Ture was disgusted by how the League operated. “So Mari was handed over to his father’s enemies?”
The expression on Darling’s face confirmed Ture’s fears. “He was.”
And as the son of their enemy... “I take it they weren’t kind.”
“You know how I met Maris, right?”
It was one of Mari’s favorite memories. “You saved him from a bully.”
“The Ultaran prince. Crispin. I’ll admit I was scared as hell that day. It was the first time I’d ever been away from home or family, and all I wanted was for the day to end and for my dad to come get me.” Darling paused as the memory played through his mind. Even all these years later, he could see it as if it’d been yesterday.
He’d been playing tag with another boy when Crispin, who dwarfed both him and Maris, threw Maris on the ground and held him there by his hair. Maris’s eye was cut and his nose bleeding from the punches Crispin had already given him.
“You’re not so tough, are you, Phrixian? You’re nothing but a puss. Say, I’m a scared little bitch. Say it!”
A group of older boys, Crispin’s friends, were circled around them and laughing about Maris’s abuse.
“Say it, Phrixian scum!”
If Darling lived a thousand years, he’d never forget the fear he saw on Maris’s face.
Because of Darling’s father, who often attended sessions and meetings with Darling on his lap, Darling was well advanced in politics for his young age, and he’d known who Maris was and why he was at their school. Most of all, he’d known that Maris was forbidden to defend himself. If he dared fight back, a report would have been filed with the League, and Maris would have been executed for it. If not by the League or Ultarans, then by his own father.
Maris had said something in Phrixian, but Darling’s understanding of the language at that time had been as poor as Maris’s of theirs.
“What?” Crispin had shouted in his ear. “You want to suck my dick? Is that what you said, you freak?” He rose with his hand still wrapped in Maris’s hair.
Because he’d already started military training before he’d been handed over to the League, Maris had feinted to the right then reversed course. And even though he’d left a clump of bloody hair in Crispin’s hand, he’d shot across the yard with the others giving chase.
Two of the older students had tripped him as he ran past them. With a fluid grace, Maris had rolled and sprung to his feet. But no sooner had he regained his footing than Crispin slammed him against the wall and started pounding on him again.
Darling had looked at their teachers who were ignoring it. They knew Crispin’s father would only punish them if they intervened. As an emperor, he had total power over them. And since Maris’s father wouldn’t do anything to help his son, they refused to render aid and risk their own necks or jobs.
Unable to stand another minute of the cruelty, Darling had shot across the yard and slammed his body into Crispin’s, knocking him away from Maris. Blinded by fury, Darling had beat the shit out of the sniveling coward.
Twice his size and age, Crispin had cried like an infant.
“Swear to me that you won’t hit him anymore! Ever!” Darling had demanded.
“No!”
Darling had punched him, again and again, until his own knuckles were bleeding and bruised. “Swear it! Or so help me, I’ll beat you every time I see you!”
“Okay! I swear I won’t ever hit him again.”
“Not even at home!”
“Not even at home.”
Only then had Darling pulled back. Aching and winded, he’d turned around to see Maris still against the wall, staring at him as if afraid Darling would take over where Crispin had left off.
Darling had smiled at him and tried to think of something Maris would understand in Universal. “Hi, I’m Darling Cruel. We should be friends.”
Maris had frowned as he struggled to translate what Darling was saying.
So Darling had pulled his hand-sized notepad from his pocket, and downloaded a translator to say it to him in Phrixian.
Only then did Maris return his smile. He’d reached for the notepad and typed in a response. “Your services were necessary and memorized.”
It would be months before Darling understood the strangeness of that comment. Phrixians had no words for friend, gratitude or thank you.
He’d pointed to himself. “Darling.”
Maris had done the same. “MAH-ress”
From that moment forward, Darling had kept Maris close, watching his back while he taught Mari Universal and Mari taught him Phrixian well enough that they could talk to each other fluently. Those days had been so hard for Maris. Darling couldn’t even count how many times Maris had come to school with bruises and cuts from where the Ultarans had attacked him when he was on their soil.