This new land was supposed to promise hope.

But as their ship neared the harbor, the circling harpies painted a different picture entirely.

They wore their finery and precious gems, as though to remind all those entering the grand harbor that they were only here because of charity.

The whispers and rumors about the kingdom of peacekeepers were false. He could see it in the gawking masses. The only reason there was any sort of peace in this blasted kingdom was frivolous dinner parties and unspoken threats.

The vultures and harpies flocked, pointed noses and beady eyes searching for a sign of weakness.

Oh, he’d give them some thing to look at.

His father’s grip tightened on his arm, warning. “Do not act rashly, boy. There will be no place to hide.”

Gritting his teeth, he allowed his father to pull him away from the edge of the deck.

If they were to get a position on the palace staff, he’d need to hold his tongue.

Stepping into the cradle of the eastern empire brought him no sense of hope.

Aristocrats sniffed disdainfully as they passed, not even bothering to offer them any sort of work. None of these harpies would want a servant with only one working hand.

Other passengers gave them a wide berth, having learned on the voyage just how easy it was to rile the young one handed man into a fight. They hadn’t come looking for trouble.

He certainly had, but a life of flavor wasn’t meant for the weak of heart.

A loud clattering of hooves on stone drew every eye on the harbor, each harpy straightening and preening.

The royal carriage was decorated lavishly, but the king and queen outshone it by far.

“I welcome you to Argal, and offer my deepest sympathies for your people.” Voice carrying like a battle drum, King Elvarte stood before the sea of refugees and aristocrats like a commander. His midnight black hair marked him as the heir to his parent’s throne, and made him the spitting image of his slimy father. The crown of Verrin heritage rested on his brow, as though the circlet belonged to his people.

Then the Queen of Argal stood. “People of Verris.” The harbor fell silent. “Our people have suffered much under cruel tyranny, but here in our sister nation you are promised protection.” Queen Enthri spoke with the Verrin accent, her golden eyes a testament of her bloodline. She was beautiful.

His father pulled him away, out of the watchful eyes of guards and nobles. “Come, Daven.”

But he couldn’t put much thought into his father’s directions as he locked gazes with Queen Enthri.

And then she was gone, the sounds and smells of the harbor lingering still after them even as they made their way through twisting streets.

The crown of Verris was their mission.

Daven just worried that the queen had gotten there first.