Destined by Viola Grace Page A

that Rhoda had sketched ten years earlier. This man was Pansy’s destiny, and Rhoda was glad that she was here to see the initial introduction. It took a weight off her mind that her sister was going to be with the man she could love and who could love her in return.
    Destiny wasn’t always so kind.
     
    * * * *
     
    Six years later.
    Jemyalli looked deep into Rhoda’s eyes. “Please? I am begging you. We need an artistic kiosk at the gala to get the donations. Please? You only need to do sketches, and the centre will not allow anyone to press charges.”
    Rhoda looked away from her friend’s red eyes. “How can you be sure of that?”
    “They have to sign a waiver before they can enter the gala. There are a few other kiosks that could be dangerous.”
    Rhoda looked around at all the canvases that she had waiting in various stages of completion. Portraits were how she made her living on Yacaro, an Earth-style planet in the Nyal Imperium. It was a fairly good living too, she had her own home, an attached studio and plenty of time to spend with friends.
    The problem with friends was that now and then, they wanted favours.
    “Fine. I will do it. Only sketches, no commissions.”
    “Whatever you say. Give me a list of supplies and furnishings, and it will be there. You know that it is formal?”
    “It is a gala at the art centre. Of course it is formal.” Rhoda smiled and scrubbed her hands. “What you are really saying is that you want to make sure I am dressed appropriately.”
    “Something like that. If you don’t have something proper, I will arrange an emergency delivery for you.” Jemyalli grinned.
    Sighing, Rhoda took her friend to the wardrobe, and she swung it wide. “I have to box up a portrait for Lord Aythingar. You can just pull anything that you find suitable, and I will put it on. Make sure the sleeves won’t drag on the drawings though.”
    Jemyalli smiled. “You have trust in me.”
    “I do. I also know that you don’t want me looking like a fool. I trust your judgement.” She returned to her studio and started to box up the portrait that would have made her exceedingly uneasy back on Earth. Lord Aythingar was standing and his wife was kneeling at his feet, a jewelled mask covering both eyes and sloping down on her cheeks. For a human, it would be a degrading posture, but for a Nyal, it meant that his woman was in heat and the mating mask was being employed for the wedding night.
    Societal differences were slightly skewed in a society where the women went into heat and the men bid on the right to be theirs. It had taken Rhoda three years, but she was finally used to what the Nyal considered normal.
    It was a far cry from church picnics, but it worked for them, so she wasn’t going to sneer at their practices. As she slipped the portrait into the custom case that she had had made for her canvases, she looked toward the other room. Jemyalli had one year left before she would end up mated to some man she barely knew. Rhoda had offered time and again to do a portrait so that her friend would be aware of what her mate looked like when she saw him, but Jemyalli didn’t want to know quite yet.
    When Jem went into heat, she would be auctioned off to the highest bidder and that money would become hers after a percentage went to the auction house. To have to face down her purchaser knowing that he was the one she was destined to be with might skew her reactions. She wasn’t willing to risk it, and Rhoda respected that.
    Humming to herself, she nailed the crate shut and addressed the label for delivery. His lordship was sending a courier, but it never hurt to put a mark on the work, just in case.
    “I have it!” Jemyalli came out of the bedroom with fabric draped over her arm. “This is perfect and ever so sexy. If they don’t stop for the drawing, they will definitely stop to flirt.”
    Rhoda groaned. “Jem, you know I am not hunting for a man. I have had a few since I left Earth and none of