She watched the emperor and his group make their way along the line toward Cade, whom they seemed to ignore. Apart from Prince Rohn, who slammed a shoulder into Cade, making him stumble to the side as he turned to follow his cousin.
Her breath caught in her throat at the unfairness of it, and she was already half out of her seat to complain, but all Cade did was straighten up and return to his place in the line. What the fuck was it with that prince? Why didn’t he like Cade? In fact, why did most of them ignore him?
Risyn B’Kaar turned away from the VIP group as the emperor and his senior warriors took their places in line with the others. They were dressed in a similar manner. Every single one of them was stripped to the waist, their uniform jackets gone, and most of them had the long hair and braids she had come to associate with the aliens.
“Thank you for joining us today,” Risyn B’Kaar stood to the side of the assembled lines of warriors, his voice pitched to carry to the corners of the gymnasium. “We thought, since you were good enough to invite us here, we should share some of the elements of our culture with you. As you are no doubt aware, Latharian culture is warrior based. All of our males train daily, and the heart of that is the diraanesh, a warrior's personal training routine. It is used for general body conditioning and strength training. Each clan has a slightly different variation developed due to clan specializations.”
He turned slightly, nodding to his second, Berrick B’Kaar. The big, bearded warrior walked out into the central circle as Risyn continued talking. “For example, the B’Kaar diraanesh trains our warriors in mental clarity and focus as well as stretching and conditioning…”
The crowd assembled in the gymnasium gasped as Berrick B’Kaar began to move. It didn’t seem possible that such a big man could move so gracefully, his movements almost dancelike and elegant as he transitioned through something that looked similar to a yoga sequence.
His expression was taut and utterly focused, all of his muscles flexing as he moved, using every inch of the circle but never going over the line. He sped up but somehow retained the fluid grace throughout combinations of kicks and punches against an imaginary opponent. It was blazing fast yet seemed graceful and ethereal all at the same time.
Elise frowned, not fooled by the physical movement. She was fairly sure from his expression that Berrick had slipped into some type of meditation as soon as he’d begun to move. He finished his routine with a flourish, gave Risyn a sharp nod, and then turned and left the circle, rejoining the ranks of the assembled warriors.
“In comparison,” Risyn spoke once more, “the K’Saan diraanesh is an example of a more general ground troop routine.”
When he nodded, the emperor and the prince stepped forward, taking their places in two of the circles.
She found herself sitting forward as they saluted their audience and then snapped into movement. It was fast, furious, and both men were utterly focused. Their bodies moved, muscles bunched and flexing as their hair spun around them like dark cloaks, the light glinting from the beads hidden within.
She’d never seen such big men move so quickly. The audience grew silent, and she easily read the mood of the crowd around her. If this was their daily basic training… humanity was fucked. Well, that was the mood of the men anyway. Most of the women just wanted to climb them like trees.
She exhaled on a sigh as the two Latharian royals finish their routine and returned to the ranks. Before Risyn could speak again, the ambassador stalked forward, and the crowd around Elise murmured a little in discontent. The brutal scars that covered his body made most people uncomfortable. Not her. She’d seen worse.
“The Izaean,” Risyn said, “while not an actual clan, have their own variant, particularly suited to controlling and managing their impulses.”
Almost before he’d finished speaking, the scarred warrior burst into movement. Unlike the others, he did not bow or salute to stop the routine. Instead, he bellowed a battle cry and attacked an enemy none of them could see. From what she’d observed of the Izaean ambassador, he was a quiet, self-contained man. Now she realized that impression had been completely incorrect.
His movements were filled with rage, each blazing fast fight combination accompanied by a roared battle cry. It was like he let go of his control completely when he fought. No wonder they were referred to as berserkers. It looked like they had genetic-level anger-management issues. When he was done, he simply stalked out of the circle. No final movement. No salute.
“And finally we have the Vorr.”
Elise sat up straighter in her seat. Cade was Vorr. Did that mean he was going to display next?
“As far as we are aware,” Risyn said as Cade stalked forward to take his place in the central circle. “The Vorr’s routine has not changed since the founding of the empire. It is the oldest known example of the diraanesh and differs significantly from more modern versions. The clan itself is seen as a little… archaic in its practices.”
Even though Risyn’s voice was steady and controlled, Elise was a master at reading undertone and subtext. Once upon a time her and Cam’s lives had depended on it, and she had never let the skill atrophy. In the B’Kaar leader's tone, she picked up what sounded like contempt. For Cade. For the Vorr. But that didn’t make sense. The Vorr were part of the empire. Weren’t they?
If Cade himself heard it, he didn’t let it show on his face. Instead, he simply stood in the middle of the circle, his body language relaxed as he looked straight ahead. Last night, at the club and among humans, he’d seemed infinitely more dangerous and lethal. But right now, against the backdrop of other Lathar warriors, he looked far younger. His body was lean and toned, with more of the gangliness of youth than the heavyset battle-scarred musculature of some of the older warriors.
She swallowed, feeling guilty. Shit, she was way too old for him.
For a moment she didn’t think he was going to move, but then the whole set of his body changed somehow. He didn’t move, but in the blink of an eye he went from a gangly-looking young warrior to something else entirely. Something that made all her survival instincts sit up and take notice. Her skin itched, a cold chill shivering down her spine as his gaze swept over the assembled humans. Within the space of the heartbeat, she went from a participant in an audience to feeling like prey.
The crowd around her fell silent, and she felt more than heard their collective intake of breath as each and every person present felt the need to run and hide. Then he started to move. Like the first sequence, it was more graceful and combative. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, finding herself captivated by his sinuous movements.
She would have likened it to exotic dancing from several ancient religions, but most of those dancers had been female and there was nothing feminine about his movements. He was all virility and masculinity, calling to her. All she had to do was slide off her seat and approach him. Walk into his arms and recapture the pleasure that had been interrupted last night.
Her legs tensed and she was already half out of the seat when his movements changed again. He surged forward, only stopping at the edge of the circle like he’d slammed into a wall. There were three screams, and someone fainted, the dull thud evidence of a larger body hitting the floor. Cade twisted away from them, his movements taken into the other side of the circle. Now his gaze wasn’t on her, she analyzed the movements and suddenly… there it was.