The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus

by Bethany Hoeflich

  “If we impose higher taxes, yes,” she said in a frail voice. “You could begin construction within a month.”

  “At what cost?” The minister of the people protested. He half rose out of his seat, palms plastered to the table. His chest heaved with indignation, and spittle pelted everyone unfortunate enough to be seated nearby. “Sire, I beg you to see this madness for what it is. If you impose additional taxes, you will see riots in the streets. The people are suffering enough! Why should they pay a single coin more for glorified pleasure yachts?”

  “Pleasure yachts?” The naval officer slammed a fist to the table. “Each vessel is equipped with two dozen crossbows and harpoons!”

  “Can the people feed their children with crossbow bolts? We haven’t had a war at sea in over a century!”

  “Belosian pirates—”

  “Those godless heathens slinging pig dung are hardly a formidable naval fleet. A half-trained child is strong enough alone to capsize their boats. This request is unreasonable.”

  “Enough!” Silvano pressed his palms to his temples and took a deep breath. “It might come as a surprise that Kearar, being a desert nation, does not have a naval fleet. If they were to attack, it would be from land. Furthermore, Rei Tomar and I are childhood friends,” he said, completely glossing over the fact that Tomar had captured him during his last visit to the Mubali Oasis with the intention of selling him back to his father. After all, what friendship didn’t have petty squabbles and misunderstandings? He shook his head. “I will not take food from children to fund shiny new toys for the navy!”

  “But, sir—”

  “No, my word on this is final. You’re dismissed. We’ll reconvene in a week’s time to discuss the rest.” No one moved. The council exchanged loaded looks, causing Silvano’s temper to flare. “Was I unclear?”

  “Forgive us, sire, but there’s one last issue on our docket for today.” The minister of the people shot a pointed look at Silvano’s unblemished forehead. “While we appreciate that you took time from your busy schedule to arrange this meeting, you haven’t been anointed Miestryri yet. Until you are, you simply don’t have the authority to—”

  “Rest assured that the matter is being handled promptly. Once I am Miestryri in an official capacity, your loyalty will be rewarded. I don’t think I need to express how I would reward disloyalty,” he said, allowing the unspoken threat to hang in the air. He sat back in his seat as the council gathered their papers and filed out the door. It might not have won him any favors, but they needed to be reminded of who was in charge during these crucial decisions. He had faith that the council would be working smoothly within a month’s time. Jax stopped pacing, crossed his arms, and fixed Silvano with a hard stare. “Yes?”

  “Look, I don’t want you to think that I’m questioning you or doubting you in any way. You will always be my Miestryri, no matter what happens.” He resumed his infernal pacing, wringing his hands together. “But when things happen that I can’t explain, then I start wondering what you’re trying to hide…”

  “Jax, for the love of the sea god, stop rambling and just spit out what’s bothering you.”

  Jax nodded and pulled a chair out from the table to sit down. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I saw you manipulate water, both at the funeral and at the docks, and I wasn’t the only one. Your step-mother is spreading rumors among the elite and sowing discord amongst your supporters. They think it’s some kind of trick. I held my tongue this long, but I think we deserve some answers. When you were exiled, you left as a dreg. Now, somehow, you return as an Irrigo. How… how is this possible?”

  “It’s a long story,” Silvano said, releasing a shaking breath. “Honestly, I don’t know where to start.”

  “The beginning seems appropriate. What happened when you were exiled?”

  “Mikkal and I crossed into the southern border of Lingate. He wished to be discreet and stick to the wilds, but I was stubborn and insisted that no one would dare harm a prince, even if he was a dreg. Mikkal seemed distant at the time. I thought he was upset with me or the situation itself—what Shield would be delighted to train for a decade only to serve a disgraced prince? I had no idea that he was struggling with his morality instead. Unbeknownst to me, my father had approached Mikkal the night before we left and paid him to assassinate me. We traveled for a week until we reached the southern outpost of Canaich where the Rudven clan had settled to gather strength. I insisted on lodging in an inn and purchasing a hot meal for the two of us.

  “It was one foolish decision in a long line of foolish decisions. It doesn’t matter where you go in Lingate, the strong rule and the weak are prey. And for them? All dregs are prey, regardless of their birth. I still don’t understand how they found us. Maybe they had a Veniet, or maybe Father had sent out wanted posters, but we were cornered…”

  The inn had seen better days. It had probably been a welcoming beacon to weary travelers in its heyday, or at least it had once possessed a functioning door. I walked up to the gaping hole in the wall and peered inside. For someone who had grown accustomed to the refined behavior of the upper echelons of society, Lingate can be quite a shock. The patrons were dragging no fewer than three dead bodies from the room while the apparent victors were throwing back one celebratory drink after another. There was no way we’d blend in, not with me wearing my best silk doublet and crimson cloak. That suited me just fine. I had no intention of being overlooked like some commoner.

  Mikkal took one look at the inn and turned around, probably debating if he should simply tie me up and haul my spoiled behind to the nearest cave to hide.

  “Mikkal, unless you wish to snap the hilt of your sword off entirely, I suggest you relax.” My smile widened as his scowl deepened.

  He shot me a look as if to say, ‘Unless you want to be a corpse, I suggest you follow my lead.’ It can be a tricky thing to communicate with someone who doesn’t speak, but after being around my Shield for a decade, I find that he’s more expressive than most people if you know how to read him. I pushed past him into the room and flashed my coin purse to the nearest worker—who needs strength when you could buy it? In retrospect, I’m surprised Mikkal didn’t run me through right there and save himself the trouble.

  The barmaid told us to have a seat anywhere we liked, and she’d bring out some cottage stew. I eyed the central table with longing, but Mikkal grabbed my arm and dragged me to a dark corner booth, shoving me in as far as I would go before sitting on the edge of the bench. He left his sword in its sheath, but he drew a dagger and laid it on the bench next to him—a warning for anyone who might cause us trouble.

  I scoffed at his paranoia.

  As promised, the barmaid soon brought over two troughs of stew, two pints of ale and a loaf of dark, seeded bread. I had just lifted a spoonful of the slop to my lips when a rough-looking man with arms larger than my thighs stomped over to our booth. I assume he had at one point owned a mouth full of teeth, but some were conspicuously missing now, and the ones that remained were stained a deep yellow. And the smell… phew. If I had eaten anything at that point, it would have promptly made a reappearance.

  I covered my nose with my hand and said, “Good evening, sir. Can we help you with something?”

  Without a word, he swept an arm across the table, sending our food flying. Hot stew splattered over my clothes. “No dregs allowed,” he said in that gravely, savage accent of Lingate.

  Mikkal jumped from his seat, drawing his sword in one fluid motion, keeping me hidden. The man pulled an axe from the strap on his back and swung it in a brutal arc toward his throat. Mikkal blocked the blow and pushed him backward into a table, sending tankards flying. The man roared and charged again. More patrons crowded near, eager to see the action, and two more joined the fight against us.

  Well, not us, per se. Mikkal. I was useless. Up until that point, I’d shown no interest in swordplay, and the swordmaster at East Rock swore that I would be skewered by the time I hi
t adulthood. He was wrong, thankfully, but his opinion on my skills was painfully accurate. What use was learning to fight when I had a legendary Shield to guard my back? Leaving Mikkal to handle the ruffians, I did what I do best—save my own skin. I slipped out of the booth and through the kitchens past the gaping Pistor who clutched a meat cleaver in his shaking hands. I had just stepped outside when rough hands grabbed my stew-splattered doublet and slammed me against the wall. A blade pricked my neck and I froze.

  “Don’t move or I’ll cut ya.”

  I held my breath and lowered my eyes to look at my attacker. She barely came up to my chest in height, but I’d never seen a more terrifying creature. Her face and arms were riddled with deep scars, and the top of her ear had been cut off. Her tunic was dirty and full of holes. But the real terror was in her eyes—desperation. It was clear that she was a survivor. Someone who had experienced true suffering, and now she had nothing to lose. She was like a scavenger, letting the sharks fight over a meal then darting in for the kill while they were distracted. With Mikkal fighting the thugs inside, I was in very real trouble.

  I swallowed and plastered a tight smile on my face. I was Crown Prince Silvano Miore’, I could charm my way out of any situation, no matter how unpleasant. “My lady, perhaps there’s something I can do to assist you? If you’re in need of a hot meal and lodging, it appears as though a few rooms have been recently vacated.”

  A loud crash followed by shouts from inside the inn punctuated my claim. I dared a glance at the door, but there was no sign of my Shield anywhere. What was taking so long? Was he fighting everyone one at a time?

  “Shut up with yer fancy words.” She ran a hand down my side, and I felt the strings of my coin purse loosen.

  “If I might be so bold, there’s no need to rob me when I’m more than willing to assist you.”

  “Welcome to Lingate, love. If ye’re not the hunter, ye’re the prey.” She juggled the coin purse in her hand, a satisfied grin blossoming on her face at the weight. Then her face hardened, and she dug the tip of her dirk into my neck. “Don’t bother following me. If I see ya again, I’ll kill ya.”

  And with that, she backed away and ran off into the darkness.

  I stared after her, the beginnings of desire forming. Oh, not romantic. Not by any stretch of the imagination. She was fierce, brutal, and dangerous. Surviving my exile was proving more challenging than I’d anticipated, and I wanted that demon woman on my side.

  Silvano trailed off at the memory. Mikkal had tracked the woman to a small lean-to a few days south of Canaich but she hadn’t been alone. It turned out that she was protecting a tiny slip of a girl named Tova, and she was more than willing to kill to keep her safe. After some tense negotiations and even more death threats, the woman, Wynn, had agreed to team up with us. Their odds of survival increased with numbers. “We spent the next year on the run, watching each other’s backs. I knew that one day, I wanted to return home. I wanted to reclaim my position as heir. But first, I needed to learn more about the Order and why some people are Gifted while others are cursed to be dregs. I heard about a library in the ancient ruins of an old castle in southern Esterwyn, and we decided to investigate. On our way there, we ran into two fellow travelers. The woman, Mara, claimed that she’d been a dreg her whole life, but the power in her spoke of a different story. Now, I needed to know more. If it were possible for her to develop a Gift, I wanted one, too. For the first time, I felt hope.”

  “That’s a lovely story,” Jax said, gesturing to Silvano, “but it doesn’t explain how you were Gifted.”

  “I’m getting to that. Our journey led us to the frozen wasteland of Tregydar where we found a settlement completely removed from the influence of the Order. It was there that we met a Seer—”

  “A what?”

  “A Seer. It’s like a… female Magi. She can see the future. Opal, the Seer, gave us a place to stay and taught us of the treachery of the Order. It was because of her that I was not only given my Gift, but also a safe place to train.”

  Jax’s brow furrowed. “And what happened to the others?”

  “Mara was captured by the Order. In truth, I had hoped that she would join my cause in reclaiming my throne, but it was not to be. She’s probably still a captive. I’m ashamed to say it, but I hope she is. It’s for the best. A power like hers is too dangerous to let go free.” He squeezed his eyes shut as the memory of their botched attack flooded through his mind. “A few weeks later, Opal had a vision that the Order was going to invade Tregydar and wipe out the settlement. She evacuated their home and sent Wynn and me in two different ways. She told me it was time to reclaim my birthright. That in two months’ time, I should go to the Warlord and ask for help. Then I should come here and take my place as the crown prince. Obviously, I decided to cut out the middle man and come here directly. It seemed more efficient at the time.”

  “I’m still struggling with the idea that dregs can be Gifted. I never thought it was possible… It flies in the face of everything we’ve been taught.”

  “I was as shocked as you, but you can see the evidence here.” Silvano stood and walked to the window that overlooked the city. Everyone depended on him to do the right thing, but change came with a cost. For Crystalmoor, the price would be their ignorance. “When I am Miestryri, I will stop at nothing to rid our country of the Order’s corruption. As Opal once said, it’s a rot that must be carved out and destroyed.”

  “You’re already up against a fair amount of opposition from the masses. If you attempt to drive out the Order altogether, you’ll be facing an all-out rebellion.”

  “As Miestryri, it is my duty to do what’s best for my people.”

  “I only hope that you will do the right thing.”

  “Do you doubt me?”

  “Of course not, I—"

  The door crashed open and two guards entered the room, dragging a bound prisoner behind them. The guards roughly shoved him to his knees before Silvano. The boy seemed young, no older than fourteen or fifteen. His blue eyes held a glimmer of defiance, rather than fear, and his pale skin was flushed.

  “We apprehended him skulking around the treasury, sire,” the guard said, giving the boy a kick with his boot.

  “Was anything missing?”

  “No. We’ve confirmed that everything is secure and accounted for.”

  “So, what should we do with you?” Silvano brushed the straw-colored hair back from the boy’s face before tilting his chin up to get a better look at him. “Why did you come here? And how did you get in without someone stopping you?” He directed the pointed question to his guards who fidgeted under his scathing glare.

  “If I may, sire, we don’t believe he was working alone.”

  “I agree with your assessment. Anyone with the intellectual capabilities of a sea sponge would agree! How else would a child from the slums know his way around the castle so well? Have you searched him?”

  “Yes, sire.” The guard unfolded a piece of parchment and held it up. “It appears to be a map.”

  Silvano snatched it from his hand and almost dropped it. Not only was it a near perfect rendering of the castle layout, but the labels… he’d recognize that handwriting anywhere. What did she want so badly from the treasury that she was willing to send someone to get it?

  Jax leaned closer to get a better look at the paper. No doubt he’d drawn the same conclusion when he whispered, “We should torture him for information.”

  Silvano wished he could have been surprised by the suggestion, but he’d be lying if he said he was. Torture was one of his father’s favorite methods of getting someone to talk, but he didn’t want to be like his father. He wanted to be better. He wanted his people’s love, not their fear.

  He looked at the boy again. He had the rough edges of someone who was used to struggling. He was just a little too thin, his clothes a little too torn. “What is your name?”

  The boy spit in his face.

  Jax pulled his hand back to h
it the boy, who flinched violently to the side before the blow could even land. Silvano shouted, “Wait!”

  Jax looked at him in confusion but obeyed and lowered his hand to his side. Silvano wouldn’t boast that he was the best at reading people but growing up in the court of sycophants and backstabbers had its advantages. There was more to this boy than a simple thief. He recognized the look in his eyes as if he were looking in the mirror. He was a casualty of a system that didn’t care who it hurt, so long as those who were in power stayed in power, no matter the cost. Jax protested as Silvano lowered himself to kneel before the boy.

  Feeling a connection to him, Silvano reached out and placed an arm on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re a dreg.”

  His eyes bugged out of his head. “How did you—”

  “It’s obvious. You come from a poor family and were likely born in the slums. Your parents tried their best to protect you, but they couldn’t stop the persecution. This made you feel powerless and angry. When the Miestryri died, you thought it would get worse. You didn’t know me, so you turned to Arianna. Did she come to you with an offer? Did she offer you protection in exchange for your support?”

  The boy gaped, his jaw working like he was trying to chew through a clam shell.

  “I know what you’re going through. I grew up a dreg, too, and I have experienced that prejudice firsthand. I want to make things better for everyone…” Silvano trailed off. “What is your name?”

  “Bas.”

  Silvano smiled and nodded his head. “Bas, I can’t improve your situation if Crystalmoor is divided. A war would make things worse for everyone. Now, I don’t know what Arianna is planning, but I do know that she’s probably making her decisions based on hearsay and false rumors. If we want to create a country where everyone is treated equally, regardless of station, we need to be united. You can help by giving us information.” He held up the map. “I know she gave you this map, Bas. Where is my sister?”