“Don’t.” Marn’s voice was firm, a gentle yet unmistakable withdrawal in his actions as Wenda leaned in for a kiss. He placed his hands on her arms, easing her back with a careful motion. “You are not,” she retorted, her brow knitting into a frown of confusion and mild an-noyance. “You work the night shifts.” “I know, I know,” Marn sighed, a tone of weary responsibility creeping into his voice. “But I was late yesterday because of you. So I need to make up the time now.” “Really?” Wenda asked, skepticism lacing her tone. She tilted her head, regarding him closely, trying to discern whether there was truth behind his words. “Yes, really,” Marn affixed his gaze to hers, earnestness etched on his face. “If I don’t, it’s just a matter of time before I get a reprimand.” He paused, his voice lowering to convey the gravity of the situation. “Too many of those cause all sorts of trouble.” Although his words were convincing, Marn was distorting the truth. His lateness the previous day wouldn’t earn him a reprimand. Trema had known he would be late because he’d been trying to gather information from Wenda. Fortunately for Marn, she was a wellspring of gossip—it took no effort to get her talking. “You’re off. You can walk with me,” he suggested with a conciliatory smile. “Boring,” she pouted, her lips turning down at the corners. “That new Chapado wom-an is working with the kids today. The nursery’s empty. We could sneak in there.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the allure of forbidden thrills evident in her gaze. But Marn was resolute. No part of him entertained the thought of risking such an in-timate encounter in the nursery, not when there was even the slightest chance that the children might walk in on them. “Wenda, I’m on duty,” Marn reiterated, this time with more emphasis, hoping to con-vey the seriousness of the potential consequences. “If anyone catches us in the nursery, I’ll be thrown in the brig.” She scoffed. “You just like Areen more than me, that’s the problem.” Marn met her accusation with a level stare, his patience beginning to fray. “Wenda, do you see me sleeping with her while I’m on duty?” The jealousy in her eyes was clear as day, and she crossed her arms defensively. “You did sleep with her during the Day of Jubilation,” she accused, remembering a past inci-dent to make her case. “I slept with her more than that. We grew up together. But I wasn’t on duty.” “So you do like her.” “She’s good in bed. She’s good to have on the side if no one else is available.” He was going to have to let Areen know he said this and that he didn’t mean it. He hadn’t treated her that way in the post and didn’t feel that way now.” “You on the other hand…” His voice trailed off as he leaned in closer, the proximity of their faces erasing the remaining distance with a tender kiss. “You need to stay around when I get off,” he whispered gently after pulling away, his eyes searching hers for con-sent and complicity. “My husband will suspect something,” she replied, her voice laced with a mixture of desire and fear. “So? Do you really care about what he thinks?” he challenged, with a tone that sug-gested he was ready to dismiss any objections she might have. “He’ll beat me if he finds out,” she admitted, the stark reality of her situation casting a shadow over the moment. “Then I’ll arrest him, and then we won’t have to worry about him anymore,” he as-serted confidently, though internally cringing at how much he sounded like a typical Yarb and hated it. “I don’t want to get beat,” she said quietly, the thought alone causing her to shudder. “Loka will heal you. She’s good,” he reassured her. Despite the promise of healing, Wenda’s frown deepened. The complexity of emo-tions etched into her face spoke volumes of her inner turmoil, conflicted between the de-sire for a moment’s happiness and the fear of violent repercussions. Her frown, an unspo-ken word that echoed louder than any promise of protection or healing, remained etched between her brows, a testament to the hard choices she faced Marn encircled Wenda with his arm, feigning affection as part of his elaborate cha-rade. “You know my hours, and you know your husband’s habits. Just find a time that’s convenient for both of us.” Wenda, her voice tinged with skepticism, responded, “I don’t think you’re as interest-ed in me as you claim.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Believe what you want. If you want a Yarb stationed up here, I have to watch myself. How many times can I get in trouble without someone look-ing at my record and finding my citizenship? And it doesn’t help that I grew up nearby. Imagine the consequences if that came to light.” She sighed. He had an answer for everything. He hoped. She trailed behind him for a time, but when they were out of view, she leaned in for a kiss. Marn reciprocated, but the deception weighed heavily on him. Unable to continue, he pulled away. “Shan’s on duty downstairs still. If he doesn’t hear this, he’ll hear that I’m not walking around.” “Do you think he can hear us kissing?” Wenda asked. “No, but he can hear my footsteps. Let’s keep moving,” Marn urged. “See, this is why those nasty dragons are so bad. You can’t trust them,” Wenda said, her voice ripe with contempt. “Shan isn’t a dragon,” Marn corrected her. “Then what is he? No human has that kind of hearing ability or magic,” she mused. “I honestly don’t know,” Marn admitted, his ignorance genuine. “For all we know, he could be a threat,” she speculated, letting her prejudices mani-fest freely. Marn struggled internally, keeping his emotions in check. He’d known Shan for four years. Aside from the trouble controlling his magic, there had been no trouble. Wenda continued unabated, “And Lanni. She is a dragon. Can you believe it? A dragon here for seven years and one knew. She could have eaten any of the kids. Shades, Jaina was just a baby. The other two weren’t even born. Do you know how much time she spent in the nursery? Crellis left her alone in there.” Marn bit back his rebuttal. He knew dragons didn’t eat children. They wouldn’t even hurt a child. They protected children at all costs. He could walk up to any dragon, hand them a child, and walk away without a word and the dragon would care for the child as their own until he returned. When he did return, both would be seen as family. The real reason the Yarbs disliked dragons is the dragons abhorred their treatment of women and children. The dragons refused to have anything to do with the Yarbs unless they agreed to treat all their people with respect. The Yarbs refused and started telling their people lies to prevent them from trusting the dragons. However, Marn held his peace, fully aware that Wenda wouldn’t listen and it would destroy his credibility. Marn brought up the topic with a measure of assurance, “Lanni’s been here seven years,” emphasizing the duration of her tenure. “I think the kids are safe.” Wenda seemed hesitant in her response, her words laced with a touch of skepticism. “Maybe,” she reluctantly conceded. Marn, with the slightest hint of jest, offered a whimsical explanation: “I think dragons have to promise not to eat people before they’re allowed to be around them.” Her eyes widened, and for a moment, innocence painted her face. “Really?” She ac-tually looked like she believed that. But skepticism soon resurfaced as she admitted, “But I still don’t trust her.” Marn clarified his position, drawing a distinction between trust and safety. “I didn’t say trust her. I said the kids were safe,” he pointed out with patient emphasis. Wenda’s sentiment was unwavering, her relief tied to one condition. “I’ll be happy when she’s gone.” His interest piqued, Marn queried, “Gone? Is she leaving?” “Lady Barta talked about Sifa taking over in the kitchen. She’s not as good of a cook as Lanni, but she’s human and a Yarb.” Marn was caught off guard by this news. “Lanni gave notice?” That was news to him. Wenda speculated on the reasons for the change in staff. “I didn’t hear. But why else would Sifa take over? Lanni’s a Menthan Princess. Why is she even working as a cook? If I were a princess, I certainly wouldn’t ever work. And she’s an animal. All this time, a filthy animal has been in the kitchen. She uses magic on the food at times. I’m glad I eat at home.” Her discomfort with the situation was evident in her voice. Marn rolled his eyes discreetly. She continued, revealing the disapproval of those higher in rank. “Lady Barta doesn’t like it either. She said she’d make Loka check whoever she hired to help Sifa and make sure she’s human.” Skepticism even toward human mages surfaced as Marn pointed out, “It won’t help if the person’s a mage.” Confidence marked her response. “I’m sure there’s a way to tell.” Marn sought clarity on the timeline of these events. “How much longer will Lanni be here? Has Lady Barta started looking for Sifa’s assistant?” “Not yet. I don’t know how long it will be. I didn’t hear the whole conversation. I only heard Lady Barta telling Lord Rantar that Sifa’s a good enough cook to replace Lanni.” The uncertainty in her voice reflected the incomplete picture she had. Marn heard the sounds of children laughing and running up the stairs, accompanied by Chapado’s voice calling after them. He swiftly pushed Wenda aside to avoid being seen too close by the children, who were evidently in high spirits. Three vibrantly red-faced, giggling children darted past on their way to the nursery, their joy obvious in their brisk steps. Shri stopped for a moment, her excitement brimming. “We’re going to be mages. I can start a fire,” she proclaimed proudly. “Do not show them just yet,” Chapado warned with caution. “We don’t want an ac-cidental fire to burn down the house.” Shri nodded in understanding, the seriousness of the warning not lost on her. “I won’t. I just wanted to share the news. Have you seen Zannal? I want to tell him, too.” Marn could only offer a noncommittal shrug in response. “He’s probably having din-ner, or he might have already gone to bed.” Satisfied with the answer, Shri acknowledged his response. “Okay. I need to clean up,” she declared, scurrying off to attend to her task. Chapado chuckled at the energy of the youth. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve had to mentor someone so young.” Curiosity piqued, Marn inquired, “How old are your children now?” The question seemed to amuse Chapado as she replied, “My youngest is 1400, or thereabouts. But none of them showed signs of magic as early as this. You’ve probably heard Jarhee and Lanni mention Grandpa Nim. That was him. He was twenty, but for a dragon, that’s like a 2-year-old. He was very active, too. I’d get him to draw just for some peace.” A sense of nostalgia washed over Marn. “We had one of his drawings in our house when I was growing up. It depicted some distant family member of ours. He served as a bodyguard to one of Nim’s apprentices.” Chapado’s face lit up with recognition. “Nim only had one apprentice that had body-guards, Lanni. The men were both honor guards, Merton and Crito.” “I can’t recall his name,” Marn confessed. Chapado’s mind worked as she conjured a visual representation of two figures. “Was it one of these?” “That’s the one,” affirmed Marn, pointing to one image. “That’s Merton. I married Crito, so I thought for a moment we could be relatives. Merton was an exceptional man as well,” Chapado said with a tinge of pride in her voice. “He’d be quite proud to know you’re a soldier,” she reassured Marn, acknowledging his profession with respect. Marn accepted the kind words with a simple nod, feeling the warmth of the connec-tion. “I’ll see you later,” Chapado told them and left. “How did you get a Menthan grandfather if you’re Yarb?” Wenda inquired, her curi-osity evident. Marn shook his head with a bemused expression on his face. “I didn’t say he was my grandfather,” he clarified gently, his voice laced with patience. “The picture is hundreds of years old. No one in my family knows how he’s related to us. If he had dragon influ-ence, there might not even be a real relationship, or perhaps he married into the family.” He noticed the slight frown on Wenda’s face and sought to ease her confusion. “Does it matter? It’s just an old picture that my family keeps around because the artist was ex-traordinarily talented. To us, it’s a piece of our history, a work of art that has outlived generations.” With a tender smile, he reached out, pulling her close into his embrace, and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, signifying the end of the topic and the beginning of a moment shared just between them. Her hands started exploring. “How long before your husband misses you?” he asked. “I don’t want you to be hurt.” She pulled away, her expression troubled. “I should go,” she agreed. “Meet me in the morning when I get off work,” he told her. “I can’t. I’ll see you when I can,” she replied, her voice tinged with urgency. After giving him another kiss, she hurried off, leaving Marn alone with his conflicting emotions. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Did she finally leave?” Chapado inquired, stepping out of the nursery. “Fortunately,” Marn replied, his eyes meeting hers. “Are you a soldier too?” “No, why do you ask?” “I was hoping you might be able to stand in for me while I take a bath,” he said with a shudder, the memories still clinging to his skin. “Sorry, I can’t do that.” Marn sighed, the weight of his deeds pressing down on him. “I can’t keep this up,” he admitted. “Areen, Wenda’s husband… I’m betraying them. I’ve never cared before, but now…” “It’s not the same,” Chapado empathized. “Sleeping with someone because you want to is not like sleeping with them out of duty. Believe me, I know. You and I are more alike than you might think. I have twenty-three children. Only fourteen knew their fathers, and just eleven had their fathers involved in their upbringing. Like you, I appreciate compan-ionship in bed. Some lasted only a few nights. Others, like with Crito, lasted for centu-ries.” Chapado’s eyes grew distant as she recounted her past. “There was a time when I could extract information from someone by sleeping with them. I didn’t hesitate. I got what we needed, and it helped us thwart our adversaries. But the price was steep; it wore on me emotionally. It didn’t help that I got pregnant.” Marn frowned slightly. “We haven’t slept together, and if that happens, I’ll be careful. I always am.” Chapado let out a wry laugh. “You think I wasn’t careful? Out of those twenty-three, only four were because of my carelessness. Seven of my children were conceived inten-tionally. If you’re not a father yet, it might be worth discussing with Loka to see if you can be one.” Her words caught Marn off guard. It had never crossed his mind that he could be sterile. He had simply assumed that the birth control potions he’d used were exceptionally effective. “The potions’ efficiency varies from person to person, and on occasion, they can be flawed,” Chapado explained. “It’s possible you’ve just been lucky.” Marn pondered this new information, considering its implications and the unpredicta-ble nature of his own future. Chapado furrowed her brow; concern etched across her. “But if it’s bothering you this much to do what you have, think extra hard before you sleep with her.” Marn shook his head, and a wry chuckle escaped his lips, tinged with disbelief. “I don’t want to sleep with her,” he confessed. His laughter faded to a more reflective tone as he added, “I never thought I’d say that, but it’s about more than just hurting Areen.” Chapado’s stance remained firm, his voice laced with a blend of wisdom and personal experience. “Then don’t do it. When I had a similar decision to make, I wasn’t involved with anybody, and I still regretted it afterward. You need to put a stop to this whole situ-ation.” Marn, leaning against the wall, peered down at the ground, mulling over his next words. “But she’s telling me things,” he finally said, his voice low and conflicted. Chapado crossed her arms, recounting a tale of princely protection to illustrate his point. “When one of the princes pledged to marry Crito’s cousin, the guards all watched out for her to make sure no one gave her trouble. They shifted their patrol rounds if any-one thought someone might not treat her right.” With a nod, Marn acknowledged the story. “I’ve heard of such measures being tak-en,” he conceded. Brushing her hands together as if formulating a plan, Chapado provided a practical solution. “I’ll have a word with Trema. We can arrange circumstances so that you and she aren’t left alone for too long. It should be enough to deter any trouble from brewing.” The uncertainty that shadowed Marn’s features only deepened. “If people are always around, she won’t speak openly.” Pensive for a moment, Chapado laid out his strategy. “We’ll be down the hall or we can send one of the servants passed, someone she trusts, like Crellis or Malla. Maybe the kids might escape.” “They do seem good at that,” Marn remarked, a small smile appearing at the thought of the mischievous children. Chapado concluded, “But this way, you can still talk with her without upsetting her but you won’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” Marn exhaled a deep sigh of relief, the tension visibly draining from his shoulders. “If it works, that would be appreciated,” he agreed, feeling a sense of gratitude toward her for the supportive gesture. “I’ll speak with Trema and get everything arranged,” Chapado promised. “Thanks,” Marn replied, the simple word laden with appreciation. Indeed, the pro-spect of resolving this vexing issue had provided him with much-needed solace. #fantasy #magic #dragons #hiddenlands