Page 14 of Season of Naga: Volume 2
But Leira isn't here. I am. If Lurok speaks true, she now wields fire from her fingertips. She shares the Sovereign Flame’s elemental power through some mystical bond. That bond has turned my practical, skeptical sister into something even battle-hardened soldiers like Halvane and Thorne are concerned about.
A gentle knock at my door makes me start. Lina's voice filters through the wood. "Lady Serin? Your father is asking after you."
"Just finishing," I call back, proud of how steady my voice sounds despite the storm inside me. "I'll be right down."
I rise, smoothing my skirt with hands that no longer shake. In the mirror, I'm the picture of demure femininity, exactly what Father expects to see. I practice my placid smile, the one that doesn't reach my eyes but passes for politeness. I take slow, measured breaths until my racing heart steadies.
No one looking at me would guess the rebellion stirring beneath this calm exterior, or would imagine that I plan to smuggle a naga warrior through forgotten tunnels beneath Valen House. No one would suspect that timid Serin intends to journey into the heart of enemy territory to warn her sister of impending slaughter.
I lift my chin, watching my reflection harden with newfound purpose. Let them underestimate and overlook me. My silence has always been my armor, and now it will be my weapon.
"For Leira," I whisper to my reflection. "And for Lurok."
Then I turn away, open my door, and step into the hallway with measured steps that betray nothing of the fire burning inside me.
My heartbeat feels too loud in my chest, as if Father might hear it when I enter the dining room. Captain Halvane's presence makes the air itself feel dangerous. The moment is taut, like that instant before lightning strikes. I pause at the threshold. Smooth my dress. Check my reflection in the gilded mirror. Nothing betrays me—not a flush to my cheeks, or a tremble to my lips.
"Ah, there she is," Father announces without warmth when I enter. "Captain Halvane, you remember my younger daughter."
The dining room glows with candlelight, flames reflected in polished silver and crystal goblets. The long mahogany table could seat twenty, but tonight there are only three place settings clustered at one end. Father at the head, Halvane to his right, and my place across from the Captain, as if I've been positioned specifically to be studied.
Halvane rises with military precision, offering a shallow bow that never reaches his eyes. "Lady Serin. A pleasure to see you again." His scar pulls his smile into something that resembles a wolf baring its teeth.
I curtsy as expected, lowering my eyes demurely. "Captain Halvane, it's been some time." My voice sounds normal to my ears, soft and unassuming, though beneath my skin, my pulse hammers through my veins like water rushing through a breaking dam. I wonder if he can smell Lurok's blood on me despite my careful washing, if he can somehow sense the betrayal brewing beneath my placid expression.
"Please, be seated," Father says, gesturing impatiently. His attention has already shifted back to Halvane, as if my arrival was merely a brief interruption to matters of actual importance.
I slip into my chair, arranging my skirts with practiced care. A servant appears silently at my elbow, filling my wine glass with the deep ruby liquid Father favors. I thank her with a small nod, but she's already moved on.
Father raises his glass. "To continued cooperation between our forces, Captain."
Halvane lifts his own. "And to swift resolution of our mutual concerns."
Their glasses clink; mine remains untouched. The wine gleams in the candlelight, red as blood stains I scrubbed from beneath my fingernails minutes ago.
The first course arrives. A pale, creamy soup with delicate herbs floating on its surface, releasing wisps of steam that carry the scent of lemon and thyme. "I trust nothing new to report from the eastern garrison?” Father inquires as I lift my spoon, though my appetite has fled entirely.
"Aside from what we’ve already discussed," Halvane replies, stirring his own soup with methodical precision, watching herbs swirl in the creamy liquid, "I did encounter a patrol reporting missing weapons crates at the southern and western locations.”
I keep my expression neutral, though my pulse quickens. Is Leira involved? I lift my spoon. The soup cools against my lips. I take a careful sip, the creamy liquid lingering in my mouth. I swallow slowly, hiding my interest.
"Odd," he says, lifting an eyebrow. "They are certain, or simply miscounted?"
Halvane's voice drops to a lethal purr, the sound of a blade being slowly unsheathed in darkness, "The serpents have been more active since the bombing. The treaty hasn't contained them as effectively as hoped."
Father's silverware scrapes against fine china. "The treaty was never intended as a permanent solution, merely a... strategy."
I stare at my plate, fighting to keep my breathing even. The treaty, my sister's sacrifice, was nothing but a tactical move in their eyes. Not peace, not even a genuine attempt at it. Just a way to buy time while they prepared something worse.
"Speaking of strategy,” Halvane says after the main course has been served, of roast pheasant with autumn vegetables I can barely taste. "How soon after Zela has spoken, shall we carry out plan B?”
"We'll need to coordinate with our assets inside," Father says, dabbing at his lips with a linen napkin. "Ensure they're clear of the collapse zones before detonation."
Father must be referring to the worms. The naga traitors Lurok spoke of.
I spear a roasted carrot, bringing it to my lips as if I'm only interested in my dinner, not in the casual discussion of mass murder happening across the table. Inside, I'm screaming. Outside, I chew thoughtfully, my face a mask of perfect indifference.
Halvane's lip curls with distaste. "Personally, I wouldn't waste the effort. They've served their purpose."
