The Pursual: Book 1 of The Nome Chronicles

by F. F. John

  He says, “Skin off.” The grounds below his office come into view. There’s a sculpture garden with metallic, cement and other figures stretching horizontally and vertically. “It’s not our fault this happened. Each participant verified their medical information.”

  His fingers stall over his table, his face lighting up at whatever it reveals. With a short tap, his office wall takes on another skin. This one places us within a lush green meadow of violet flowers. “Apparently, his family hid his allergy. They probably thought it could be used against him. They can’t blame us for being unaware of something they should have revealed.”

  A sharp ping signals there’s a new message in his inbox and he reads it while rubbing his mustache. After some seconds, he looks up. “Thank goodness it wasn’t the Ategun boy, his mother would be a pain to deal with.” He says distractedly. “That entire family can be loud and abrasive.”

  Such callousness is a new low. Even for Father. Loic, after all, just died. His poor mom. She’ll be crushed. I remember my last conversation with her when she tried to convince me he’d make for a good match. If she’d known at the time what fate awaited him, I’m certain she wouldn’t have been so enthusiastic for him to participate. Guilt rushes at me so quickly and I forget to breathe. Loic is dead. Because of me.

  “His mother is on her way to collect the body.” Father continues, his focus on whatever is on his table screen. It’s possibly profit numbers for the numerous companies that fall under Reffour Enterprises. I shouldn’t be surprised at how uncaring he seems. He has frequently ridiculed me for showing too much emotion. He has no idea what I’m capable of. Yet, if being like him means I will be unsympathetic during such circumstances, I’d rather be me.

  My mind has wandered again and I only realize that Portan slipped into the office when Father queries him on whether the competition can proceed. Portan urges Father to take a day off, out of respect for Loic’s passing, but the recommendation is dismissed.

  “Why?” Father rubs his mustache. “Loic’s death will give us ample press and we should take advantage of it.”

  “Titan, I don’t mean to disagree—”

  “Then, don’t.” Father’s voice is one I know too well. Frigid and final. Portan bows deeply before exiting.

  Father taps a button on his table. “Aina, confirm with the Yetuns that Neith and I will attend the Titane’s birthday party this evening.”

  “Attending a birthday party on the day a scion died is insensitive. Especially as he died on our property at an event we invited him to.” He gives me a fixed stare and my gaze lowers.

  “Master Portan has overly influenced your thinking.” His voice is low. “There will be no sentiments involved here. We are going to the party. Everyone will want to see the hostess of the first Pursual in generations and you won’t disappoint them.”

  “Sohr, do you have that video from the factory?”

  And like that, our conversation is done and I’ve been dismissed.

  “The rebels attacked at two o’clock but nobody was hurt. They …” Sohr’s voice fades as I head to the door. I prowl the hallways of the main mansion until I am outside. The stars are out and I crane my head back, hoping one of them will twinkle for me.

  Bel walks over from the water fountain. “Is everything okay?”

  I tell her what I learned and she covers her mouth in shock. “Heavens,” is all she says when she finally speaks.

  “I’m glad Invier is safe.”

  “Really? You’ve got to also be concerned about the other participants.”

  “Sure. Having a scion die on our property isn’t good but we had nothing to do with it.” I look up to the sky again.

  “But as long as it wasn’t Invier, you don’t care?”

  Our eyes meet. “Yes.”

  She blinks but doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she takes my hand and we walk back to my living quarters. Our silence a thick blanket that cocoons us.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Neith

  Invier runs a hand through his hair. “You put me in close-quarters of a violent murderer, I endure a crazy virt experience and now Loic is dead but nobody’s telling us how. This is ridiculous!”

  My original plan for this early morning meeting was to hold him, tell him I love him and encourage him to do well in today’s competition. Rather, here I am, my mood darkening to match his and the geese scampering away as if they sense our boiling emotions.

  No. I’m not going to let tension drive a wedge between us. I thought I’d lost him last night. I need to be grateful he’s here and that he’s alive. Loic isn’t.

  Besides, from his perspective, he’s got the short end of this deal. I did trick him into this situation. His attitude is justified. Guilt scratches at my insides and my irritation at him diminishes.

  “I can’t do this, Neith.”

  The irritation is back but I take a deep breath to stem the emotion. Placing my hands on his chest, I rise on my tip toes and plant a peck on his lips. Ignoring his dour attitude, I say, “I’m going to tell you something but you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

  He grumbles but curiosity lights his bronze eyes. Still, he says, “No, don’t change the subject, Neith.”

  Desperate to distract him, I kiss him again. Longer this time. It has the desired effect as his stiff shoulders relax, lowering a few inches.

  “You’re going to want to hear this. Promise to keep it a secret?”

  “Fine. I promise.”

  “Loic’s family wasn’t upfront about his allergies. A chemical in his tracker triggered a severe reaction.”

  Curiosity becomes confusion on his face. “How can that kill him? Is it a standard tracker? It allows your nome to know where we were on the estate?”

  “Yes, and yes, but Father created one that also allows the technicians to track you all within the shell. I discovered that the trackers allow technicians to monitor your body temperature, heart rate, and other indicators.”

  “Hmm. With that sort of information, your family will know almost everything there is to know about us. Whether we like it or not.” He scratches his scalp. “I hope there are no cameras or listening equipment in our rooms. We do have a right to privacy.”

  I kiss him lightly on his cheek, which elicits a small sheepish grin and he stops complaining. His chin tucks downward at the several geese now scattered between our feet. “Why are they so close? I might step on them.”

  “You better not.” I punch him playfully and he smiles broadly for the first time this morning.

  I pull out a neatly folded paper bag from my jeans pocket. Flinging the squished slice of bread it contains, I toss it as far as I can to send the geese off. Like Invier, I don’t want to step on the geese. They may be small, insignificant creatures, but I’ve come to learn that they have character and personalities no less complex than any human. The geese, all seventeen of them, were a coming-of-age present from Portan and have become the pets I was never allowed to have when I was younger. Affections for lesser beings will become a weakness that is used against you. Father said.

  The geese make a racket as they skitter over to the bread.

  Invier places his palms on either side of my face. “Are you sure nobody knew about Loic’s allergy?”

  “Why? Who’d want Loic dead? He’s annoying but harmless.” I pause, remembering he’s gone then add, “he was annoying but harmless.”

  An apologetic smile warms his features. “I’m learning things aren’t as they seem with the others. People who I thought were close are much colder to each other than I expected.”

  “That’s because they’re in a competition to improve their family’s ranking. The prospect of becoming Paladin is enough to pit even siblings against one another.”

  “Well, then anyone of them could have wanted him dead.” He looks past me. “For instance, I found out that Mehrdad beat a servant to death and hurt his own brother. That guy is savage.”

  “Don’t worry about Mehrdad, he wa
nts to win. He wouldn’t touch you for fear of violating the rules. I promise.”

  “I think he’s too dangerous to be here.”

  I know the smile on my face is one of pity but it can’t be helped. Poor Invier. It must be hard for him to learn the world isn’t as straightforward as he fancies it. I’ve always liked the combination of innocence and knowledge that he embodies, but the former will not serve him well in this competition. If I shared half the secrets I’d learned about various people, he’d be shaken to his core.

  “Yes, people’s behavior and choices aren’t quite black or white.” Rising to my tip toes, I plant another kiss on his lips. “Focus on winning, sweets.”

  He gets serious again, brows crumpling. “Listen, I’m going to play by the rules, but I’m not sure the others will.” He walks over to the water edge and pulls up a blood red Drummond Phlox wildflower and its petals stain his fingers. Noticing the color transfer, he wets his fingers and soon draws lazy lines through the pond, his mind elsewhere.

  “You’re doing well, Invier. You’re leading the pack.” An uneven fingernail gets caught in a tight curl while I caress his short brown hair and I carefully extract my finger so as not to snag anything. “Do your best today.”

  “We’re not taking a day off to mourn?” He jumps to his feet.

  Now, my finger draws circles in the cold water that ripple outward. Like Invier, I’d prefer a postponement out of respect to Loic and his family, but I have no choice. Father has made a decision and as the head of my family, his decision rules.

  “There will be a lot of press and people here today. Father sees that as an opportunity for our businesses. The more attention we get, the better it is for business.” I pull my finger out of the pond and wag it to get it dry. “Bel’s mom says almost all the families are sending representatives to monitor the competition. Some want to make sure participants aren’t killing each other while the rest want to be here in case things turn bloody.”

  I blow the remnants of water from my finger, watching them fly off and disappear into nothing. Historically, Pursuals were competitions to the death and that possibility must be enticing to the nomes. I’ve read of the slaughter of entire families in retaliation for the death of one scion at the hands of another. In some cases, blood feuds went on for years as a result of a Pursual. I’m not interested in any of that. Nor is Father. And that’s why Portan warned everyone at the opening ceremony that this affair would be a “’modern competition with no room for retaliation or any actions that will violate the Pact.’” My Pursual can’t become a spectacle but it is what will happen if anything else goes wrong.

  A goose waddles up to me and waits expectantly for a treat. With nothing left to give, I pat it on its white and black-speckled back.

  “You’re leading already and it’ll be hard for anyone else to beat you. Plus, you shed a positive light on your family. You Florans could do with some attention, given your rank.”

  His face wrinkles in disgust. “I don’t care about the optics, Neith.”

  “Well, you might not, but they’re still important.” My tone is harsh but it can’t be helped. Whether he likes it or not, appearances matter and it’s selfish of him to not care about me or his family members who depend on him. “Think about your sister. The better your family’s reputation, despite its low rank, the better her chances are for a pairing with a great suitor when the time comes.”

  I wait for his retort but there isn’t one. Instead, the geese float by. Maybe what I said hit home.

  Arms at his waist, he finally says, “I don’t want this competition to change me into one of them.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  His face drops into a sulk. “At the orientation the other day, I listened to some of the conversations around me. The others … their sole concern is to win. Not to be with you.” He waits for a reaction but I watch the ylang-ylang tree behind him. I’m ashamed to confess I know the participants aren’t in it for me. I’m more ashamed to let Invier know I don’t care. As long as he wins.

  He pulls me into him and my head nestles under his chin. His arms wrap around me and I relax into the feel of him. His strong chest and arms make me feel safe, even though I’m not in any danger. A surge of determination courses through me. My plan to make Invier the Paladin is going to work. No matter the cost and despite his concerns. My ear pressed to his chest, I listen to his heart. Its beat is strong and powerful. It matches mine. Together we can be powerful.

  “It can’t always be about nomes and rankings and wealth,” he murmurs. “I don’t want this competition to change who I am.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let it.” I’m not sure this is a promise I can keep, but it seems right to say it anyway. If he wins, none of his fears will matter but that leads me to wonder how I can guarantee Invier becomes the Paladin.

  A chuckle vibrates in his throat.

  “You better not,” he says and I snuggle closer to him, content to stay like this forever.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Invier

  Seth ambles into our living room as I enter the suite. He’s dressed in black slacks and a white undershirt with his insignia on it—a lined leaf. I’d recognize it anywhere because it’s on all the advertising for the many energy-related products his family sells.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  His eyes lock on me. “I didn’t even know you were out.” He takes in my apparel and carries on, “how was your run?”

  “Great,” I lift a Honeycrisp apple out of a silver bowl on the coffee table and take a bite into its white flesh. The apple is sweet and crispy. A tangy spray releases into the air and I inhale deeply. Exactly what I need. “How was your morning?”

  He walks over and examines the apples. Grabbing a Honeycrisp as well, he rubs it against his pants with vigor. “Not good. My mom’s gotten worse.”

  We sit on the sofa and I stretch my legs on the table. My silver sneakers reflect on the glass surface. I remember my family’s brief discussion about his ill mother during the opening ceremony. “What’s wrong with her?”

  Granted, I know his mother is sick yet I pose the question nevertheless. Failing to do so would suggest I’d been party to gossip about him. Plus, failing to inquire about his mother would be inconsiderate. He has proven to be a nice guy; I don’t want to be impolite.

  “She’s got an aggressive and rare cancer. There’s no cure.” He studies his apple as if wondering whether to take another bite. “She only has a month left.” His voice is now barely a whisper.

  One month to live? “Why are you here? You should be with her.”

  He sports a glum smile. “Mom doesn’t want me to miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” He bites into his apple, chewing slowly.

  “Really?”

  “She’s right in a way. There hasn’t been a Pursual in so long. And who knows, with Loic’s mysterious death, there may never be another one.” He utters a dark, joyless chuckle before taking another bite.

  I wish I could tell him what caused Loic’s death. Or that the second competition will continue as planned. Doing so would break the promise I made to Neith and require explanations I can’t give.

  “The funny thing is I don’t need to be here.”

  “Because your mom is sick? Of course, you don’t have to be here,” I say with a playful smile.

  “Nah, it’s not the only reason,” he says. “My family and the Reffours are already aligned through marriage and business. A cousin of mine married Nabo’s niece. We also do a majority of our business with the Reffours. A pairing between Scioness Neith and myself won’t add much for us.”

  Trees sway to a soft breeze beyond the window. They sit below a clear sky that hovers over grass-covered mountains in the distance. As I watch the landscape, I realize that I was wrong about something. Not all my competitors are the same. Like myself, he is here for love. Just not Neith’s love.

  “I understand the importance of honoring your mother’s wish
es,” I say. Thank goodness Mom isn’t here. She’d immediately ask why I don’t endeavor to honor her wishes and why I don’t care more about doing my part to keep the family from sliding out of the Twenty.

  As if on cue, my face bends into a frown at the brief thought of the Twenty and its array of complex relationships. Given our low-standing, my family is of little relevance in the alliance dance that the nomes engage in. Still, as Mom has pointed out repeatedly, that doesn’t change the significance of such connections. I shut my eyes and an image plays. It’s of my mom, hands on hips and eyes flashing, preaching about how alliances ensure continued financial and business advancement for those who work together.

  The more I think about it, this Pursual is a fancy audition to prove that the rest of us are worthy of partnering with the Reffours. Marriage is to be a tool to cement the bonds of business and limit the acrimony that sometimes arises between families. Things shouldn’t be this way. Nevertheless, if he is correct that his family and Neith’s are already strong allies, then yes, he shouldn’t be here. Should I remind him about the Pass?