Page 62 of A Rose Among Snakes

The moon was rising low over the ocean, yellow and full, casting an eerie light across the landscape. Velian stood beside me staring out at the waves. The sound soothed my raging thoughts, and I felt the shock ebbing away.

“Mihrra, I'm begging you to hear me out.”

I pressed my lips together and nodded.

He loosed a breath and launched into his story. “My grandfather, Velmar, had been smuggling it throughout the country for years, making a fortune from it. He wanted better access, and Port Deering was in such dire conditions that he swooped in like a hero and started cleaning up the town. No one knew what he was really doing, and they loved him for all the help he was providing. Our front has always been that we are a family of businessmen, and we make our money by investing in local businesses, but it’s a lie. Most of our money comes from Ziffem.”

My stomach roiled, but I kept my mouth shut.

“My father took over the business after my grandfather died and struck a deal with the king. Leoro would stop taxing my father on all fronts and the king would get a cut of the Ziffem profits. So, the more his subjects buy, the more money he makes. He says it’s outlawed, but he’s the one pumping it into the towns and villages. We are the biggest suppliers and Leoro wants to keep it that way. So he continues pocketing money for himself.”

My jaw hung open, stunned by the truth. Velian spoke so quickly, the words falling out of his mouth like he had been bursting to tell someone. It was difficult for me to wrap my mind around the King’s involvement. He was beloved by so many, but he was poisoning them and profiting off their pain.

“So, when we were in Clavo,” my voice was barely above a whisper, “did you sell some to the stable boy? And the stop we made—you were making a delivery?”

Velian hung his head. “Yes.” He turned toward me, reaching a hand out, then as if thinking better of it, dropped it back to his side. “Because of the deal my father made, I had no choice but to continue the work. Leoro has threatened to kill me if I don’t, and I couldn’t do that to Kezara. She would have no one if I died, so I keep at it, even though I hate it." His hands curled into fists and a muscle feathered in his jaw. "I hate everything about it, and I hate myself for continuing the devastation to the people of Terrune.”

It was an impossible situation for him, and more bricks jumped loose from the wall I’d built around my heart, thefoundation shaking. It was ready to topple over until I remembered Jehiam, and how it felt to drag his limp body across the ground.

Eyes welling with tears, I shoved those bricks back into place and gritted my teeth. “My brother almost died from Ziffem. You’re telling me that was your fault?”

Velian looked at me, a pained expression on his face. “I’m the one that brings it into Terrune, so in a roundabout way, yes, it’s my fault.” He held my stare, his flaring nostrils the only betrayal of the effort that took.

The tears slipped out, and I faced the ocean, unable to bear the weight of his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Mihrra. I’m so sorry for all of the hurt I’ve caused you.”

His words brought another question to mind, and I turned again to look him square in the face. “Velian, who is Goranos Novenna?”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Mihrra

“How do you know that name?” Velian frowned, cocking his head to the side.

“Just tell me who he is,” I demanded.

One furrowed brow lifted. “You went through my records?”

I leveled him with a hardened stare.

“I can’t blame you, I guess.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Goranos Novenna… he was our Enforcer back when my father was still in charge.”

“What does that mean? What is an Enforcer?”

“When delivering a shipment, we normally run into bandits that want to steal the Ziffem, like in Canderren. An Enforcer is our most intimidating man, and his job is to protect the shipment at all costs. My father used them for more than protection though. Goranos, or Gory as he was known, was my father’s preferred man to hire. He was the one called to threaten the people who owed money. Sometimes my father used him as an executioner, even. He earned the nickname ‘Gory’ because of his brutal reputation. Often, mentioning his name alone got the results my father was after.”

Nausea surged through me as the blood drained from my face. I swayed on my feet, feeling faint, and Velian grabbed my elbow to steady me. I jerked my arm away.

Hurt flashed in his eyes, but as I stumbled he grabbed me again, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Stars danced in my vision and I tried to blink them away, blood rushing through my ears. I no longer resisted as Velian guided me to the sand. We sat there in silence as I took deep, calming breaths.

Feeling better, I cleared my throat and asked, “Could he have had another name?”

“Like what?” He sat close to me, our knees touching, his hand still resting on my arm.

“Gorham Nowen.”

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