Sacred Planet: Book One of the Dominion Series Read Online Free PDF Page B

went between the radius and ulna, not breaking any bones. Guarin would have to do that himself if he wanted to escape. But he wouldn’t. Not in time.
    The laser wall closed in. Kastor stepped toward the center, leaving his sword sunk a foot into the ground and Guarin’s forearm as a lovely ornament. He waited, watching his foe cringe in agony and aggravation. Inside, as he caught his breath, the realization welled in Kastor that he had won.
    Every lord, lady, courtier, and general in the Sagittarian Regnum had watched him climb to victory in the Grand Lumis’s tournament. He had conquered every taker on this quaky, molten planet. In this massive arena, he knew only victory. Only laurels. Only glory.
    He claimed the glory of his birthright.
    The laser wall crept to Guarin’s boots, and he kicked to reposition himself, as if keeping his body inside the laser wall counted for anything. It didn’t. All that mattered was the titanium band bearing the insignia of Swan. Guarin gripped the blunt side of the katana, yanking futilely. A laugh escaped Kastor from deep in his gut.
    “Damn you, Kastor!” Guarin shouted in the rich baritone of a young nobleman.
    The wall passed him, and his Swan band blinked and beeped wildly. Kastor threw his fists into the air as the laser wall dissipated. Every muscle in his body flexed, fueled by blood and power. The nobles’ hovercraft whooshed closer as a mighty cheer erupted through the thick atmosphere. Camera drones zipped around him, filming from a half dozen angles. A medical craft landed for Guarin, and the nobles touched down and walked across the sooty ground in their fine garb to congratulate Kastor. He accepted their praises with open arms and an unyielding smile, pride bursting in his chest, a moment of pure, unstained glory.
    The Grand Lumis had a new champion.

Chapter Nine
    Gilded columns rose to a barrel-vaulted ceiling over the walkway. Kastor strolled through the open-air corridor in the middle of the vast Diamond Castle, where the Grand Lumis resided with his queen. To one side, a spire of melded carbon steel and diamond, the queen’s chambers, loomed high in the sky. On the other, another great tower, several descending spires flanking it, displayed the greatness of the Lumis and his Regnum.
    Fifty meters overhead, ripples of glass spanned the atrium, connected to each of the giant square’s diamond walls. The enclosure allowed for a slight breeze, playing with the tail of Kastor’s gentry robe. He hated the stiff regalia and high collar of lordly attire, but he had to look the part. Even champions put away their weapons long enough to cavort at parties and get blitzed on fine wine and brandy, the thought of which irritated him. Of all his years at the academy, he could not recall a single instance when his instructors taught him how to schmooze—although the part about drinking wine and brandy came naturally enough.
    He paused at a stand of polished chrome and poured deep purple wine into a diamond goblet—almost everything on castle grounds was made of the stuff. A poised, clean-cut footman saw Kastor and approached swiftly, not breaking his rigid posture.
    “May I assist you, master?” His voice carried more dignity than that of most noblemen.
    The “ master ” bit felt odd, but Kastor could get used to it. He could also get used to being waited upon, and by a man older than him no less. The footman’s eyes remained attentive, jawline perfectly parallel with the ground. His crisp, black-and-silver livery cut precisely across his shoulders and neck.
    “No,” Kastor said, restraining a grin. Respect felt good. “Oh, wait. Yes. Something to eat. Something small.”
    “Any preference, master?” the footman replied.
    Kastor sipped wine as he pondered his mood: Proud. Exultant. Distinguished. Wily. “Your finest fish. Off-world, obviously. Nothing from a farm. Thin slices, smoked and seasoned.”
    The footman’s eyes widened, but he dipped his head anyway.