Traitor's Moon

those delegations, taking their ease while their elders attended the council.
    Nyal approached them with his usual openness, but Kheeta hung back warily.
    â€œNyal í Nhekai!” called a Lhapnosan youth. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you, my friend. Come join us.”
    His welcoming smile died, however, at sight of Alec and the others. Getting to his feet, the Lhapnosan let one hand rest near the hilt of the knife in his belt. Several of his companions did the same.
    â€œBut I forgot,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You’re not keeping the best company these days.”
    â€œHe certainly isn’t,” one of the swimmers remarked, climbing from the pool. He strode up to them, his face set in a disdainful frown.
    Alec tensed, recognizing him by the dragon bite on his chin. This was no servant. He’d been with the Haman khirnari last night at the Silmai banquet.
    The Haman stood a moment, eyeing them with distaste. “A Bôkthersan, a Tírfaie.” His gaze came to rest on Alec. “And the Exile’s
garshil ke’menios.”
    Alec understood only half the phrase—
garshil
meant “mongrel”—but that and the Haman’s tone left no doubt that it was a calculated insult.
    â€œThis is Emiel í Moranthi of Haman, the khirnari’s nephew,” Nyal warned in Skalan.
    â€œI know who he is,” said Alec, keeping his tone neutral, as if he hadn’t understood the insult.
    Kheeta had no such reservations. “You should choose your words more carefully, Emiel í Moranthi!” he snarled, stepping closer.
    Alec laid a hand on his arm, then said in Aurënfaie, “He can use what words he likes. It’s of no concern to me.”
    His antagonist’s eyes narrowed; none of the Haman had bothered chatting with him the night before and no doubt assumed he did not speak their language.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Beka muttered, sensing trouble.
    â€œJust a few insults between clans,” Alec said evenly. “Best to walk away.”
    â€œYes,” Nyal agreed, no longer smiling as he urged the glowering Kheeta back the way they’d come. But Beka was still eyeing the naked man.
    â€œIt was nothing,” Alec repeated firmly, snagging her by the sleeve and following.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, too frightened to join us?” Emiel jeered.
    It was Alec who wheeled around and, against all better judgment, strode back to face him. With the same bravado he’d once used staring down back-alley toughs, he crossed his arms and cocked his head to one side, slowly scanning Emiel from head to foot until his would-be adversary shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.
    â€œNo,” Alec replied at last, raising his voice for all to hear. “I see nothing here that frightens me.”
    He sensed the attack coming and jumped back as Emiel lunged for him. The Haman’s companions caught at him, dragging him back. Alec felt hands on his arms, too, but shook them off, needing no restraint. Somewhere behind him, Beka was cursing pungently in two languages as Kheeta restrained her.
    â€œRemember where you are, all of you,” Nyal warned, shouldering in between them.
    Emiel hissed softly between clenched teeth, but fell back. “Thank you, my friend,” he sneered, though his gaze never left Alec. “Thank you for not letting me soil my hands with this little garshil ke’menios.”
    With that, he sauntered back toward the pool.
    â€œCome away,” Nyal urged.
    The skin between his shoulder blades prickled and he tensed, expecting any moment for the Haman to change their minds and renew the fight. Aside from a few jeers and muttered insults, however, the defenders of the pool let them go in peace.
    â€œWhat was that he called you?” Beka asked again as soon as they were out of earshot.
    â€œNothing that matters.”
    â€œOh, I can see that! What did he say?” Beka demanded.
    â€œI didn’t get all of it.”
    â€œHe called you a mongrel boy whore,” Kheeta growled.
    Alec could feel his face burning and was glad of the shadows.
    â€œI’ve been called worse,” he lied. “Let it go, Beka. The last thing Klia needs is the head of her bodyguard getting into a brawl.”
    â€œBilairy’s
Balls
! That filthy son of a—”
    â€œPlease, Beka, you mustn’t say such things aloud. Not here,” said Nyal.