Page 36 of Zepharali: Lord of the East Winds (Lords of the Wind Book 3)

Lazaar

Lazaar was being tossed into the sky so high he was able to flip around Myst before he dove back into the warm waters.

He could swim so fast now, using his ability to breathe underwater.

The game was a lot more competitive, and he relished the challenges the merfolk gave him.

Since he had tons of time to spare while Zepharali was working, this had been one of his favorite ways to await his return.

Life here is so grand!

Lazaar laughed like a crazed dolphafish when he shot four fireballs at a time toward Lukais, who was quickly becoming a good friend.

Lukais’ wife made sure he paid for that by swatting him on his rear end with her tail when he was underwater.

After the game ended, he challenged a few of the kids to a race.

After he was victorious, he cheered so loud that he didn’t notice the merfolk were no longer laughing with him, their eyes trained on the shore.

Lazaar turned to see Dorema in her gleaming gold armor, her eight-foot spear in her right hand as she stood rigidly in front of thirty titanesses.

Realizing he was now alone, his playmates having fled, he began to swim toward the coastline. Oleksandr and Elephaa made an urgent gesture for him to swim faster.

Lazaar blinked to the shore and hurried out of the water, breathing hard, wondering what was happening.

Elephaa directed one of Lazaar’s aids to drape his black cloak around his half-naked body.

Dorema’s expression was so stern and challenging that Lazaar became nervous.

“I assigned you this duty because I assumed you would not only protect our father’s heart, our tribrid, but also train him to protect himself.”

Elephaa stood at attention under her big sister’s scrutiny.

“May I remind you, Commander, that your wife discharged me from infantry for being unable to fulfill the requirements. With my handicap, I cannot train him to the fullest of his ability.”

Dorema flipped her spear and, with lightning speed, spun it around her back and aimed the hard steel toward Elephaa’s face.

Lazaar couldn’t blink fast enough to help her, but he didn’t have to.

With one arm, Elephaa yanked her sword from her back and blocked the blow with the point of Dorema’s spear an inch from her throat.

“Prince Lazaar has the potential to be the greatest warrior the worlds have ever seen. I did not choose you, the chief of his guards, without considerable thought.”

Dorema righted her spear and eased out of her fighting stance as Elephaa returned her sword to its sheath.

“These excuses are beneath you,” Dorema whispered sternly in Elephaa’s face. “You always were, and still are, one of the best warriors Scáthanna will ever have.”

Elephaa cast her eyes down.

“You are the leader of his guards for a reason.” Dorema narrowed her eyes and said in a no-nonsense tone, “Behave like it.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Lazaar flinched when her attention turned to him.

“You fussed at my father for wanting to be treated as an equal, yes?”

“I did.”

“Then I expect you to be armed and on my training field before I get there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, Commander!” she snapped.

“Y-yes, Commander,” Lazaar stuttered.

Dorema got in his face, so close he could feel her hot breath. “And the next time I send for you, tribrid, you better damn well make haste. Because if you ever tell me to wait again, I will make sure you regret it.”

He didn’t have a chance to acknowledge or apologize before Dorema turned away, her guards falling into formation behind her.

Lazaar instead apologized to Elephaa, feeling as if he’d gotten her in trouble.

She waved him off. “Dorema is right, your grace. Playtime is over. Scáthanna is on the brink of war. I should’ve been training you.”