The negotiations with the Coastal Union took place on their territory—in a coastal city where the air smelled of salt and fish, and the gulls screamed so loudly you had to raise your voice.

  Lelya came with Radimir. For the first time in all her assignments, the Minister had decided to attend in person—and that was alarming.

  "Beor," Radimir said in the car on the way. "Remember that name. He's dangerous."

  "Dangerous how?"

  "Like a mage who worked as a mercenary for Citadel for three hundred years, then settled in the Coastal Union. He knows the methods of both sides. And he knows more about us than we'd like."

  "Why did he leave Citadel?"

  Radimir shrugged.

  "Official version—ideological differences. Unofficially... they say he botched some operation and was written off. But that's rumor."

  The negotiation room overlooked the harbor. Lelya could see fishing vessels darting between the breakwaters—small dots on the gray water.

  Beor entered exactly on time. Medium height, unremarkable appearance—the kind of person you forget immediately after meeting. Only his eyes stood out: pale blue, almost transparent, with an unpleasant piercing gaze.

  "Radimir," he nodded to the Minister. "And the young protégée. I've heard about you."

  ***

  The negotiations began in standard fashion. The Coastal Union wanted to increase the catch quota by twenty percent. Monolith objected, citing depleted fish stocks.

  Lelya listened, took notes. Radimir answered calmly, methodically deflecting arguments. So far everything was going according to plan.

  And then Beor pulled a new document from his folder.

  "A study from an independent laboratory," he announced. "It turns out Monolith has been systematically underestimating fish population assessments in our sector. The actual stocks are twice as high."

  Lelya quickly scanned the copy they passed her. Unfamiliar logo. Data formatted impeccably—signatures, seals, graphs. But something didn't add up.

  "When was this study conducted?" she asked.

  Beor turned to her.

  "April of this year. It's all in the document."

  "April." Lelya found the relevant page. "Cod spawning season. When the population gathers at spawning grounds and density naturally increases."

  "So what?"

  "If I go to a wedding and count the guests, it doesn't mean that's how many people live in the city." She looked him in the eye. "Your study is methodologically flawed. Any expert would confirm that."

  Beor smiled—coldly, with just his lips.

  "The methodology was approved by the Coastal Union commission."

  "Your internal commission." Lelya didn't look away. "Not an independent audit. Not the World Council. You gave yourselves a certificate."

  "Girl, you're overstepping."

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Radimir placed his hand on the table—a calm, warning gesture.

  "My assistant is asking reasonable questions. If your study is sound, you wouldn't object to a repeat verification? Say, in October, when the fish are evenly distributed?"

  ***

  Silence hung in the room. Beor looked at Lelya, and in his transparent eyes something flickered—either anger or respect.

  "Fine," he said at last. "A repeat study. In October."

  Lelya didn't have time to relax.

  The negotiation room door burst open. Three men rushed in—in black, their faces covered by masks. The first lunged at Radimir, the second at the guard by the door, the third at Lelya.

  Everything happened in seconds.

  Lelya saw the glint of metal—a knife aimed at her throat. Her body reacted before her mind could process the danger. She recoiled, caught the attacker's arm, twisted—a crack, a scream—and he collapsed to the floor.

  A shifter. She was a shifter. The strength and speed she had barely begun to master in training had kicked in on their own.

  Radimir had already dealt with his attacker—that one lay against the wall, not moving. The guard was struggling with the third.

  "We're leaving!" Radimir shouted.

  Lelya bolted for the door, but the attacker she had taken down suddenly grabbed her ankle. She fell, hitting her shoulder on the floor, and pain shot through her whole body.

  A masked face loomed over her. The glint of a knife. She kicked—hit the knee, heard a crack.

  Then someone's hands grabbed her and dragged her toward the exit.

  ***

  They sat in the car—Radimir driving, Lelya in the back seat. Her shoulder pulsed with pain, but the bones were intact.

  "What was that?" she breathed.

  "A message." Radimir drove fast, not looking back. "You stepped on someone's interests. Someone decided to show you you're vulnerable."

  "Beor?"

  "Maybe. Or his masters in Citadel. Or someone else entirely." He swerved sharply onto a side street. "We'll figure it out later. Right now the main thing is getting out."

  Lelya leaned against the seat back. Her hands were still shaking from the adrenaline.

  She remembered Radimir's words: "Sooner or later, someone will try to stop you."

  It seemed that had happened sooner than she'd thought.

  They reached the Alnar of Monolith by nightfall. Lelya spent three hours in the medical wing—they healed her bruises, checked for poisoning (the knives were clean), gave her a sedative.

  She refused to take it.

  "I want to know what's happening," she said to Radimir when he came to check on her. "Who attacked us?"

  "We're finding out."

  "That's not an answer."

  Radimir sat on the edge of the bed. He looked tired—deep shadows under his eyes, a tense line in his jaw.

  "The three attackers were mercenaries. Humans, not mages. They were hired through an intermediary; the trail ends in Citadel." He paused. "But that's not the main thing."

  "What is the main thing?"

  "The main thing is that someone knew our route. Knew we would be in that exact negotiation room, at that exact time. That means a leak from the inside."

  Lelya felt cold creeping down her spine.

  "A traitor in the Alnar?"

  "Possibly. Or someone hacked our communications. Or..." Radimir didn't finish. "We'll figure it out."

  ***

  The next day Lelya went back to work. Her shoulder still ached, but she wasn't about to sit around in the medical wing.

  A letter was waiting in her office. A plain white envelope, no return address. Inside—one line, printed:

  "Next time we won't miss."

  Lelya stared at the paper for a long time. Then she carefully folded it, put it in her desk drawer, and got to work.

  The fear hadn't gone anywhere—it sat somewhere inside, cold and heavy. But next to it was something else. Something she hadn't expected.

  Anger.

  ***

  A week later, negotiations with the Coastal Union resumed. This time—on neutral territory, with reinforced security on both sides.

  Beor was there again. Just as unremarkable, with the same piercing gaze.

  "Glad you survived," he said when they were left alone during a break.

  "Did you arrange that?"

  "Me?" He smiled. "No. But I know who did. And I can help you find them."

  "At what price?"

  "Information." He lowered his voice. "You're talented. Too talented to work for Radimir. He's a good minister, but he's not a leader. And you could be."

  Lelya looked at him, trying to understand if this was a game or sincerity.

  "What do you want from me?"

  "Nothing for now. Just remember that I made the offer."

  He walked back to his delegation, leaving her alone.

  ***

  The negotiations ended in a draw. The repeat study was scheduled for October. The quota question was postponed until new data came in.

  On the way back, Lelya sat in the car and thought. About the attack. About the letter. About Beor and his offer. About Dragomir, who was killed outside a theater.

  Three months ago she had been a student.

  Now she was being hunted.

  Strangely, it wasn't as frightening as it should have been. The fear was there—but next to it burned something bright and fierce.

  She wasn't going to back down.

  Her phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number:

  "You held up well. Keep it up. V."

  Lelya reread the message three times. "V."—Varvara? Or someone else?

  Outside the window, forests flashed by, and she suddenly realized she was smiling.

  The game had only just begun.