Page 6 of Naga General's Mate

She should leave. Nothing good ever came from overhearing Kurg’s private conversations. But something in their tense postures, the way they kept glancing over their shoulders, held her in place.

Chapter 3

Mila

Mila pressed her crouchedbody against the curtained wall, her cleaning rag forgotten in her tight grip. The shadows wrapped around her like a protective cloak as Kurg’s cologne wafted through the air, making her nose twitch.

“The transfers need to be smaller,” the council member’s assistant whispered. “The council’s accountants are suspicious.”

“Those paper-pushing idiots wouldn’t know embezzlement if it bit them in the ass.” Kurg’s gravelly laugh sent a shiver down Mila’s spine. “Besides, I’ve got three of them on my payroll.”

“Still, fifty thousand credits at once is too noticeable.”

“Fine. Break it into five transfers of ten each. Route them through the mining operations on sector four.”

Mila’s heart hammered against her chest. The Council of Seven controlled everything on Jorvla, including the slave trade that kept her and Priscilla in chains. If Kurg was stealing from them…

“And the documentation?” The assistant’s boots scraped against the floor.

“Already taken care of. The manifests show equipment purchases for the mines. No one questions mining equipment costs these days.”

“Smart. But what about—”

“Shh.” Kurg’s voice dropped lower. “These walls have ears.”

Mila held her breath, willing herself to become one with the shadows. Her muscles screamed from staying perfectly still, but she didn’t dare move. One wrong shift of weight, one tiny sound, and she’d be discovered.

“Let’s continue this in my office,” Kurg said. “More private there.”

Their footsteps faded down the corridor. Only when silence returned did Mila allow herself to breathe again.

Mila’s mind raced. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and possibility. The weight of the information she’d overheard pressed down on her like the heavy chains that bound her to this life. Kurg, the Jorvlen who held her and her sister’s lives in his meaty hands, was embezzling from the most powerful entity on Jorvla. The implications of such a revelation made her dizzy.

If she found a way to expose Kurg’s schemes, perhaps the council would see fit to grant her freedom.

“Freedom,” she whispered to herself, the word tasting both sweet and bitter on her tongue.

But the risk… was monumental. If she was caught, the punishment would be severe, and she feared what they might do to Priscilla in retaliation.

Mila closed her eyes, taking slow, measured breaths to calm her racing heart. The cool air from the alcove did little to soothe the heat of anxiety that flushed her cheeks.

“Think, Mila,” she chastised herself quietly. The names of the council members’ assistants she’d overheard during the dinner party echoed in her mind. Could she trust any of them with this information?

The sound of soft footsteps approached, and Mila quickly schooled her features into the mask of indifference she’d worn for years. She picked up her cleaning supplies and stepped out of the alcove, nearly colliding with Priscilla.

“Mila, there you are!” Priscilla’s voice was a hushed whisper of urgency. “Kurg is looking for you. He wants the main hall spotless by morning.”

Mila’s stomach clenched at the mention of Kurg’s name. “I’ll get to it right away,” she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Priscilla’s brow furrowed with concern. “Are you all right? You look flushed.”

“It’s just the heat from the kitchens,” Mila lied, avoiding her sister’s gaze. She couldn’t involve Priscilla in this. The less her sister knew, the safer she’d be.

As they walked together, Mila’s mind spun with the possibilities of what she’d learned. The thought of taking her chances and remaining silent was almost as terrifying as the thought of speaking out. But the chance to change their fate, to free not just herself but her sister as well, was a tempting siren call she couldn’t silence.

She glanced at Priscilla, her sister’s face a mixture of innocence and the hard-earned wisdom of their shared experiences. Mila knew she had to tread carefully. One wrong move could spell disaster for them both.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of polishing and sweeping, the mundane tasks providing a welcome distraction from her tumultuous thoughts. As the moon rose high in the night sky, casting long shadows through the windows of the main hall, Mila realized she stood at a crossroads. She could remain a slave, cowering in the shadows and cleaning up the messes of those more powerful, or she could take a leap of faith.

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