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Scene #69
Sabine pressed her cheek to the bulkhead, listening to the speaker
on the other side. It was blaring orders for offloading of the
matches. *Of me. Of all those like me.* Her heart pounded
in apprehension. Despite what the priests on her home
world said, it was hard to anticipate being claimed as mate to a
male she'd never met. What if they were wrong? What if the male
wasn't kind? What if she felt no attraction to him?
“Sabine!” Anlu shouted, rushing to her side. “Isn't it wonderful?
Sakk, at last.” She managed a strained smile in return.
“Yes, I know.” *How old will he be? How needing of a
female?* “They're beautiful, you know.” Sabine
stared at her, darkening in the realization that Anlu was staring
longingly at the tips of her miniature wings. The wings
had been both a blessing and a curse to Sabine. Because of
them, Sabine hadn't been required to bear a child to the priests
before becoming mate to a Sakk male. It also meant that she'd been
granted freedom until her twenty-second yan instead of being bred
at eighteen. The rare winged matches, no matter how small or
malformed the wings might be, were revered; as such, they went to
claim uneducated in the touch of another male. Because of
the wings, males would fight to claim her. Only the strongest and
highest-ranking would have the chance to become her mate. Where
Anlu might be claimed by an older commander as a level-two match,
only a general or master general was in Sabine's future. He would
be a man twice her age, at least. Anlu sighed. “I wish I
had wings.” *I wish you had them instead of me.* Sabine
bit back the unkind thought before it could take the shape of
words. Instead, she nodded and grasped Anlu in a hug.
“Sabine!” Their nest mother waved her over, fussing with Sabine's
clothing and hair-feathers. Finally, she smoothed the unruly
feathers on Sabine's wings. As a second-generation
Sakk-born, Cholla's wings were full and majestic. One wrapped
around Sabine in a show of motherly protection. “Your
mother would be so proud,” she cooed. Sabine nodded, words
sticking in her throat. She could barely remember her mother.
Because of her wings, Jollee had been permitted to nurse Sabine for
five yans instead of the usual two. Had Sabine's wings
been full-sized or near to it, she would have traveled to Sakk with
her mother and been raised as the child of whatever male became
Jollee's mate. But Sabine was a short-flight, so she'd been left on
the seed planet when her mother came to Sakk to be mated. Sabine
had often wondered if it wasn't kinder to lose their mothers at
two, as the wingless young did. Surely, having no memories of her
had to be better than being taunted with them. All her
life, Sabine had been told how Jollee had walked the carpet,
dressed in purple as Sabine now was. Her mother had stood the dais
proudly, the dame of winged young one to an unwinged male...strong,
healthy stock. In the end, a general had taken her to mate.
According to the tales, Jollee had produced three young for her
general, one a fully-winged female. *Could her general not
have loved me, too?* There was no purpose in asking it, of course.
The law was the law. The door opened, and Cholla's mate
slipped in. Lut wound an arm around Cholla's waist and closed
Sabine in with a mirrored wing. “The word has spread,” he informed
her. “The males know a winged female is up for claim.”
Sabine tried to force her breathing to even. When she'd boarded the
warship, she'd done so wrapped in a cloak, her nest parents' wings
at her back and their bodies pressing in close around her. Of
course, the warriors knew what that signified. In moments, their
numbers had doubled...tripled...then more and more, all whispering
and peering at her. She'd bolted into the nest compartment the
moment they reached the doors and had collapsed into a bed,
shivering, listening for sounds of pursuit that hadn't come, Cholla
stroking calming hands down her back and face. *These
males will be older...more starved. And I won't be permitted a
cloak or guards.* Cholla and Lut each took one of her
hands, offering silent comfort. Then they separated and motioned
the two dozen matches into the presentation line. As the
only purple-clad match, Sabine would lead the line. The red matches
like Anlu would come next. The blue matches would end the
procession. With the need for females, even the blues were
guaranteed to be chosen by men of rank. The doors opened
fully, and the mated pair stepped aside. Taking a deep breath,
Sabine led the way down the purple carpet laid out for them.
She paused at the door to the claim stadium. There were so
many males, it made her head spin. Though an accurate count was
impossible, it seemed there were at least two hundred males for
each female disembarking. It hardly seemed possible that there
could be so many males in need of a mate, but she knew there were
more...hundreds of thousands more. Matches were brought in
every five turnings, alternating from seventeen seed worlds. A
small group might have only five matches in it; this one was among
the largest. Males were ordered, she knew. The
highest-ranking and those who'd waited the longest had priority.
They were closest to the carpet and the dais. The younger men,
those with less rank, and those who hadn't tried for a mate before
were further removed. *Mine will be one of the closest.*
Still, the females were not at the mercy of fate. They
could refuse a male who gave them cause to do it. Sabine suspected
most females accepted their first out of fear or awe or the belief
that males so deprived would have no self-control. She had
no such intentions.
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