LITMIR.BIZ

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closed his eyes in despair. “Please, not this again.”

      “I only want what’s best for you—”

      A loud sigh interrupted her. “Shalina, please, for the sake of the boy’s sanity, can we stop throwing eligible brides at him?”

      Harto couldn’t help but grin at his mother’s brother, Lieutenant Commander Peras Nell. He had been a father figure to Harto after Lord Flay had passed away many years ago while in service to Malaquey Naval Intelligence.

      “Welcome back, Uncle Peras.” The two men hugged while Shalina took a sip from her wine glass.

      “How was your trip?”

      Peras sighed. “Boring and not very productive.”

      “Gentlemen,” interrupted Shalina. “Can we talk shop later? I’m starving as we stand.” She led the way to the smaller dining hall for family.

      There was no time for conversation as the servants brought out the lavish spread. The starter was a small bowl of spicy tomato soup, and the main was fried sea bass with delicious crispy skin on a bed of fluffy white rice surrounded by a tangy mushroom sauce that went perfectly with the sea bass.

      “The meal was lovely as usual, Valhar. Please extend our compliments to the cooks,” said Shalina.

      Next was the dessert: a Namiran dessert of coffee cake with a generous dollop of rich whipped cream. The servants withdrew from the dining hall after serving it. They had been there long enough to know when their presence wasn’t needed—or wanted. By the time Harto finished his portion, he felt as stuffed as a roasted fowl and as heavy as a log.

      “I need to stop eating like this,” he groaned.

      Peras smiled. “Why didn’t you pass your dessert to me? I had such horrible food while I was away.”

      “Sorry, uncle, but that dessert was to die for.”

      “So, what was the purpose of your trip this time?” asked Shalina. Her eyes were serious; Harto knew this was a side of her she never showed the outside world.

      Peras’s smile slid off his face. “Two of our people didn’t report in.”

      Harto and his mother went still.

      “It’s possible they’re dead.”

      Shalina leaned back from the table looking exhausted and haunted.

      Harto felt like throwing up. “There’s no way we can verify if…if she has them?”

      “If she does, or did, I hope they’re dead by now,” replied Peras gravely. He pushed his empty dessert dish away.

      “So, what happens now?” asked Shalina.

      “Harto and I will discuss it with the minister of intelligence, but I believe they’re reluctant to risk sending any more agents to Namira. Too many have been caught, and none have made it back alive.” Peras rubbed his face wearily. Harto noticed the grey hairs that were increasing in number in his uncle’s once night-black hair.

      “I saw Novice Britea D’Tranell in the market today. She wasn’t alone.”

      “Who was with her?” asked Shalina.

      “What were they doing?” asked Peras at the same time.

      “Apparently, they’d been shopping. Britea was with a Weltonian girl by the name of Danai Riverun, and get this: Danai has been in training at Syla College for the past four years, and she’s a tier-five wielder.”

      Both Shalina and Peras shared a puzzled look. “You’re sure she’s Weltonian?” asked Shalina.

      “Absolutely. She confirmed it. Uncle, you didn’t know about this?”

      Peras wore a disturbed expression. “No…no, I didn’t. That doesn’t make sense. The last Weltonian students I know of were those who created the college eight hundred years ago. Why would one join now after all this time?”

      “Why didn’t Headmaster Clayre report this to Malaquey intelligence?” asked Harto.

      Shalina snorted as she poured a generous amount of wine into her glass. “And why should he? It’s not as if he’s hiding her now, is it? One Weltonian joins the college for the first time in eight hundred years. So what? Besides, it’s wielder business, and we know how well they handle their affairs. Just recall what they did to my Namira.” She took a big gulp of wine. Peras and Harto shared a worried look. This was her fourth glass this evening.

      “Mother…” began Harto tentatively.

      She held up a hand, stopping him. “I know.”

      He fell silent. She reluctantly let go of the glass of wine and stood up. The men stood as well. “Stay and talk my boys; I will be going to bed. It’s been a long day.”

      Harto kissed her on the cheeks, as did her brother. They waited until she had left the room before taking up the conversation again.

      “I wonder if we made a mistake telling her about the missions,” said Peras.

      Harto shook his head. “We didn’t. Namira is her home. She may not be an agent in the field, but she’s a fighter, just like us.” He clenched his fists in frustration.

      “Why won’t Malaquey do more against that witch queen? Why won’t they help us?!”

      Peras gave his nephew a stern look. “King Wilhem gave thousands of us shelter when he didn’t have to in addition to protecting us and letting us become part of the Naval Intelligence Agency. Many of his lords argued against it, but he convinced them.”

      “I know but—”

      “But nothing!” snarled Peras, frightening Harto. “It’s because of King Wilhem that your mother and you can live in this fine house with specially trained Namiran servants and guards, and yet you’re ungrateful?!”

      Harto looked down, full of shame. “I’m sorry, uncle.”

      Peras sighed and then clamped a reassuring hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I apologize for my outburst, my lord.”

      Harto shot his uncle a stunned look. “Please…please don’t call me that.”

      Peras smiled sadly at him. “Someday, you will reclaim what’s rightfully yours. But in the meantime, you need to be patient.” The older man stood wearily.

      “We both need to sleep. We have an early start tomorrow.”

      “Yes, uncle.” Yet after Peras left, Harto sat alone for a long time, thinking of a homeland he had never seen.

      CHAPTER 8

      Malie’s one remaining good eye snapped open. Something was about to happen. He didn’t have long to wait before the doors opened and several humans walked in. His scales trembled in fear and rage as he recognized their uniforms: violet tunics, wine-colored pants, and flowing, hooded black capes with blood-red edgings.

      Her Specialists.

      Malie had watched them experiment on his broodmates when they had outlived their usefulness. The queen and her Specialists had been the cause of their deaths.

      He wondered if today he was going to join his siblings.

      The sea serpent kept still as the queen descended the stairs. Her purple-clad guards knelt and bowed their covered heads as she passed them. She reached the white stone altar, then turned and raised her right hand.

      “Reveal yourselves, my children.”

      The kneeling Specialists pushed back their hoods but remained kneeling.

      Queen Kallesa’s smile broadened when she saw the hunger on their faces. “Today, is a special day, my children. Today, I grant you another taste of what awaits us all. Bring in the captives.”

      Malie

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