Read Online The Second Siege by Henry H. Neff - Free Book Online

hostage guarded by a band of tusked oni, fearsome and cunning Japanese demons. Once the team had eliminated the sentries and taken strategic positions, Max’s instructions had been to wait for the team leader’s signal. He had seen an opportunity, however, and chose instead to create a diversionary fire and leap into the chamber. As he had anticipated, the oni were too slow. Max had cut them down and freed the hostage in less than a minute, earning the team a much higher score than if he had acted on orders. Unfortunately, the team leader did not appreciate Max’s initiative, and Max had been forced to endure a furious lecture about strategy, discipline, and unnecessary risks.
    The lecture was forgotten, however, as food began to arrive, carried out on silver platters by a combination of Fifth Years and fauns in formal dress. As the fauns approached, Connor promptly flipped his napkin on the floor and dove down to get it. While he lingered beneath the table, Connor’s charge, a Normandy faun named Kyra, marched past their table, her delicate features dripping with indignation.
    “Why are you hiding from Kyra?” whispered David.
    “Shhh!” hissed Connor, waving David away. “Don’t draw her attention over here—she’ll do something terrible to our food! She said she might!”
    “Why?” asked Max, watching the faun soften her stride to deliver a platter to a table of delighted First Years.
    “Thinks it’s beneath her to be waiting on the likes of us,” whispered Connor, peering over the table and slipping back into his seat. “Normandy fauns are right proud. I tried to explain it was just twice a year and how I wait on her all the other days, but she doesn’t see it that way.”
    “How’d you get her to come at all?” asked David, watching as Kyra flicked a murderous glance at a First Year who had the nerve to point at her hooves.
    “I bribed her,” confessed Connor. “Said I’d get her a real tiara.”
    “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” asked Max. The answer dawned on him almost immediately. “Mr. Sikes?”
    Connor cackled mischievously and thumped the table with his fist. “Yes indeed, my friend! Should be getting it tonight—little fellow even promised to wrap it with a pink bow! Not even Kyra can stay mad after that!”
    “You know, that imp will have to steal that tiara,” said David, waving his fork at Connor. “An imp can’t just make a tiara out of thin air—it’s coming from someplace. This isn’t good.”
    “Oh, give it a rest, Davie,” pleaded Connor, reaching for a basket of warm focaccia. “Please? For me? Nobody who owns a bleedin’ tiara is going to go hungry if it turns up missing.”
    Even David had to laugh. Without further ado, the three joined in the feast.
    Lately, Max found that he was always craving food. It went beyond mere hunger and was, instead, an all-consuming need to feed a body whose demands for energy were becoming insatiable. David and Connor watched in silent awe as Max wolfed down plate after plate of tenderloin, chicken, string beans, and barley. When Max finally polished off a heaping mound of pasta shells swimming in Bellagrog’s succulent red sauce, the ravenous hunger faded.
    “Impressive,” said Connor, wiping his mouth. “But you’re wasting valuable time with this whole chewing thing. You should just learn to unhinge your jaw—you know, like a python. Maybe Sir Alistair can teach you. . . .”
    Max made a face at the mention of Sir Alistair Wesley, Rowan’s Etiquette instructor.
    “No more Sir Alistair for me,” replied Max. “I’m out of Etiquette and Diplomacy this year—they changed my schedule. They’ve got me in Advanced Combat Training with the Sixth Years instead.”
    “Lucky you,” said Connor, “but I wouldn’t tell Sarah. She’ll think they’re sending you to the front lines.”
    Max nodded heartily in agreement while slipping a grilled chop onto his plate.
    Dishes were now being cleared and a variety of