Amelia Thornheart-Chapter 132: Secrets and Dreams

The field of fog ebbed and churned, similar to the lumina after a passing storm. Wisps flitted upwards to form fleeting, ghost-like shapes that bounced up and down. No. That wasn’t right. It was Serena’s vision that was rhythmically moving.

She was riding a horse.

Or rather, whoever it was in this memory she was inhabiting was riding a horse. It wasn’t just her. There were others. Demonoid shapes, each holding reins, each with their own steed. Their faces were a blur, with only the faintest inclination of whether they were male or female.

Even as she thought that, the shapes became firmer, more recognisable. The memory solidified, coalescing into tangibility. Serena—or the person she was inhabiting—was riding down a trail, winding their way through thick, unfamiliar vegetation. They were moving as a convoy, progressing at a slow four-beat gait. She thought she might be at the front, for there were no riders ahead of her. Maybe there was an advance party, but she couldn’t see far enough to tell; after a few dozen metres, the fog grew too dense to make out anything further.

A carriage trailed behind them. A small transport, simple and unassuming. Unadorned with the usual flairs of nobility, it bore heavy-hewn, rugged wheels, closed wooden shutters, and was pulled by a set of four workhorses. Although the dreamworld became ever more readable by the second, the distance to the carriage and the riders around it made it difficult to discern details.

Any hope she had of evaluating the landscape and identifying any landmarks fell flat against the same problem—anything beyond a few dozen metres became too smudged to make out. Frowning, Serena forced herself to look back at the carriage, hoping to see a sigil on its walls. As she looked, a thought appeared.

Am I the one looking, or is it whoever I’m inhabiting?

Is this another one of Anathor’s memories?

“Something on your mind?” a feminine voice broke out.

It was the person closest to her, riding almost in tandem. Serena focused on the figure, and the dreamworld seemed to respond, further defining their features. The rider was a slender woman with neat clothing and small Cerulean horns. Serena didn’t recognise her face, but she felt a deep sense of familiarity dwell within herself.

“Maybe I should check again,” Serena replied.

“Let her rest. She needs her sleep,” the woman said, waving a dismissive hand wrapped in a fine riding glove. “She said so herself that she’s stable.” The woman caught Serena looking at her, asking, “You think otherwise?”

“...I don’t know what I think,” Serena said. “But I don’t want to leave anything to chance. This is our sole opportunity to win, to fix everything. Forgive me, Celestina, for feeling a little anxious.”

As before, these words weren’t Serena’s. They came from her mouth, or rather, they came from the mouth of whoever she was inhabiting, but they weren’t hers. Like before, she was playing the role of someone with little choice but to wait and see how the memory progressed.

“This is their territory, after all,” Serena muttered.

“Pyrynn will light our way,” Celestina mused, a smile forming. “That’s what they say down here anyway, isn’t it?” A quiet lull formed between them, with only the clipping and clopping of the horses' hooves breaking apart the silence. With each step, the fog floor distorted, throwing up slivers of wisps that faded into nothingness. “With Diego scouting our path, we have nothing to fear,” Celestina said after a minute.

“Knowing him, he’d have wandered to Suria by now,” Serena mumbled.

“Is Suria still fighting?” a masculine voice called from behind. “Still resisting?”

“Last I heard,” Celestina said over her shoulder. “At least Amlaq will be busy. Poor souls.”

“Surprised they’ve held out so long. Reckon they got reinforcements?”

“From where?” Serena asked.

“That army from across the Salaban range.”

“The Golden Army?” Celestina intoned. “From the Golden City?”

“Ishaq City,” the man said. “Ishaq is Ashendi for gold.”

“When did a fool like you get so smart?” Celestina asked.

“Around the time I foolishly volunteered to get myself killed,” came the haughty reply.

“Ishaq City…” Celestina mumbled. “I suppose Amlaq wouldn’t be able to cross the Salabans. Too much rock. Must be a fortress. Hey, Anathor”—Celestina yawned and faced Serena—“how long till we die?”

“She said she feels close, last I asked,” Serena responded. “Regretting coming?”

“No,” came the reply. “I was merely wondering how long I have to think of my favour.”

“Thought you’d agreed on one,” the man said from behind. “White and gold thread. They’ll be wearing your designs for a thousand years, Celestina.”

“No, fool.” Celestina shook her head. “My designs will be worn for a thousand years because they’re wonderful, worthy of a saint, and she likes them. My favour will be something else.”

“Well, you were always her favourite.”

“No.” Celestina waved a finger, pointing it skywards. “Es is her favourite. Or…” The woman trailed off for a moment. “Es was her favourite.”

“Is,” Serena corrected. “She’s not dead, Celestina.”

“More or less is, on account of what we done to her,” the man grumbled.

“Look—” Serena began.

“Right!” Celestina clapped her hands, cutting her off. “Cut it out, both of you. I don’t want my last few days to be filled with your blasted argumentation.”

Serena and the man grumbled their agreement. They rode on in silence, the winding pathway continuing, while the ghostly vegetation remained unchanged. After a minute, the man spoke up.

“What’s it like?”

Serena turned when she—or rather, Anathor—realised he was talking to her.

“What’s what like?”

“Dying. You died once, didn’t you?”

“...I don’t think what happened to me could be considered dying.” Serena hesitated before adding, “My soul was captured by the temple. As was Father’s.” She cast a longing, loving look at the carriage before continuing, “We would still be there if she hadn’t released us.”

“What was it like? Being in that state?” Celestina asked, the slightest note of nervousness in her voice.

“Like a long sleep,” Serena answered.

“Thousand years. Long time to sleep,” the man grumbled.

“It wasn’t quite a thousand years.”

“Old man,” Celestina teased. “You’re an old man.”

“As I said. It was sleeping. I didn’t live through all those years as I am now.”

“Ah…” Celestina reached to the sky, groaning as she stretched. “I could do with a long sleep. Until then…” She faced Serena. “Tell me a story from your realm, Anathor. A story from your world. The one with endless lakes.”

“I still don’t believe it exists,” the man mumbled.

“They weren’t lakes,” Serena began, her voice taking on a note of yearning. “My memories are faint after so long, but I remember what we called it.” Serena waved a hand, as if dramatically gesturing to a vast expanse of sky. “Mar Oceano, it was called. Mar being our word for a great body of water, and oceano our word for… hmm…” Serena paused momentarily before saying, “A bigger body of water.”

“What kind of pointless—”

“Hush, Oliver!” Celestina chastised. She faced Serena and said, “Continue.”

“When I was born,” Serena said, “it was a great age of adventure, a great age of discovery. We built mighty ships. No, not the little lakebound, fishing vessels you’re thinking of. But ones that took hundreds of men across the endless oceano, seeking new lands. It was in those waters that we found our way here, to this realm. I came into life a common man, but my Father had a vision. Together, we—”

An explosion of sound and chaos tore through the dream world, cutting Serena off and twisting everything into fog. It was all burned away. Not by something in the memory, no, what burned away the dream world was a wall of golden light with flecks of royal blue.

Amelia was here.

The magic slammed into Serena, cutting off whatever was forcing her to remain in the dream and dragging her out of the memory and into the waking world. There was no slow coming to, no sleepy rubbing of the eyes and muttering, ‘What time is it? Where am I?’ Amelia’s divine healing meant Serena was immediately awake, fully refreshed and of sound mind.

“Phew,” Amelia said, locking eyes with Serena, her hair shining a luminescent aetheric gold. “If that didn’t work, I was going to get serious.”

Amelia’s first reaction to her girlfriend collapsing and becoming limp was, of course, to start to get serious. She’d barely had time to think before her aether moved, almost of its own will. It folded and twisted, arranging itself into a Word. Not just any Word. A combat Word. Not just a combat Word. One of the Words that Amelia had once been too scared to even try, lest she lose power and destroy a city.

If Taranis was considered a one-point-five Word….

What would the Stormwolf, Fenrirus, be?

It usually wasn’t possible to go straight to a Second-Word. The formation required to request an embodiment far exceeded what a normal mage could do without Speaking a First-Word.

Amelia didn’t care about what was normal.

Her aether surged in delight. Not just the atmospheric aether she was pulling in, either. There was another kind of aether. Aether that came from within her; her own aether that felt wonderfully divine.

While she spooled up Fenrirus, a part of her mind flashed a warning that perhaps invoking Fenrirus in Ishaq’s docks might qualify for what Serena would term a diplomatic incident. Besides, there was no need to jump the gun just yet. It had only been a few seconds since Serena had collapsed, connected to the ship through an ochre band of silky light, visible only in the Shimmer.

For a long time now, Amelia had felt a deep connection to the ship—something born from each getting their power from the same source. Her instincts told her it wasn’t trying to hurt Serena, but rather show her something.

But that didn’t mean it could do so whenever it pleased! Nor did it mean Amelia couldn’t lend her girlfriend some support, did it? Amelia wasn’t technically on the ship, so it had no right to complain if she cast a bit of magic.

She dismantled the monstrous formation of Fenrirus, rapidly replacing it with the now familiar Aseco. It was comical how small and simple the First-Word was in comparison. The difference was as stark as a First-Word Speaker comparing a sixth-circle spell to a first-circle one.

There, holding her slumped girlfriend, with the now uncloaked safe sitting on the gangway, Amelia made her final preparations. She finished constructing Aseco just as Finella and Mel said something. Whatever their shocked faces were saying, Amelia couldn’t tell. Her mind was fully focused on her Word.

She couldn’t risk it in the Passage, but now that the ship was docked and secure, she could try it now, couldn’t she?

The term ‘Speaking silently’ was a bit of a misnomer, in Amelia’s opinion. While expelling all atmospheric aether before invoking a First-Word did make the result less explosive, with the incoming divine aether facing no resistance from the less pure atmospheric aether, it wasn’t silent. Not really. The Speaker still had to Speak, still had to vocalise the god’s name, invoking their power across and through the mists, through the realm boundaries of the Shimmer and whatever else there may be.

The studious time Amelia spent at the academy, followed by the continued training since, meant she had more control over her magic than ever before. And with such control, backed by her ridiculous game-enhanced stats…

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Aseco, Amelia thought, activating the formation and becoming—as far as she knew—the first mage ever to mentally invoke a First-Word.

Her Lia Liona disguise, barely holding on, evaporated entirely. Aseco’s divine aether flowed, granting her supernatural potential. A flash of magic, painted in Aseco’s signature gold, lit up the staging tower for a brief second before Amelia brought it under control.

“What just—” Finella began.

Amelia cast Salubrious Restoration, a fifth-circle single-target healing and enhancement spell. Her aether roared, surging forth like whitewater rapids, injecting Serena with everything she might need to overcome whatever it was she was facing. Serena glowed gold, bands of magical blue aether were absorbed by her body, and flecks of ochre danced across her skin.

“M-Miss Liona!” Anathor shouted. “I fear the ship may—”

“Tell the ship to put up with it!” Amelia countered, not willing to entertain any complaints while her girlfriend was unconscious. “We’re docked and grounded. It can throw a tizzy all it wants for all I care. I’m busy!”

I have a girlfriend to support, she thought happily, feeling her love for Serena and the divine aether surging through her body merge into something endlessly warm and positive. Even now, with a fifth-circle spell doing its work and Serena in a questionable state, Amelia couldn’t help but be reminded of how good her girlfriend smelled.

“...I will comfort the ship…” Anathor grumbled.

Just as Amelia sensed his attention refocusing on the Fourth Deck, Serena’s eyes snapped open.

“Phew,” Amelia said, giving her girlfriend a loving smile. “If that didn’t work, I was going to get serious.” She pulled back so she could look Serena up and down. “How do you feel?”

Serena’s lips curled in that ‘I’m obviously okay given your magic healing’ way Amelia loved to see. Serena looked back at the squad, then at the safe, and then, finally, at Amelia holding her shoulders. “Were you hugging me?” she asked. “That’s inappropriate, Miss Liona.”

“You didn’t give me much choice,” Amelia replied. “You fell into me.”

“The ship didn’t like the crystal, I suppose.”

“Mmm!” Amelia clicked her tongue, doing her best to replicate the exact sound Serena made when she did it. “Honestly, it’s so sensitive. It should stop complaining all the time!”

“It showed me something,” Serena said, glancing back at the squad again. Each member paused, their hands releasing from sword hilts they’d gripped in preparation for a potential conflict. “We’ll talk about it later,” Serena said. “I’ve learned something important. I need to talk with Anathor about it.”

“I think he’s busy comforting the ship.”

“Right, right…”

Serena took a breath and stood up. She spent one second tidying her clothes, another adjusting her hair, and a third spinning on the spot, facing the squad.

Right back into captain-mode, Amelia thought. How competent!

Serena picked up the safe, walking down the gangway and back onto the staging tower. “This was my mistake,” Serena said to the squad, handing the safe to Amelia. “I should have guessed something like this would happen. I should have checked beforehand.”

“...And what did happen, my sayyidah?” Menes said, casting an awkward look between them. His eyes sparkled with intrigue when he looked at Amelia. “Now I see you properly, my anisa, I am shocked. What manner of power have you invoked? I do not understand it.”

After expelling a mighty effort not to chirp, ‘The power of love!’ Amelia put her hands on her hips and simply said, “I have tricks up my sleeve, Menes.”

“Heard that before,” the Arakian grumbled. Then his eyes widened, and he quickly added, “Ah, my anisa. While there are many humans in Ishaq, there are none with your hair and eyes. Before others see you, I would—”

“On it!” Amelia nodded. She spooled down her Word and cut it off, refilling her aether from the surroundings. The process got her a strange look and a raised eyebrow from Serena. Amelia knew then she’d have to explain what she did, and found she was looking forward to Serena’s surprised reaction.

Depending on whether she approved of Amelia's innovative invocation of Aseco or not, Serena would either ruffle her hair or pull her cheeks. Whichever way it went, it would be a nice reward.

She began reforming her Kanaxai disguise. It felt easier than before, given how saturated the atmosphere had become from the single cast of Salubrious Restoration. That said, she did it slowly. Now that the situation had somewhat been resolved, she could be a little more careful in the presence of the ship.

Anathor wouldn’t complain too much later, would he?

With her disguise finished, she set about cloaking the safe again. It was challenging work, given the delicate nature of Kanaxai cloaks and the problematic presence of the black moon crystal. While she worked, Serena debriefed the members of the squad that had recently arrived.

“The safe contains a darkblade weapon,” Serena informed them. “A dangerous crystal. Ame—I mean, Miss Liona discovered it when exploring the city. We came here to secure it, but I didn’t account for the ship’s reaction, or rather, I didn’t expect it to be so sudden. I felt rushed, given that there are others after this. Nevertheless, I was merely unconscious for a moment. Remember what I told you all when you first joined: The ship can stop threats from boarding.”

“Is it that dangerous?” Hinako asked, exchanging a glance with Ido and Arin.

“In the wrong hands, yes,” Serena answered. “The ship was only meant to be a temporary place to store it until we contacted Intelligence. An action that’s”—Serena tutted aggressively—“complicated when our Intelligence officer is on leave.” She gestured to Noburu and Seonmi and asked, “What happened to you? Where did you get those clothes?”

“Umm..” Noburu paused, an awkward expression forming. “It’s…”

“Don’t mumble when your captain asks you a question,” Finella said. “Just answer.”

“We couldn’t shake the people chasing us,” Seonmi said confidently. “We weren’t familiar with the layout of the city, so we ran until we found a great building with a thick crowd. It turned out to be”—Seonmi coughed into her hand—“the Council building.” Before Serena could say anything, Seonmi continued, “They followed us in, and we only finally lost them by escaping to some… restricted areas.”

“Restricted areas?” Serena crossed her arms. “How restricted?”

“The office wing of one of the Councillors,” Seonmi said. “Then an official caught us, and we had to think fast…” The demon gestured to her smart clothing. “Convinced them we were sent to help them with paperwork, given all the chaos. Seemed like a safe bet. People were running back and forth, and arguments were everywhere. It’s the archwhale stranding they’re still protesting about, Captain.”

“I see Miss Liona isn’t the only one I need to worry about letting loose,” Serena said quietly, rubbing her forehead. “So tell me, you were, what, working as clerks for the last few hours?”

Both cadets nodded with uneasy smiles. Noburu spoke, saying, “We kept trying to leave, but every time we had an opportunity, some important-looking pair of horns would tell us to take this here or fetch that from there. We got out as quickly as possible, Captain. It was tiresome.”

“Tiresome,” Serena echoed.

“B-But we found some useful information!” Noburu exclaimed, pulling out a few sheets of paper. “Remember that man, that Charles Hornford you talked about looking into? Just before we found an exit, we were handed these, told we were to deliver them to Councillor Nasr’s office.” Noburu handed the papers to Serena, who looked over them. Amelia saw her smile and exchanged a glance with her.

“Good work, you two,” Serena said before folding the papers and pocketing them. “Now we just—” She cut off as heavy footsteps sounded from below. Someone—no, two people—were climbing the staging tower towards them. Amelia’s senses tickled her. One of them was strong.

Everyone turned as the newcomers arrived. The first one to appear was a massive Arakian that stood taller than even Menes, only slightly shorter than the Lord Guardian who’d so kindly taught her how to brew mint tea. It was Dockmaster Tariq, approaching them with a scowl on his face.

And the other person behind him…

Amelia slid behind Serena as Korvus Maranai appeared, his face every bit as sour and grumpy as she remembered. She felt herself swallow. Had he detected her? Had he detected her magic? Her invocation of Aseco? Or was it all the aether she pulled in to form Fenrirus? Had he picked up on that? He was looking around, as if searching for something.

“Evening,” Serena intoned smoothly. “Dockmaster Tariq.” There was a brief moment of hesitation—a short second where even the air seemed to become venomous. “Captain Maranai,” Serena said. “Welcome.”

“Speaker Maranai,” Finella snapped into a salute. The other members of the squad followed suit. “It’s an honour, Captain. I’ve heard tales of your achievements over the years. The North bleeds.”

“The North bleeds,” Korvus growled. He looked at Serena for a long while, an unspoken communication going on between them before acknowledging her with a short, “Captain Halen,” earning him a nod in response. He then turned to Menes and tilted his head. “Lord Bastet.”

“Haha,” Menes chuckled. “Sayyid, if you would. After all, you’re one yourself, Sayyid Maranai!”

“I am only a Lord-Prospect, Sayyid Bastet,” Korvus replied, his eyes still searching.

He definitely detected my magic, Amelia thought. Was it her imagination, or had Serena moved to block even more of his view of her?

“Lord-Prospect. Lord. Bah”—Menes waved a hand—“it is all the same to us.”

Korvus grunted. “I sensed a movement of aether,” he explained to Serena. “More than that which would be expected or polite in daily usage of pre-emptive self-defence. What happened here, Captain Halen? Who are these horns?” He jerked his chin in the direction of the squad.

“They are the Vengeance’s replacements,” Serena said plainly.

“Replacements?”

“For the ground forces we lost.”

“Lost?” Korvus snorted. “They weren’t a pair of keys, Captain. They weren’t lost. You hung them.” He glared at her, but Amelia could see that Serena remained unfazed. Her girlfriend could never lose a battle of glares.

“I consider them lost,” Serena replied, “for those whose minds have forgotten loyalty and decency deserve no less.” Serena gestured to the squad. “What we lost in quantity we made up in quality, Captain. As I’m sure you can tell, they’re talented. Asamaywa Academy’s finest.”

“Is that so?” Korvus crossed his arms and began looking over them. “You’re a decent orange, aren’t you?” he asked Finella, who almost jumped as she saluted again and nodded. “Orange… red, red,” he murmured, looking over the twins before moving on. “You two don’t have any aether. What is your Captain thinking about taking you on board? Who are you?” he glared at Noburu and Seomi, who withered under his gaze.

“...Stop scaring my crew, Korvus,” Serena said.

“I’m just looking.”

“That’s scaring them.”

“For you to complain about scaring others with looks…” Korvus snorted and shook his head. “The world truly has been flipped upside down, hasn’t it?” Without waiting for an answer, he nodded at Mel and asked, “Orange or red? I can’t tell.”

“Umm…”

“You do not need to answer him, Officer Mori,” Serena advised.

Korvus laughed as Mel stayed silent. “That one has potential.” At his words, Mel bristled with pride. Despite the clear tension between him and Serena, Korvus was still a Speaker. His words carried weight.

“Second-circle,” he labelled, glancing at Hinako. “Third-circle. Not bad,” he gave an affirming nod to Daichi, who looked like he had no idea how to respond. Korvus cared not; his eyes finally moved onto Amelia and her disguise. “...Second-circle,” he finally said. “Skittish one there, Captain.”

Was it Amelia’s imagination, or did his eyes linger on her a bit longer than the others? Amelia kept her head down as much as she could, trying to hide her face from him. While she was disguised, her facial structure was the same. Surely he couldn’t recognise her from just her face? It had been half a year, and he’d only seen her a few times.

“Miss Liona is a contracted ice mage,” Serena said.

Korvus huffed. “Didn’t ask,” he said. He nodded to the disguised safe. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Ship cargo,” Serena said.

“Ship cargo’s meant to be on the ship,” Korvus replied. “What’s in it?”

“Provisions.”

“May I take a look?”

“No.”

“What a surprise,” Korvus said, grinding his teeth. “Anything in there that’s going to cause a problem for me?”

“No.”

“Did you just lie to me?”

“No.”

“Stop saying no, Captain.”

Amelia could feel the monstrous, titanic urge from her girlfriend to answer Korvus’ request with a fourth ‘no’. While Amelia wouldn’t have been able to resist herself, her girlfriend—in competent captain-mode—was made of sterner stuff and simply asked, “What is it I can do for you, Captain Maranai?”

“Wondering what the source of the aether was. I thought I saw a light. It reminded me of…” Korvus trailed off, his frown deepening. Amelia tried to breathe evenly as he asked, “Are there any other members of this squad I should know about?”

He recognises the golden light of Aseco from Port Highwind, Amelia realised. I remember hitting him with holy lightning. I’ll happily do it again if he wants.

“None that would cause you any trouble,” Serena answered, her voice perfectly even.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Captain,” Tariq stepped forward. “I don’t want to have to quell another riot in my docks.”

“You won’t, Dockmaster,” Serena said with a smile.

“I told you, call me Tariq.”

“Tariq.”

“Mmm.” Tariq nodded and stepped back. “I’ll be going now, Boss.”

Korvus grunted. “I’ll go with you.” Giving everyone one final look, he mumbled something incomprehensible and walked back down the stairs. They waited until he was out of earshot, but had hardly the time to breathe before a flash of silvery grey flew across the Vengeance’s deck and up and into Amelia’s arms.

“Rommy!” Amelia spun around, cuddling the peeka. “I missed you!”

“Rommy?” Finella muttered.

“Captain!” a voice called.

Everyone turned to see the Vengeance’s medical officer, Hillbrand, running towards them. “Captain,” she said, coming to a stop. “He wouldn’t stop yelling, the peeka, that is. Something spooked him, and he wanted out of Medical. Wouldn’t stop scratching the door. Voss did say he wandered the docks before, so I figured—”

“It’s fine, Hillbrand,” Serena said. “Anything wrong with the ship?”

“No, Captain,” the demon answered, looking puzzled. “Although the stairway around the Fourth Deck was feeling… chilly. I asked Anathor about it, and he said he was busy.” Hillbrand looked over the squad. “Has there been an incident? Any injured?”

“No. We’re quite fine. Thank you, Hillbrand.” Serena paused momentarily before asking, “And how are our guests doing? The casualties from the Myrmidon?”

“They’re getting there, Captain,” Hillbrand said. “I have it under control.”

“Good. Thank you, Hillbrand.”

“Aye, Captain.” The demon saluted before asking, “Should I take him back?”

“I fear Miss Liona’s face would be clawed off if you tried,” Serena mused, a smile on her lips. “Our resident rat-catcher seems quite determined to receive her attention. I think we’ll be fine, Hillbrand.”

“S-Stop licking me, Rommy,” Amelia complained. Just when she thought the peeka was settled, he would twist around in her arms and try to lick her face and neck. It was rather cute, she had to admit. “What would he be like if we gave him some of the peekaleaf?” she asked Serena, only for her girlfriend to laugh in disbelief.

“The last thing we need is a rampaging peeka. I can’t believe you purchased it.” Serena said. “It’s in your bag in my quarters along with the rest of your—” she stopped, as if remembering something. Then, a scowl formed as she said the last word. “...Stuff.”

Oh no! Had she discovered the sensational fragrant massage oil? That was supposed to be a surprise!

“My sayyidah,” Menes intoned, stepping forward. “What do you plan to do now?”

Serena closed her eyes for a second, as if collecting herself.

“If I can’t use the ship, then it can’t leave my sight. As reassured as I might be regarding the security of your friend’s place to hide things, I’m not willing to risk it.” Serena breathed out slowly. “Noburu. Seonmi. Return to your quarters and get out of those clothes. Go with Officer Bright and the remainder of the squad and find Officer Adachi. I suggest you start looking in drinking establishments that aren’t too pricey. Get changed, now.”

“Aye, Captain!” the pair saluted and darted into the ship.

“You are wondering where to take it, my sayyidah?” Menes asked. “Can you not just wait here?”

“Not with Korvus Maranai around,” she said. “If we linger, he’ll come back and stick his horns in our business.”

“...You do not get on?”

“Couldn’t you tell?”

The Arakian shrugged and held up both hands, mimicking two nattering birds. “You both seemed tense, sure. But you talk like a married couple. I argue with my wife sometimes, and I always—”

“Menes.” Serena cut him off and tapped the hilt of her sword. “If you ever suggest that Korvus Maranai and I are like a married couple again, I will have you join your brother. I don’t care how much of a well-respected sayyid you are.”

“Ha…” Menes rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “It’s like stepping on a minefield.”

“Menes…”

The Akrakian clapped his hands. “I know!” he exclaimed. “I know where to go! It’s obvious, isn’t it, my sayyidah?”

Amelia couldn’t help but ask.

“Where?”