Page 3 of Naga General’s Mate (Nagas of Nirum #2)

Mila

Mila pressed her crouched body 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.

The corridor to the sleeping quarters stretched before Mila like an endless tunnel. Her footsteps echoed softly against the polished floor as she walked past the guards, keeping her eyes down.

“Haven’t finished the comm room yet,” she muttered to herself, just loudly enough for the nearest guard to hear. She turned around, clutching her cleaning supplies closer.

The guard barely spared her a glance. Perfect. Just another invisible slave doing menial work.

Mila’s heart pounded as she approached Kurg’s private communications room. She opened the door slowly, being careful not to make a sound. The room smelled of leather and wood with hints of Kurg’s cologne still lingering in the air.

She pulled out her cleaning rag and wiped down surfaces while making her way to the communication terminal. The screen’s soft blue glow illuminated her face as she pressed her palm against the console.

“Please don’t be biometric,” she whispered. The screen flickered to life. No security prompt appeared. Why would there be one? Slaves weren’t supposed to know how to read, let alone operate technology. But her mother had made sure she learned these skills, albeit in secret long ago.

Her fingers flew across the holographic keyboard, navigating through folders, and the terminal hummed softly as she worked.

“Come on… Where are you?”

A file caught her eye—dated communications with timestamps matching the conversation she’d overheard. Mila inserted a data chip she’d palmed from one of Kurg’s drunk associates during the dinner party. It was one of many various items she’d secretly collected over the years. She never knew when one of these items might come in handy.

The progress bar crawled across the screen. Every second felt like an eternity.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Mila held her breath. She grabbed her cleaning supplies and dropped to her knees, scrubbing the floor near the terminal.

The footsteps passed.

The transfer completed with a soft chime. Mila pocketed the chip and reset the terminal display. She gave the room one final wipe-down, ensuring everything looked exactly as she’d found it.

As she stepped into the hallway, a guard rounded the corner.

“Finished in there?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” Mila kept her voice steady despite her racing heart. “Just heading to quarters now.”

The guard nodded and continued his patrol. Mila walked away, the data chip burning a hole in her pocket. With each step, the weight of what she’d just done sat heavily on her shoulders. There was no going back now.

Mila’s bare feet padded across the cold stone floor of the sleeping quarters. The data chip pressed against her hip in her pocket. Her earlier triumph dissolved into a knot of dread in her stomach.

“What was I thinking?” The words escaped in a harsh whisper.

Priscilla’s familiar form curled up on the bottom bunk, her golden hair spilling across her thin pillow.

Mila climbed onto her top bunk, the metal frame creaking. The ceiling loomed close enough to touch as she lay down. The evidence sat useless in her pocket. Who would listen to a slave? The council members wouldn’t give her the time of day. Their assistants were all in Kurg’s pocket.

“Should have thought this through better.” She pressed her palms against her eyes.

The guard’s boots echoed down the hallway on his nightly rounds. Mila held her breath until the sound faded.

Her mind spun through scenarios. If she approached the wrong person, they’d turn her over to Kurg. If she tried to bypass the proper channels, she’d be dismissed as a lying slave. Either way ended badly.

“Mila?” Priscilla’s voice drifted up from below. “You’re thinking so loudly, I hear you tossing and turning.”

“Go back to sleep, Cilla.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just… thinking about tomorrow’s duties.”

The lie tasted bitter. Priscilla’s steady breathing eventually returned but sleep eluded Mila. She’d acted on impulse, drunk on the possibility of freedom. Now that possibility felt more like a noose around her neck.

Dawn would bring new problems. Could she keep hiding the chip unnoticed? How long before Kurg discovered the copied files? The questions chased each other through her mind as exhaustion finally pulled her under into uneasy dreams of chains and running without getting anywhere.