There was no security on the air-car, no alarms
or locks on the dock. Only someone with a death-wish would take an air-car up
before the winter storms had passed, so no alarms went off when Ke’Jor set
about hitting the control panel.
"You don't want to do that," M'kar
blurted, when the vehicle rumbled into life far too easily.
Uncle Ashreel would rage if Ke’Jor flew his new air-car
before he did.
"If you sit with me, I’ll take you anywhere
you want to go." Ke’Jor patted the bench seat next to him.
"I don’t want to go anywhere with you. Ever,"
M'kar snapped.
A loud rumble of thunder answered her words,
followed by a wailing shriek of wind that swirled around their heads and filled
the air with clouds of gritty dust.
"You're supposed to be nice to me." How
did he talk clearly with his lower lip sticking out like that?
"Laws of hospitality don't count when you
weren't invited."
"I mean when we get married."
"I am never marrying you!"
"Grandfather says you have to."
"Your grandfather can't make me do anything!" She stomped up to the pilot's seat, intending to punch him.
He reached for her. She flung herself backward, kicking up with both feet in a one-two swing that would have made her father proud. The toes of both her shoes slammed into Ke’Jor's chest and chin before her back hit the deck of the air-car. She hadn’t mastered the somersault part of the maneuver yet.
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