There was silence for a few seconds. “Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous. You think I would do that after all my work? After all of Matteo’s work?”
Kara could only hear the sound of her own breathing, and then the voice said, “We have an asset. She won’t be a problem, and no, I’m not giving Novem an inch. They don’t usually slip up. We have to make this count.”
There was silence again, and then the woman hissed something at whoever she was talking to, but it wasn’t in Common. Kara only caught the end. "...e si dar errá, é tudo pr’ tu."
Portilian. It was a combination of ancient Earth-based Portuguese and planetary colonial languages. Essentially, “And if it goes wrong, it’s all on you.” There were a few more murmured words that Kara didn’t catch and then silence.
None of this sounded good. Her most recent experiences and the words together painted a dismal picture. It seemed that she had found whoever was giving the orders when it came to burning down her building and kidnapping her. But one thing was certain: if the asset Siera mentioned was her, Siera was in for a surprise, because Kara certainly didn’t intend to cooperate.
Kara heard muffled footsteps and jerked back from the door. It swung open a few seconds later. The woman on the other side, Siera, Kara assumed, had dark chocolate brown hair and looked to be in her mid-decades. She wore a formal Taregian lounging robe. Either that was tradition, and this woman’s family had been in power for centuries, or she wanted to look like it. Taregia had been the capital of the Portilian colonial planets.
Siera pulled the door open wide and gestured for Kara to enter. The room beyond was a spacious office. A large cherry-wood desk stood opposite the door, with bookshelves lining the walls. Kara stepped onto an intricate rug that stretched all the way to a grand Fourth-Era fireplace where flames danced across a mosaic of stone. The dark woods were offset by sunlight streaming through a back wall that was made nearly entirely of glass. All in all, the effect was striking.
Siera turned and walked toward the desk, studying Kara like she was evaluating an equation with too many unknowns. “Welcome to my temporary home, Dr. Tanel.”
“You don’t normally live here?” Kara asked.
Siera adjusted a page on the desk. “No. It belonged to my sister, but she passed away.”
And they just left it empty? This place was massive. “Who are you?” Kara asked.
Siera tilted her head like she was considering whether or not to answer the question. Finally, she said, “My name is Siera da Silva.”
The name hit like a dropped weight. Kara didn’t move, didn’t speak. Her pulse pounded in her ears. First Novem. Now the da Silvas. “I assume you are one of the Clan leaders?”
Siera inclined her head. “It’s a big organization, but I am on the council.”
Kara shivered. If that was true, this woman was one of the most powerful people on Aralin at the moment.
Kara almost shifted on her feet, but instead stood firmly, forcing herself to hold Siera’s gaze. “What do you want from me?”
Siera’s lips twitched into a half-smile. “Very direct. I like that. Truthfully? I’m here to give you information. Information that you’ve probably been looking for.”
“And you had to kidnap me to do that?” Kara asked bluntly.
Siera smoothed a wrinkle on one of her sleeves. “I think, after I explain, you’ll find that I have, in fact, pulled you out of a very dangerous situation.”
“Right,” Kara said, letting out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Because breaking into my office, burning it down, and knocking me unconscious was all for my benefit?”
Siera clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “I don’t know about what happened at your office, but I do apologize for the—let’s say—rough handling. I admit things could have been handled more gracefully.” She perched against the desk, crossing her arms. “Come now, Dr. Tanel, do you really think Novem was going to let you walk away? After everything you’ve seen?”
Kara stiffened.
“They gave you those pages to translate, but they never let you out of their sight, did they?” Siera paused, watching Kara’s reaction. “That Davorn boy was always there, wasn’t he? My guess is that you even suggested splitting up at some point, and he refused. Why do you think that is?”
Kara opened her mouth to argue, but… that was exactly what had happened. Teorin had insisted they stick together, and when she refused to go into the woods, he stayed. He’d said it was to protect her.
It had been. Right?
Siera’s voice was gentle but unrelenting. “They never planned to let you go, Kara. You were useful, but after that? You would have been a liability.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Kara swallowed. That was uncomfortably close to the fear she had admitted to Lev.
Siera let the silence stretch for a moment before continuing, her tone shifting. “I know you don’t trust me. You shouldn’t. Not yet. But understand this: I am not your enemy. I’ve been fighting Novem’s grip on this planet for years, and I’ve lost people, people I loved, because of it.”
Siera looked away for a second, just long enough for Kara to wonder if the emotion was real. She drew in a long breath, then continued more quietly. “This isn’t just about power plays or secrets. This is about survival.”
Kara frowned. “Survival? That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?”
"I used to think so too,” Siera said with a sharp exhale. “Until my sister died."
The silence was deafening for a moment. "What happened?"
Siera hesitated, then stood and walked to the window. “Catia was married to a man who worked for Novem, the head of their special projects division. They were supposed to be headed to a meeting here in Therina. The plane went down, Novem’s plane. They never came back.” Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Novem said it was an unfortunate accident. That’s all they gave us—no details, no investigation. Just a quiet funeral, and my niece left without parents.”
Kara wasn’t sure what to say to that. A tragedy, yes, but accidents happened. What made this different?
Siera turned back toward her. “It was reported as a malfunction, one of those freak technical failures no one sees coming. But my family… we looked deeper. Quietly.”
Kara's breath caught. “I’m assuming you found something?”
Siera’s face was unreadable. “Evidence of tampering. Sabotage.”
Kara’s stomach dropped. “And you didn’t say anything? Didn’t go public?”
Siera let out a humorless laugh. “Of course not. We weren’t going to hand Novem the proof that we knew. That would’ve been a death sentence.”
Kara stared at her. “You think Novem was behind it?”
Siera’s voice hardened. “I know they were.” She stepped closer. “Catia’s husband, Jace… He was valuable to them. He’d given us information. Things they didn’t want us to know. And then, suddenly, he and his family were gone.”
Kara felt cold creep up her spine.
“We had no way to prove it publicly, and making accusations without evidence? That would have just gotten more people killed.” Siera’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So, we stayed silent. We waited. We watched.”
There was something terrifying about that level of control. The da Silvas had buried their grief, their fury, and just… waited. But also, no way to prove it publicly? Either it was circumstantial evidence, or the da Silvas had just as much they wanted to keep hidden as Novem did.
Siera met Kara’s eyes. “I don’t expect you to trust me, but I need you to understand. I’m not doing this for power. I’m doing this because if we let Novem keep covering up their crimes, more people are going to die.”
There were holes in Siera’s story. Kara wanted to push back, but the problem was, even if she was hiding things, a lot of it made sense. Too much sense.
Kara swallowed. “And what exactly do you want from me?”
Siera’s lips quirked slightly. “I want to know what you know. I want you to help me understand what Novem is hiding. And maybe, save yourself before you become another one of their secrets.”
Kara let out a slow breath, forcing herself to stay calm. Siera was skilled—too skilled. Her words felt deliberate, and her story was polished enough to be convincing. But she’d learned long ago in academia, polished didn’t always mean false.
“You have a point,” Kara said, crossing her arms. “But I’m going to need more evidence.”
To her surprise, Siera’s lips curled into something that looked almost pleased. “Good. That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”
Kara frowned. “What?”
Siera pushed off the desk and gestured toward the door. “Come. I’ll show you what we’ve uncovered.”
Kara hesitated before following. If nothing else, she needed more information, and Siera clearly wanted to give it to her. The woman led her through the dimly lit halls, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting.
“You should know,” Siera said casually, “your brother is alive.”
Kara nearly stopped walking. “What?”
She’d wondered in the dark recesses of her imagination what had become of Lev. Truthfully, she’d been worrying constantly in the back of her mind.
Siera glanced at her, expression unreadable. “He’s injured, but he survived.”
“What happened?” Kara said, panic breaking through her voice slightly.
Siera exhaled through her nose. “The Ribeiros happened. They weren’t just after you. The moment we made a move, they did too. I assume Novem was their target, but your brother got caught in the middle. A mercenary put him down hard. A heatsinger. I don’t know the extent of his injuries, but I know he was still alive when Novem got to him.”
A heatsinger. Her breath hitched. That usually meant skin-to-skin. Lev’s body stored touch like memory. And this one would burn.
Kara's fists clenched at her sides. Lev was hurt. She had been unconscious while her brother had been—what? Fighting? Running? Burning? She could hear it in her mind. His voice, ragged. His inflection whenever things went wrong. When he desperately needed her. She swallowed down the sick feeling rising in her throat.
Maybe this was just to throw her off. To distract her. “You’re lying,” Kara said automatically.
Siera merely shrugged. “Believe what you want. But if you ask yourself honestly—if you think about what you know of the Ribeiros and how they handle things—what does your gut tell you?”
Kara wanted to argue. Wanted to say that Siera was manipulating her. But the Ribeiros were reckless and known for their brutality. If they’d been desperate, it was entirely possible they wouldn’t care who was in their way.
“Can I contact him?” Kara asked, voice tight. She just needed to hear his voice. To know he was okay.
Siera sighed, shaking her head. “That’s not a good idea, I’m afraid. Novem will be watching him, especially now. If they think you’re here working with us of their own accord, it will change their entire approach. You need to be careful.”
Kara hated that she couldn’t immediately dismiss Siera’s words. She had told Lev things. Things Novem would never have wanted him to know. If they realized that, they might decide he was a liability.
Memory surged. Lev’s voice, cracking with panic, echoing in her ears—terrified at the thought of being detained without her. Just last night.
Oh stars. Lev… he couldn’t be alone like that. Not without family around. Maybe, right now, they still thought he was harmless. Maybe they’d even let him go, but if she tried to contact him—if Novem thought she’d betrayed them—what would they do to him?
She wanted to believe they wouldn’t hurt him. But what if she was wrong? If she stayed hidden, off the map, would they let him go? Would they let him fly home to Mom?
“If we get an opportunity to send a message safely, I’ll let you know,” Siera added.
Kara clenched her teeth but nodded. She didn’t like that answer, but there wasn’t anything she could actually do for Lev right now. “Fine. Show me your evidence.”
Kara followed, unease tightening in her chest. Whatever came next, she had the feeling she wouldn’t be able to walk away from it easily.
Siera smirked slightly and opened a door. "Welcome to the archives.”
not a creative-writing program. They responded with a form titled “Royal Road Writathon.”
Daughter of Two Worlds. You may regard it as an educational study in cross-dimensional storytelling, if you must regard it at all.
Archivist
Department of Reconstruction
[Lev] Finally! Something around here with kissing instead of classified murder reports.
[Archivist] Lev, you are not assigned to this project.
[Lev] Consider me an unofficial cultural liaison. Someone has to make sure the under-archivists understand proper romantic pacing.
[Archivist] You will do no such thing.
[Lev] Too late, I’ve already followed it. Everyone else should too, purely for comparative research, of course.
[Archivist] This is why we can’t have cross-departmental grants.
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