The Mercenaries of the Stolen Moon Read online

  Table of Contents

  The Mercenaries of the Stolen Moon

  Book Details

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  About the Author

  Coming Soon – The Final Tale of the High Court

  The

  Mercenaries

  of the

  Stolen Moon

  TALES OF THE HIGH COURT 4

  MEGAN DERR

  For twenty years Myra has served the High King, so familiar, respected, and envied the rest of the palace calls him the High Secretary. For twenty years he has kept his secrets buried, and after so long, he dares to believe he has left his past behind. Then during the Festival of Harmony, tragedy strikes, and Myra's past is dragged into the present.

  Once third in command of Fathoms Deep, Charlaine is used to shadows and secrets, but even he is shocked to learn what his best friend, and the man he secretly loves, has been hiding all these years. In the wake of a terrible tragedy, he doesn't know what to do—except whatever it takes to help his friends.

  Though Jac is a member of the Three-headed Dragons and primary bodyguard to the High Consort, she is used to being overlooked and underestimated. But she didn't earn her spurs by backing down, and she's not about to do so now—even if she must defy the High Throne itself to save the man she's falling in love with.

  The Mercenaries of the Stolen Moon

  Tales of the High Court #4

  By Megan Derr

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Samantha M. Derr

  Cover designed by John Coulthart

  http://www.johncoulthart.com/

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  First Edition November 2018

  Copyright © 2018 by Megan Derr

  Printed in the United States of America

  Digital ISBN 9781684313860

  Print ISBN 9781684314331

  To the immigrants, who should be made welcome in whatever place they seek to call home

  Special thanks, and all my love, to A.M. Valenza, who has edited these past two books in ways no one else could, and made them better than they ever would have been otherwise.

  Chapter One

  Twenty years ago, Myra killed a man. It was, on the surface, a simple if brutal action, but it resulted in several things: saved the life of the High King, ended Myra's time in the imperial army, and set him on the path to becoming Imperial Head Secretary. It was not a life he'd ever imagined for himself, but it was a life he loved.

  He'd hoped to never kill another person after that day, but if Sarrica forced him to change the day's schedule one. More. Time. Myra would face execution for murder of the High King without a second of regret. There was work to be done, and Sarrica's inability to stick to a schedule was ruining any chance of getting it done.

  Of course, such a long, prominent presence had earned Myra a reputation. Most of the palace—residents, staff, and military—called him High Secretary behind his back, and not in a respectful tone. Myra didn't give a damn. He'd fought hard for his life, and if that was the worst he had to endure because of it, he was grateful.

  "It must be bad if you're showing your irritation."

  Myra looked up from the headache that was the master schedule, flicking back the braid that had snaked over his shoulder. Piru, his best and favorite undersecretary, smiled, yellow-brown eyes bright with mirth. Without Piru and Corrint, the clerk in charge of the antechamber, to help run the imperial office, Myra would have lost his mind a long time ago. "I will be glad to fall into bed tonight, that's for certain."

  Piru snickered. "Even the Pantheon would be exhausted doing just half your job. And it's only going to get worse in two days, not including today."

  "Don't remind me," Myra muttered as he looked back down at the chart that laid out where and when Sarrica and Allen were each day. He had the charts filled as far out as a year, with copious notes in an accompanying notebook for things even further out that would be added later on, and spent hours each day adjusting them and filling out new ones. Maintaining the schedule was nearly a full-time job on its own, and he was also in charge of all the paperwork that went through the imperial office: sorting, delegating, hunting down Sarrica to make him sign it and about a hundred other things. He had ten undersecretaries, eight clerks in the antechamber, plus a fleet of messengers, and still the place was always three steps away from collapsing into chaos.

  Mostly because Sarrica forced him to change the schedule practically every hour.

  He bit back a groan of frustration as he looked over the schedule for anything that would let him untangle this latest snarl. The last thing he needed was some stiff, pompous delegate from Treya Mencee getting offended at a breach of protocol—never mind all the protocol they'd broken a few years ago when Lord Lesto had been kidnapped. Kin del Kar…well, if Treyans were pompous and expected everyone to follow protocol to the very letter, and Harkens were nosy and flummoxed by people who didn't want to know everything about everyone, Kinnish were apathetic and overly casual. This left all three parties constantly frustrated with one another.

  Myra sighed as he finally saw a way to adjust the schedule to both appease Treya Mencee and finally squeeze in the meeting with Kin del Kar—and in time for both Allen and Sarrica to attend dinner like they wanted, so Allen could spend more time with his eldest brother, Crown Prince Larren of Gaulden. Unfortunately, that meant Myra would have to give Allen the new Kin del Kar contracts after dinner, which meant he needed to find time to do them, since they were too high a security to be given to an undersecretary. Myra had intended to start them tomorrow, once the festival schedule was off his hands, but that was clearly no longer an option.

  Of course, all of this would be a good deal less stressful if he'd been able to hand over the final schedule last week as he was supposed to, instead of three days before the festival began.

  These latest changes also meant no lunch break, and probably dinner at his desk or after he was finished with the contracts.

  If someone else wanted to be Head Secretary, right then would have been the perfect time to persuade Myra to retire.

  He swiftly wrote out the revised schedules on slips of paper, sealed them and sent them off with clerks to be delivered to Allen and Sarrica. That done, he returned to the task he'd been trying to accomplish all day so he could finally be done and move on to the Kin del Kar contracts. The Kinnish might be relaxed in manner, but that didn't mean they slouched on business matters. If the contracts weren't perfect, they'd complain.

  But before the contracts, his primary task was the final schedule for the Festival of Harmony—the hundredth celebration no less, which was even more fun than the Harmony usually was, which was no fun at all when it came to the organizing. Thankfully, once this schedule was finalized, it was highly unlikely to change again, given the festival was only days away. Large portions of it relied heavily on the Hi
gh King and Consort being where and when the schedule said they would be.

  The whole affair gave Fathoms Deep hives trying to oversee the security, but that wasn't Myra's problem. His problem was merging where Sarrica and Allen had to be, together and separately, with what each of them disliked and favored, and coordinating all of that with the various guests and such they should or wanted to spend time with.

  The High King and Consort were expected to attend all the major performances together—dancers, singers, mock battles, and more. Then they split up to attend smaller events. Sarrica generally attended various arms competitions, while Allen spent most of his time judging events like food and drink contests. If it involved children, Sarrica was adamant about attending, and Allen always paid favor to the many businesses and entertainers invited to participate.

  Reading over the list of events one last time, Myra started marking out the non-negotiable ones. Most of them fell to Allen, but that pleased both Sarrica and Allen—and everyone else. That was the easy part. Next was all the optional stuff, which had to be balanced with the wants of various nobles and foreign dignitaries. At least Allen had given him detailed notes.

  Even better, both Sarrica and Allen were out of the way for a couple of hours. All Myra's undersecretaries had been drowned in work so they'd stay out of his way as well. Myra had a three-hour span to get the festival schedule done—which meant he really had approximately twenty minutes, because that was the record on successfully stolen free time.

  He was just starting to pencil in the optional events when a warm, familiar, always-welcome laugh broke his concentration and made his heart lurch.

  Myra looked up and smiled at his best friend: handsome, quiet, and deceptively mild-mannered Charlaine Astor. Only months ago Charlaine had still been wearing the teal of Fathoms Deep, Sarrica's personal guard headed by Lord Lesto, which he'd been a part of for as long as Myra had known him—which was mere days after he'd saved Sarrica's life.

  Now, however, Charlaine wore the blue and gray tunic of Shattered Wind, having transferred in order to resume his duties as Lord Kamir's bodyguard, since Shattered Wind had become the unofficial personal guard of High Commander Jader.

  Charlaine was tall, broad but not enormous, with light brown skin and black hair that was beginning to grow out for the first time in at least ten years. Myra was glad. He'd always hated that Charlaine kept it shaved close, even if that made the most sense for a soldier. The left side of his face had a nasty scar cutting down the length of it, and that eye had been left a filmy white by the same poisoned blade. "Merry morning, Lieutenant."

  "You're looking remarkably stressed for so early in the day."

  Myra gave a brittle laugh. "You're the second person to say so—must be bad. The Festival of Harmony is in three days. Don't I always look this way by this point? Nevermind the Crown Prince of Gaulden is in residence, and he's only the top of a very long list of important guests." He smiled. "What brings you here, when normally you know to avoid me this close to the festival? Without Lord Kamir, even."

  Charlaine smiled faintly as he always did when Kamir was mentioned. Charlaine did not make friends lightly or give loyalty easily, but once he did, very little could break those bonds.

  Myra and Charlaine had met not long after Myra had become part of Sarrica's secretarial pool. Charlaine had been a trusted runner for classified information between Sarrica and Fathoms Deep, and Myra had somehow become the secretary he worked with most—and then exclusively, as Sarrica trusted Myra more and more and Charlaine climbed his way steadily from runner to the shadowy third in command of Fathoms Deep.

  All these years later, Myra still didn't feel he deserved a friend like Charlaine—but he would treasure their friendship until the day he died. "Kamir won't be leaving their suite anytime soon, not with the baby so recently born. The Commander told me to take a few well-earned days off and not to return to duty until after the festival."

  "You? Days off? Plural? In a row?"

  Charlaine made a face. "Yes, it's strange, but I am trying. Not that you have much room to talk."

  "Maybe not, though Piru is practically ready to run the office himself, so I may get more days off in the future. All that's left for him to learn, really, is to boss Sarrica around."

  "Oh, is that all?"

  Myra snickered. "So you still have not told me why you are here, though I'm not complaining. I always enjoy visits from people who aren't going to give me more work to do."

  "In an effort to do less work and more fun, I came to see if there was any chance you'd be available for dinner tonight, since we haven't done that in months."

  "That sounds wonderful, but I doubt it will be possible," Myra replied with a sigh. "Unless the whole rest of my day goes according to plan and there are no further imperial interruptions."

  Charlaine laughed loudly enough to startle a couple of nearby secretaries. "Well, I'll figure something out. I hope you'll at least keep me company for a day or two of the festival."

  "I'll be free for the whole three days, barring disaster," Myra replied. He laughed at Charlaine's expression. "I know, we both have the same days off. The gods are being kind or mischievous. I've had to work during the festival for the past five years. I told His Majesty I wanted off this year or else." That drew another laugh, and Myra smiled. "Now take your pretty face somewhere else, Charlaine, so I can get back to work and maybe actually have time for dinner."

  Charlaine swept him a courtly bow, to the snickers of various undersecretaries, and left with a parting wink.

  Myra returned reluctantly to his work, pushing aside wistful thoughts of Charlaine, dinner, wine and nowhere either of them had to be. Thankfully, he was only interrupted by his undersecretaries occasionally to ask a question or clarify an assignment. By the time they all began to take their lunch breaks, and the office quieted down for a short time, Myra had the final festival schedule drafted and ready for final approval.

  He put it aside, glanced at the little clock on his desk that had been a birthday present to himself five years ago, and rang for one of the clerks in the antechamber to have tea brought.

  The tea arrived just moments before Sarrica blazed into the room, a brilliant sun that could burn and blind, but most often warmed and brightened. "Myra, cancel my meeting with Treya Mencee. I am going—"

  "To attend that meeting," came Allen's cool, faintly amused voice as he stepped more sedately into the office. If Sarrica was searing sunlight, Allen was cool shade: relieving, refreshing, but only fools thought being in the shade meant they were safe from the heat.

  Right behind Allen came Jac, his bodyguard, as fierce and pretty as ever.

  Myra's heart gave another unwelcome lurch.

  He'd always paid attention to the various persons who wandered in and out of the imperial offices—especially anyone who looked out of place or could be a serious threat, like the endless parade of soldiers. Jac had stood out because the first time he'd ever seen her, she'd been beaten nearly to death, held up by two soldiers, and had used the last of her strength to relay information about the Three-headed Dragons and a traitor in the palace before passing out.

  Sarrica had departed with Fathoms Deep shortly thereafter to rescue Allen, and Myra had taken it upon himself to check on Jac from time to time—discreetly of course. He hadn't wanted to trouble her, and she'd had friends aplenty coming and going once she was fit enough for them. When he was content she was, or at least would be, well, he'd faded off.

  He hadn't expected her to reappear as Allen's personal bodyguard, given she was part of the Dragons rather than Fathoms Deep, and young for an imperial bodyguard. At that point, he'd paid close attention out of habit, the way he did anyone new to the imperial offices. It had taken less than a minute to establish she belonged entirely to Allen and could not be bought or blackmailed. Normally, that was where Myra's interest in the matter would have ended. He was a secretary, nothing more. But Jac…

  She'd seemed adrift one day, after S
arrica and Allen had vanished into the private office to finish an argument. Myra had been sick of work and happy for a distraction and struck up a conversation. He hadn't expected anything to come of it save that he'd become more familiar with someone who'd be a permanent fixture in the office for the foreseeable future.

  But one conversation had turned into several, whenever there was a lull that allowed it. On the surface, Jac was quiet, innocuous, easily overlooked by most—a perfect bodyguard, despite the occasional unkind comments Myra heard about her age and background.

  Her carefully crafted innocuousness was only that, however—crafted. Looking past it revealed a captivating woman who was far too easy to look at, admire, and want.

  The few idle moments of conversation he'd anticipated had instead wound up being the start of a friendly acquaintance and a hopeless desire for much, much more. Hopeless because Jac was at least a decade younger than him, and that aside, who wanted to get into a relationship with a man who could barely find time to have dinner, let alone spend significant time with another person?

  All his friendships were wrapped up in work, and he rarely saw any of those persons outside of work. Charlaine was the only exception, the sole friend who understood and was willing to make the best out of whatever time they could manage.

  For better or worse, Myra and Charlaine had chosen to focus on their careers. Myra didn't regret that choice, and to his knowledge, neither did Charlaine, but he was looking forward to Piru being fully trained so he could take more time off. If Sarrica could split his workload with someone and manage to have a touch more free time, why couldn't his primary secretary?

  At least Myra was long-used to admiring from afar. Stifling another sigh, he dragged his eyes back to his paperwork, listening with half an ear to the bickering between king and consort.

  "I am doing no such thing," Sarrica said. "I am long past tired of enduring those Pantheon-damned bastards and their attitude problems. When they show you proper deference, I'll meet with them. It would behoove them to remember they are the reason for the lost accord between us, and it does not help their cause that they constantly demand I essentially forget how they murdered the crew and passengers of an entire ship, kidnapped Lesto and almost murdered Shemal—amongst other crimes. Nevermind this most recent debacle with Kin del Kar and trying to regain the sugar contracts they lost and the ongoing matter of slavery they keep expecting everyone to overlook. Until they cease to act like cretins, Myra, I want all meetings and meals currently scheduled to be canceled, and nothing else is to be scheduled until I say otherwise."