeling my cheeks heat as I swallow.
“It was an activity called ‘a cuddle’,” Az supplies again, a lazy smile on his lips.
Thax grunts and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but Ral beats him to it.
“Fascinating,” he says with glee, lacing his fingers together, “and, how, pray tell, do I get in on this cuddle activity? I have a feeling I would be very good at it.”
Az’s teammates all peer at me like I’m about to give some not-to-be-missed sage advice.
“I… well…” What the hell am I meant to say? “I don’t know if Xaviann women even like to-”
“What is involved, exactly?” Rykor asks. “How do you engage in a cuddle?”
Ignoring his teammate’s questions, Ral turns to Az. “Was it good? It looks fucking amazing.”
Az shakes his head with a sly smirk on his face, like he’s about to blow their minds by describing the mechanics of a cuddle.
But he’s interrupted by Zek returning, looking a little flustered.
“For you, Prince Az,” he says, laying a small note, topped with a golden wax seal.
“People from the Central Palace dropped it off,” he says excitedly.
“You should have seen their uniforms! Gilded thread embroidery with glow stone pearls!”
Rykor leans back in his seat. “Sounds exquisite,” he says, his voice dipped a little lower than I’d noticed before.
Zek blinks back at the professional athlete who is absolutely eye-fucking the hell out of him right about now, and clears his throat to compose himself. Bowing to the table, he takes his leave.
“Are you gonna go this time?” Jorren asks Az.
Sighing, Az taps the unopened note against the crisp white tablecloth, contemplating.
“My father won’t be expecting me to accept the invitation to the palace, because I never do, but…
” he looks over at me and gives a half-smile.
“Glex may well be there. I can suck it up and make nice with the King if it helps you.”