“So you’re the Ambassador’s son?” Smasher inspected Rite from head to toe with a disdainful smirk. “Why’s our next great leader banished to the nether region of the TNR?”
“Not the heir.” Rite controlled his urge to grind his teeth and kept his half-smile in place. “And not banished.” He shrugged, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. “The TNR program’s important. I can make a difference here.”
“You couldn’t at least get assigned to the capital? Poor sod.” A bald man stood next to Smasher, hipshot and arms folded. “Name’s Terrance. But everyone calls me—”
“Twinkle!” Arms and legs wrapped around Terrance’s torso, and a pouting face appeared over his shoulder. A single earring glittered: gold and diamonds shaped into a rococo L. “You didn’t save me any cake!”
“It’s your own fault. You nearly missed changeover,” Smasher said, then addressed Rite. “This’s Cookie. He’s been promoted to Port District, but will stick around until you’re trained.”
“Got it.” Rite mouthed Smasher, Twinkle, and Cookie, his lips barely moving, to set the names in his mind. “What’s first?”
“Now?” Smasher exchanged a glance with Twinkle and Cookie. “Now we fire up some tinder.”
