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He couldn’t forget that this was what his mother wanted.
The reminder made his stomach sink as he very deliberately took a step back. Sandy watched him go, curiosity rather than hurt crossing her face.
Some of what he had been thinking must have shown, because she didn’t have any trouble guessing where his thoughts had just gone. But she didn’t seem upset. Just curious, her head cocking to the side as she watched him.
“Why does your mother want you mated?”
“It’s just another avenue of control.”
Sandy chuckled once. “She can’t control me.”
“I meant for me,” he corrected sadly. “And she can control you.”
Sandy’s brow cocked up. A silent expression of disbelief.
“You remember the tribunal that Drevor mentioned?”
“Vaguely.”
“It’s a mandatory transition to adulthood for my people. For the telfay, it’s not enough to merely attain adulthood through age, you have to prove your capability to handle responsibility. You have to be granted legal adulthood.”
“Okay,” she said in a way that wasn’t just a statement but bordered on being a question.
“It’s usually easy to pass. The majority of people do. But not everyone. If it can be proven that you aren’t capable of taking care of yourself on your own, your nearest relative is granted adult guardianship over you.”
Sandy made a face. “Who? You? Because we aren’t mated yet.”
“No. Not me. My… mother,” he admitted unhappily.
“We aren’t mated yet,” she said again. “And I’m a legal adult by human standards. I don’t need a tribunal to grant me that.”
“You do on Levtiram. And that is true whether you are natural born or an immigrant,” he said even as she opened her mouth to protest again.
She frowned thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging her shoulders again. “Aw, well. Cross that bridge when we get to it, I suppose.”
Rane frowned. He wished he could share her flippant attitude, but he didn’t think she appreciated just how difficult their position truly was.
***
Woosh!
Tarou’s fist barely missed slamming into Rane’s face.
Rane grabbed his wrist, used his momentum to swing around, planted his foot in his back, then used him to kick off, hand reaching out. Louve saw his opening and threw the ball. Rane caught it, curled around it in the air, twisted, then shot off towards the goal at the top of the court, the three beaters on his tail, Louve and Arus defending his run.
They were fast, but he was better. He tracked, without looking, the sound of their boots and gauntlets telling him where they must be. How fast they were closing in on him. The speed settings on the devices were limited by gameplay rules, but individual skill determined how fast you actually traveled through a combination of movement and planning.
He listened. Eyes trained on the goal. Senses pricked.
He knew the exact moment Cole caught up to him and he twisted in the air again. The corkscrew move was a trademark of his and required perfect timing and dexterity, but when pulled off correctly, it was flawless and awesome to watch. He dropped and twisted, evading Cole’s arm reaching for his ankle. He grabbed his arm, pushed him down, flipped over, put his feet on his back, and jumped off.
Cole grunted as he was thrown down, skin burned from the hover tech on the boots, but not hurt too badly. The move separated them and gave Rane enough of a boost to rush through the air, closing the distance, until he was close enough to throw-
DING!
The ball sailed up through the goal, which lit up indicating the successful passing. Rane threw up his fist, laughing at the success. The thrill of a perfect run, a perfect goal, rushing through him as he did a brief victory flip.
He came out of it grinning, looking down to see his team all gathered below, staring up at him with widened, surprised eyes.
