Taeral nodded. “Yes. We’re still discovering parts of the universe, so it would be impossible to put a number on these civilizations. Most are peaceful and welcoming. The few that aren’t eventually turn themselves around, with our help. You see, GASP evolved into a peacekeeping mission. Our goal is to ensure the survival and development of all species, where circumstances allow our involvement, of course. We don’t just strut in and change things up, and, please, rest assured, we have no intention of meddling with your forms of government.”
I wasn’t too sure about that just yet. Maybe there was some kind of living hell hiding beneath this ethereal beauty of a world. If that was the case, I was confident the locals would reach out to us, eventually. Taeral was right about one thing: we didn’t just ride in and kick people left and right with our ideas of freedom and democracy. We tried a diplomatic approach first, if we felt it necessary. However, most of the new worlds we’d discovered recently weren’t marred by turmoil or oppressive regimes like Strava, Neraka, or Eritopia had once been. In fact, they had pretty healthy ruling systems, where everyone had a voice. I only hoped the same could be said for Cerix.
So far, so good.
“So, then, what brings you here?” Inalia asked, smiling. “Following up on the Druids’ visit?”
“More or less,” Taeral replied. “We are in need of some assistance, and we were told the Cerixians might be able to help.”
“Oh. And how can we… help?” Inalia murmured, her cheeks flushed.
Taeral didn’t get to answer, as the thundering of boots up the stairs brought our budding conversation to an abrupt end. Before I could even take another breath, we were all surrounded by dozens of uniformed soldiers. They pointed weapons at us—weapons made of metal and wood, reminding me of old muskets of the civil war. Only these rifles were of a slightly different design. The kind that could deliver crippling rounds by the dozens. Some carried swords and spears. These guys did not look like they were joking around.
Their uniforms were dark brown, with golden buttons and shoulder tresses. Their glares were cold, and their jaws were locked.
“I take it this is the entertainment committee you mentioned earlier, Raphael?” Herakles muttered, as we all slowly put our hands up in a defensive gesture. We knew not to engage unless we had absolutely no other choice.
We’d yet to exhaust our options, and Taeral knew it. Despite the many muzzles aimed at us, I wasn’t as scared as I’d been on Akvo or on the Emerald. At least here we could see their faces, and we could assume the reason they were on such a sudden defensive. We were strangers in their land, after all.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Inalia snapped, the color drained from her cheeks. She was absolutely livid.
Nalyon, on the other hand, seemed relieved. He even smiled at one of the officers, who slipped between the troops, accompanied by a uniformed female, and joined Nalyon and Inalia at the front. The girl stood out. She was taller than most Cerixian females, with long, pale blond hair and ocean-blue eyes. From what I could tell, solely from the dozens of Cerixian soldiers surrounding us, dark hair and brown, orange, or red eyes were far more common features than blond hair and blue eyes.
“Orders of the high chancellor,” the male officer replied dryly, then shifted his focus to us. “Trap Mellon, senior lieutenant of the Armed Forces.”
The blue-eyed Cerixian nodded at us. She and Trap Mellon wore black uniforms. I figured brown would’ve looked horrible on her. “Eira Dorres. Lieutenant of the Armed Forces.”
“Whoa, whoa!” Inalia croaked, still shaken and infuriated. “What’s with all the weapons? This is a diplomatic encounter. These people mean us no harm!”
“So they say,” Trap replied.
“We’re not the ones brandishing what look like deadly weapons,” Raphael interjected.
The tone of his voice made my skin tingle. He wasn’t itching for a fight, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be intimidated by these weapons. He was a Perfect, and he could easily crush at least half of this squadron before they even fired their first shots.
“This is insane!” Inalia exclaimed, then scowled at Nalyon. “You didn’t mention any troops coming here!”
Nalyon chuckled. “Then you’re as naïve as you are stupid. Did you really think the high chancellor would let you, a mere nicely dressed worm from the gutters of the empire, step forward and assume control of first contact with outsiders like these? Really, Inalia?”
My stomach churned, and my fangs were itching to come out and tear his throat out. I didn’t even recognize myself, but Nalyon was making me incredibly angry with the way he treated her. Elitism was universal, it seemed.
Inalia’s fists were clenched. “I’m an ambassador of the Foreign Outreach. I didn’t buy my place in this society, like other Cerixians. I earned it. The high chancellor should’ve at least told me that there would be soldiers present.”
“Besides, if I’m honest, I’m more inclined to want to speak to her than to you,” Taeral cut in. “I don’t like your tone, Mr. Martell, and, most importantly, I don’t like the way you treat her.”
“No one asked you,” Nalyon spat.
Suddenly, I understood. Nalyon Martell was a tiny and frustrated character, plagued by an inferiority complex that nothing would ever be able to fix. If I got my Cerixian rankings correctly, the high chancellor was right under the emperor. The high chancellor’s assistant was most likely the third most powerful position in the land, yet Nalyon here seemed horribly insecure—because only a petty and weak worm would treat Inalia the way he did, in front of complete strangers. Only a slithering coward would demean others in order to assert his superiority.
“Mr. Martell, have you spoken to these people yet?” Trap Mellon intervened.
Eira Dorres’s gaze bounced between Inalia and Taeral, though I had no idea what she was thinking. She wore a firm expression, nearly impossible to read. Her steely resolve would’ve been great for me to emulate someday.
“I have,” Nalyon replied.
“We’ve already introduced ourselves,” Taeral said, keeping his chin high. “We were just about to explain that we’re in need of assistance, but it would be much easier for us to cooperate if you put your weapons down. As my colleague said, please observe that we haven’t drawn ours.”
“That’s for me to decide,” Trap shot back.
Eira shot Inalia a cold glance. “You should’ve seen this coming. The high chancellor never would’ve let you do this on your own.”
“I figured that’s why he sent his lapdog,” Inalia grumbled, scowling at Nalyon.
Wow, there were some complicated politics at play here. Frankly, I was beginning to experience a new emotion: irritation. We’d been hunted and attacked twice already. We’d run for our lives. We’d fought back. All of that while looking for the damn truth behind the deaths of innocent fae.
I was getting really tired of having weapons and abilities pointed at us. I was sick of switching to combat mode every other five minutes. And it took a hell of a lot of self-control not to let the dark side of me out. I was half Novalik, after all. I could take some of these soldiers down in seconds.
For a moment, I thought that maybe I should’ve stayed at home, in The Shade. But who was I kidding? I was the only one who could tell the others on my team who to hit first, if push came to shove. I’d already identified and understood the soldiers’ movements and military grades. I’d already calculated all possible attack angles in the back of my head. And, most importantly, I’d already dodged death twice today.
If the Cerixians were going to make things hard for me, I was more than willing to make things hard for them. The bloody way. A second later, my cheeks burned—if only my parents could see and hear me now. Mom would be gasping, and Dad would be grinning…
Inalia
There were no words to describe the shame that was raging through me like an out-of-control wildfire. I could feel it burning everything down to a crisp, and I feared it would translate into physical danger toward everyone around me, unless I got a grip on it. My feelings often influenced my ability to reason, and, had it not been for my mother’s teachings, I never would’ve become an ambassador because of it. My fingers twitched, red hot to the touch.
Deep breaths, Inalia. Deep, deep breaths.
Nalyon was a massive thorn in my side already. I didn’t need Trap and Eira, too. It was as if the high chancellor had had me assigned to this encounter solely for the purpose of embarrassing me. Maybe he knew more about me than he’d let on. What if this was his attempt at bringing out the worst in me? What if this moment was the rope he was giving me to hang myself with?
