The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus

by Bethany Hoeflich

  “What?” Isaac’s words cut through her thoughts and Mara panicked, inhaling a mouthful of water. She coughed and spluttered like a drowning mole rat, scrambling to collect her thoughts. She pressed a cloth napkin to her mouth, trying to stifle her coughs. What was he saying? What did he know?

  Confusion filled his eyes as he tried to make sense of her behavior. “The outer ring. You’re working on your project, yes?”

  Mara ducked her head, hoping he couldn’t see her blush. The project had been Isaac’s idea. While the emperor ran the country, the empress was expected to dabble in humanitarian projects to benefit Merrowhaven. As Isaac’s betrothed, Mara was expected to carry on the tradition. While Empress Olivia had spent her coin on rescuing the city’s stray animals, Mara had chosen to focus on a different problem—two different problems, in fact. Inspired by Ella, her more public effort was to improve the conditions in the outer ring by providing better access to healthy foods and medical care. Her own private agenda was to help the dregs outside the city, and Isaac had no idea what lengths she had gone to. Sure, it was obvious that she had provided better shelter and conditions, but no one could know that she’d been Gifting them as well. Not even Isaac.

  Pretending to wipe her mouth, she said, “Yes. Of course. I’ve been working on my project in the outer ring.”

  “How mysterious.” A small smile tugged at his lips. He aligned his body so it faced her and dipped his head, pouting his lips—a move he’d practiced on dozens of women before her, no doubt. “How is it going?”

  “I wasn’t aware that you were interested,” she said, dodging the question. In truth, she didn’t know much about how that project was going. Ella had volunteered to run the whole thing, and since then, Mara had gotten nothing more than brief updates and requests for additional funds. With a competent person in charge of the outer ring, her focus had been on the dreg encampment. But Isaac didn’t know that. He was still under the impression that the dreg encampment had been a side project, and now that a few structures had been built, she was focused on the outer ring.

  “I’m always interested in what you’re doing. Since we’re to be married, shouldn’t I be aware of what occupies your time?”

  Her words were slow as she scrambled to remember the latest update from Ella. “Well. Ella has been instrumental. We’ve managed to find a Healer sympathetic to our cause. He’s set up a small shop on North Street and accepts barters for treatment. I told him to make a list of patients who couldn’t afford to pay, and we would cover the balance.”

  “That’s quite altruistic of you.” His lips quirked up in a smile. “Just how much lighter will my coin purse be once you’re through saving every Gifted in Merrowhaven from the bondage of poverty?”

  Not just the Gifted, she thought.

  “Isn’t that the point of these projects?” She dragged her fork through the cooled green beans on her plate, unable to muster the effort to lift them to her mouth. “It seems a small price to pay for the comforts you’ve been given.”

  “Indeed it is! I must say I’m impressed with how much you’ve accomplished so far,” he said with forced enthusiasm. Any amount of progress would feel like it was enough for him, she imagined, feeling the gap between them lengthen. Isaac had never spent a day in poverty. What would he know about the effort it took to live when the world was determined to crush him?

  She sighed. “Yes, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. I wish there was more we could do to help them.”

  “Big changes don’t happen overnight, but I have faith in you.” He reached under the table and gave her hand a squeeze. She fought the urge to snatch her hand away. They were in public, and she had to play her part. “With you by my side, Merrowhaven will change for the better.”

  Her eyes darted to the emperor who was watching them with interest now. “I have no doubt that you will succeed,” she said politely.

  “We will succeed.” His expression filled with challenge. “We’re in this together now.”

  “Are we? Because it feels like we’re little better than strangers.”

  He leaned back like she’d hit him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I . . .” she began, fully intending to lay into him about how she felt out of control and forced into a position she never wanted. Life had become a runaway horse and she was just barely maintaining a grip on the saddle. But she could say none of that without coming across as whiney. She lowered her gaze. What could she say to get through to him? In the end, she aimed for the truth as close as she could without revealing too much. “I’m overwhelmed.”

  His guarded look softened into sympathy. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t. It’s only been a month, Mara. Give it more time to adjust. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

  Mara bit her lip. Oh, there was definitely something he could do, but she didn’t think asking him again to petition the emperor to dissolve their engagement would go over well. She had to remind herself why she was staying. She looked to the back wall where a gangly woman with straight brown hair was waiting by the doors that led down to the kitchens with a tray of lemon ices balanced on her arm. Her uniform hung too loose on her slender frame and her shoulders were hunched as though she was trying not to be noticed. Isabel. Just last week, she had lived in the dreg encampment. After her Gifting, they discovered that she was a Pistor. With a little help, she could have opened her own shop in the middle ring, but Mara offered to get her a job in the palace kitchens. She wished she could bring all the former dregs here where they were safe, and she could look after them. Unfortunately, that would draw too much attention.

  Of the two hundred newly Gifted, only half had Gifts that could be weaponized, and some were either too young or too old to fight. At the rate they were Gifting the dregs, Mara would have a force that could confront the Order within a few months. Oona had discreetly sent out messages to surrounding villages and towns, asking every dreg to come to Merrowhaven. Mara had objected, saying that it was too brazen, but Oona insisted. The fire burned in her brighter than her own. The loss of her parents at the hands of the Order was a wound that could only be healed in blood. And Mara knew better than to go against her by now.

  Mara’s eyes slid back to her friends’ table, only to find that both Oona and Ethan were watching her—specifically watching her hand laced with Isaac’s—with openly hostile expressions. Ethan looked away first, his jaw clenching. Mara pulled her hand away and reached for her goblet. Maybe waving a servant over and requesting wine was a good idea. Better yet, just leave the pitcher. Gods knew she’d need it to get through the rest of dinner.

  “Were you able to convince your father to move into the palace?” Isaac prodded.

  “Hmm?” Mara realized she hadn’t responded to his first question. His lips pinched together in annoyance. “Sorry. Uh. No. No he hasn’t. He’s being stubborn, as usual.”

  The shock of seeing her father in Merrowhaven had long since faded, but the reason still cut deeper than a knife. After her betrothal with Isaac had been announced, Cadmus had sent his disciples to destroy her hometown of Stonehollow. She wasn’t certain why, but maybe he didn’t need a reason. Maybe he did it simply because he could. Mara’s mother, Sarai, had died in the attack, but Eli had lived. While her death had kindled a burning desire for vengeance in Mara, Eli had withdrawn, too preoccupied with the loss to function in the most basic of senses. It was hard to blame him, considering it took most of Mara’s energy to get through each day. She couldn’t afford the luxury of giving into her grief yet.

  “Keep trying. I’m sure he’ll come to his senses any day now. It might just be too soon after . . .” he trailed off. Too soon after her mother’s death. He winced. “I’m sorry.”

  She took a shuddering breath and shifted in her seat. “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not. I was being insensitive. Forgive me.”

  “It’s fine, Isaac,” Mara said, a little harsher than she’d intended.

  Ser
vants went around the tables, removing dirty dishes and platters. Isabel approached the head table with her tray, the crystal bowls clinking together with each step. She gave Mara a tentative smile and placed a dish of lemon ice in front of her. Mara returned the smile, grateful that Isabel’s arrival had interrupted the tense conversation.

  “Thank you.” Mara picked up a tiny spoon. “How are you adjusting to the palace?”

  Isaac perked up. “Oh, is this one of yours?”

  Isabel peeked at him from behind a curtain of brown hair, her face paling. Her hands trembled as she sat a bowl of ice on the table before him. She nodded at him and said, “Good, Mar-My Lady,” before hurrying down the table.

  Mara scooped the ice and lifted the spoon to her lips when she caught Isaac staring at her. “What?”

  A vee formed between his eyebrows. “That girl’s life is leagues better than it was, and it’s all thanks to you.”

  If only he knew just how different it was.

  “I know, but it doesn’t feel like enough.” Not nearly enough. She rolled her shoulders back, stretching out her aching muscles. Not even a long soak in the tub had been enough to sooth the soreness from the beating Mikkal had given her.

  “Training?” Isaac asked.

  She nodded before taking a bite of the ice. It melted on her tongue, the tart lemon bursting with flavor. “Twice. I think Mikkal and your guards are conspiring to see who can break me first.”

  “Don’t you think that’s excessive?”

  “Why, how often do you train?” She frowned. Now that she thought about it, she’d never seen him on the training grounds unless it was to socialize rather than spar.

  “Once.”

  “Per day?”

  “Per week.”

  “What?” she shouted, drawing more attention to them. She lowered her voice and said, “How will you be able to protect yourself unless you train more often?”

  He laughed. “Why would I need to do that? That’s why I have guards. You should cut back on the sessions, too. It’s not seemly for the future empress to spend her days tussling with the guards. You should spend your days in comfort and luxury rather than sweat and dirt.”

  “I’d rather not trust others with my safety.” Her nose wrinkled. “And besides, it’s not like I have much of a choice. Your father was pretty clear that I needed to keep training.”

  “I’ll speak to him about cutting back the number of sessions if you’d like.”

  “No, thank you.

  “Very well.” He took another bite of the lemon ice and sighed before changing the subject. “If you’re interested, my horse will be racing this week. I would love to take you to see him run.”

  Merrowhaven horses were bred for their speed and were known for their graceful, arched necks and long, delicate legs. She’d never see a horse race before, but it was a popular sport here. She couldn’t keep the eagerness from her voice when she answered, “I would love to.”

  Isaac’s face transformed into a radiant smile. “Wonderful! I’ll make the arrangements. I think you’re going to like it. Oh, and you’re going to need a hat.”

  “A hat?” Why would she need a hat to go watch a horse race?

  “It’s a bit of a tradition. The more outlandish and over-the-top it is, the better.”

  She squinted at him to see if he was joking, but he seemed perfectly serious. “I guess I’d better send Mary out to choose one for me.”

  “Now you’re learning. There’s no sense in wasting your precious time when you have servants to run errands for you.”

  “No, it’s not that. I’m more concerned that I would pick something too ridiculous and you wouldn’t want to be seen with me.” She laughed, then immediately wondered why she was encouraging him. Maybe it would be better to wear the most hideous outfit and hat, then he would want to end the engagement rather than be seen in public with her.

  Emboldened by her excitement, he asked. “Do you have plans tonight? There’s a new opera in town that I would love to take you to.”

  “Oh, sorry. I do have plans, but maybe another time?” she said, not meaning it. Isaac had taken her to one opera, and it was not her style at all.

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  She sincerely hoped he didn’t.

  5

  That night, Mara snuggled deeper into the furs on her bed, Tamil tucked snugly in her arms. Oona and Wynn sat cross-legged at the bottom of the bed with a sugary feast between them. Wynn had raided the kitchens again, despite Mary’s warning to leave the poor Pistor alone, and now she was gorging herself on cupcakes, cookies, and tarts.

  Wynn gestured animatedly, almost hitting Oona in the face with a chocolate-frosted cupcake. “So there I was, running down the hall, the head chef chasing after me with a meat cleaver, screaming at me to bring back his plate of cream puffs. How was I supposed to know they were for the empress? If they didn’t want someone taking them, they shouldn’t have left them out on the counter for everyone to see! And don’t let his size fool ya—the man can run faster than ya’d expect! So now I’m panicking with nowhere to hide, thinking I’m seconds away from being gutted like a plump turkey. Cream puffs are falling off the tray and onto the floor like a trail marker. I close my eyes and POOF, there I go!”

  Letting them hang, she stuffed the entire cupcake in her mouth. Tamil’s eyes bugged out of his skull and he scrambled out of Mara’s arms, leaning forward. “Did you get away?”

  “Do I look dead to ya? Of course I got away. Ended up appearing in a room I’ve never seen before. I don’t even have a chance to catch my breath when the doorknob turned, and I heard the most gods-awful singing from just behind the door. Thought someone was peeling skin off a cat, that’s what. Before I could hide, the emperor’s chief advisor comes strolling in wearing nothing but what his mama gave him. Not sure who was more shocked, him or me! Ya know I’m not quick at thinking on my feet, so what do I do? Set the almost empty tray of cream puffs on his bed table and tell him that his afternoon snack was ready.”

  Oona wrapped her arms around her waist and rolled over onto the bed, laughing until she wheezed. “You didn’t!”

  “I did, I swear it!” Wynn smirked and grabbed the last honey tart off the plate. “Couldn’t even enjoy dinner without fearing he’d poison my meal.”

  Tamil looked up at her solemnly. “If he did, I would save you.”

  “I know ya would.” Wynn leaned forward and brushed her nose affectionately back and forth against Tamil’s. Without missing a beat, Tamil snatched the honey tart from her fingers and stuffed it into his mouth. Wynn jerked back, mouth agape. “Why ya little . . .”

  Mara fell back on her pillows and chortled. “He learned from the best.”

  “Wretched thief,” Wynn grumbled, but without heat. She was probably impressed with his ingenuity.

  Licking honey from his fingers, Tamil said, “If you want, we could poison the chef before he gets a chance to poison you . . . I’ve been practicing with Ethan.”

  “Don’t ya dare! That’d be a waste of a perfectly good Pistor. No one makes honey tarts like him.” Wynn stared wistfully at the empty plate.

  “You can’t eat honey tarts if you’re dead,” Mara pointed out. Not that it would stop her.

  Wynn sighed wistfully. “Some things are just worth the risk.”

  “You have the best stories,” Oona said. “The most exciting thing that happened to me this week was when another Avem’s eagle attacked Zeke.”

  Mara looked at her with concern. “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine, but he’ll need to rest his wings for a week while they heal. Now, I’m stuck working with a group of crows that are conspiring to kill me.”

  Mara choked on a toffee cookie, certain she’d misheard her. “They’re what?”

  “Oh, you should hear them gabbing away when they think I’m not listening. One keeps commenting about how eyeballs are the tastiest parts of a human.” She shuddered. “Makes me want to stay away from the
aviary altogether.”

  “You could come with me to the dreg encampment tomorrow. I need to make a delivery and Alex is busy.”

  “I’d love to!” Oona said with a genuine smile. Mara couldn’t believe how much she had changed over the past few weeks.

  Back in Stonehollow, Oona had despised her. No, despised was too mild a word. Loathed, hated, abhorred—more accurate for certain. But now? Calling them friends would be a stretch, but allies was a good start.

  It was a shame that it took the destruction of their home and families to bring them together.

  Both of Oona’s parents had died during the attack at Stonehollow. She tried to hide it, but she was drowning in grief. Mara reached out and took her hand. “Are you okay?”

  “No, but I will be. Once you kill that monster once and for all.”

  Mara nodded. She didn’t need to hear Oona say Cadmus’s name—they all knew the monster. He haunted their dreams. “I promise, we’ll have our revenge.”

  Wynn waved a cookie at them. “Get in line. If anyone’s gonna get revenge, it’s me.”

  Mara gave her a long, sympathetic look. Wynn’s entire adoptive family, including her fiancé and unborn baby, was murdered by the Order. Her face fell as she took them all in. Somehow, they had to find a way to beat Cadmus, but it felt impossible, like a worm fighting back against the bird who had it clasped in its beak.

  Without warning, Tamil launched himself from the bed and gasped. Mara followed, scanning the room for danger but finding none. The boy was mesmerized, drawn to the window. He stepped closer as though pulled by an invisible string until his palms pressed flat against the glass. Childlike wonder filled his face.

  Snowflakes fluttered down from the thick gray clouds that blanketed the city.

  Mara glanced between Tamil and the snow. She reached down and took his small hand in hers. “Follow me.”

  Wrapped in a fur-lined cloak to fend off winter’s chill, Mara and Tamil stepped hand in hand into the palace gardens. Snow dusted the rock path and evergreen trees, making it look like it was coated in powdered sugar. Tamil laughed, his breath condensing in puffs of white. He spun in a slow circle with his arms outstretched as if to catch the flakes. His eyes sparkled.