“I’m pleased to know your virtue is so well guarded,” he replied, if somewhat stiffly for being refused. “My queen must be untouched.”

Oh, Stars, not another would-be suitor. Shanelle walked away, Corth right behind her.

“Forget it, doll,” Martha said soothingly, to remind Shanelle she wasn’t alone. “You were only mildly interested in that one.”

“I know.”

“Besides, when they know who you are, there’s always the possibility that your family’s wealth might be motivating them, or the prestige of being connected to a powerful shodan.”

“I’m aware of that, Martha.”

“Not that those reasons matter once they get their first look at you and see that you are the true treasure.”

“What program are you running?” Shanelle demanded irritably. “Bolster-the-flagging-spirits?”

“You always get depressed over this subject for no good reason,” Martha complained.

“I’m no different than any other Kan-is-Tran woman, golden from head to foot. There isn’t anything unusual about me, Martha, to call for all that ridiculous flattery that comes out once men know who I am.”

“Then you haven’t looked in a mirror lately.”

“Oh, real cute. But you don’t hear warriors dumping out all that garbage.”

“No, they just give you the sincerest form of flattery every time they’re around you. Take a look behind you if you think I’m pulling your leg.” Shanelle did, and found all four warriors following her with their eyes. “Want me to tell you what they’re thinking?” Martha added.

Shanelle blushed. “No.”

“Are you going to tell me you didn’t know they all want you, that just about every one of them has already asked your father for you?”

“You’re putting me into a really foul mood for my homecoming, Martha,” Shanelle growled. “I don’t want a warrior. I want love. I want to be able to stand on an equal footing at least some of the time with my future lifemate. I want what my mother has.”

In a soft, gloating voice Martha made her point. “What your mother has is a warrior.”

What your mother has is a warrior. Martha left Shanelle alone as they traveled the long winding road leading up to Sha-Ka-Ra, but those words wouldn’t. What your mother has is a warrior.

Well, no one could deny it, and that particular warrior happened to love. But he was the sole exception. Only Tedra didn’t think so.

“It’s a fallacy,” she had once told Shanelle, “that warriors don’t feel love. They just think they don’t. It’s that damn calmness they pride themselves on, a warrior’s control. And they certainly have that. They never shout, never argue, never get upset the way normal people do. It’s like they have no feelings at all-but you know they do. You see the humor, the caring, even the anger if you know what to look for. Your father wouldn’t admit it until he thought I was dying, and that tore him up. He cried, Shani. He shouted to the heavens. He knew right then that he loved, and so did I.”

That supposition was easy for Tedra to make. She had a warrior who admitted he loved her. But no other warrior would admit it. Even Challen’s friend Tamiron, who cared deeply for his lifemate, staunchly maintained that warriors didn’t feel the strong emotions their women did. Shanelle’s own brother said the same thing. “Women experience love, warriors do not. Warriors give protection and caring, no more, no less.” She’d thrown a pillow at him. He hadn’t even raised a brow.

She hated their calm. And it stood to reason that anyone that calm couldn’t experience anything as wildly passionate as love. Was she supposed to put a warrior through hell to shake him loose from that calm? And even if she could, would that do any good?

No, Tedra was wrong in this instance, and Martha wasn’t helping matters by siding with Tedra as she always did and pushing Shanelle in the wrong direction. Martha meant well, of course. She knew Tedra would be hurt if Shanelle moved off-planet permanently, and so Martha would do anything to prevent that. But Shanelle wasn’t going to beat her head against a wall trying to squeeze a few drops of emotion out of a man. It didn’t matter that she loved the look of warriors, that she could think of a half dozen right now whom she could probably come to love if she let herself. She wasn’t even going to try. She was going to put her energy into finding a man with normal emotions, one who would love her and admit it, and one who did not know beforehand who she was. But she had so little time…

“If you don’t get out of those dumps you’ve slumped into, your mother’s going to think I’ve been browbeating you and pull my plug.” Martha’s voice drifted into her thoughts.

“Well, haven’t you?” Shanelle said somewhat resentfully.

“Not even a little. It’s called pearly-gems-of-wisdom. Browbeating is when I pull out the big guns and mention probables for the future, like a family devastated, a daughter who can’t come home because she defied her father, a mother never forgiving her lifemate because her daughter can’t come home, a father who-”

“I’m going to pull your plug, you miserable loose-screw!” Shanelle hissed.

“That’s my girl,” Martha crowed. “Put some color back in those cheeks, and none too soon, or haven’t you noticed where you are?”

Shanelle hadn’t, and where they were was in the city already, with the park just up ahead. It no longer looked like a park, however. Covering the smooth green lawns were pavilions and tents of every color and size, and arenas roped off and crowded around by spectators watching the competitors test their skills against one another. Merchants of the city had set up stalls for food and drink; hataari were corralled everywhere. And Shanelle saw more warriors than she had ever seen gathered in one place before-and more visitors.

It was so unusual seeing hair and eye colors other than shades of golden-to-brown in her city. Every other color imaginable was here now, making visitors easy to spot, even though the males had gotten into the spirit of local competition by donning the black zaalskin bracs of the Kan-is-Tran warriors,- at least those who were competing in the arenas did, some even wearing swords.

Shanelle glanced back to see how her friends were holding up, and couldn’t blame them for all looking a bit apprehensive. To the Kystrani, warriors were considered giants. The average warrior was a little more than six and a half feet tall, some reached seven feet, some even more, and here were hundreds of them milling about, bare-chested, all muscle and brawn.

Caris and Cira were probably having second thoughts about sex-sharing right now. Shanelle wasn’t. She was seeing a great many visitors who actually had the look of a warrior about them, maybe not so tall, but definitely well made.

“It didn’t take long for your interest to start perking.” Martha chuckled. “All those bare chests, huh?”

“My mood has improved, and I can see my father’s pavilion already, so do us both a favor and forget you have a voice, Martha.”

Blissful silence, until another voice was heard from at her back. “The Martha’s feelings have been hurt.”

Shanelle snorted. “You’re way off the mark, Corth. The Martha is sitting back gloating because she’s got my life all mapped out and I haven’t made any detours yet.” And Shanelle wasn’t going to say a single word to the contrary when Martha was listening to every word and monitoring her emotions with the Rover’s scanning sensors.

“Your mother has seen you,” Corth said next.

“Where is she?” But Shanelle saw her almost immediately, a flash of blue running through the crowds toward her. “Oh, Stars, I think I’m going to cry,” she whispered as she slid off the hataar.

“Shanelle, wait!” Corth ordered.