Dranian Evelry Being Epic
There weren’t words to explain what had happened the moment Dranian laid eyes upon the woman of his dreams. For a split second, he’d thought he wasn’t actually awake when she’d appeared in front of him in the cabin. He thought he was stopping an intruder, that someone from the village had followed them in hopes of kidnapping the human under his charge. He’d locked spears with her—the female. He’d nearly fought with all he had left until he realized…
It was her.
The girl with no name stood before him.
His surroundings hadn’t been teetering and stormy and nightmarish. Everything was bright and the air was crisp. He was awake. He was awake and she was there and she was looking at him.
Dranian would relive that moment every second of every day. He stole another glance at the girl with no name now where she stood on the hill beside him. Her throat constricted as she watched the enemies in crimson flooding the valley. As she prepared to face the very souls who had imprisoned her these last years. How his blood boiled with fresh rage when he thought about all she’d been through in her time. He’d hardly been able to sit still when she’d told him mere bits and pieces of what had happened in her life since they were separated in Ashi-Calla village.
Him. Enraged.
Feeling feely things.
Dranian’s chest had gotten warm the last few days. He couldn’t make it stop, even when he’d tried plunging into a cold healing pool. He feared his chest might heat to oven temperatures and bake his insides if he couldn’t make it stop. That his body would turn to a tasty meat stick for the birds and he’d die like that.
A meat stick.
Dranian rubbed his chest when he thought about it. He decided to forget about his troubles though as he watched the girl with no name’s fingers fidget around the short spear he’d once given her for slaying a hogbeast. A thing she’d kept all these years like a trophy.
She was visibly nervous. And for that, Dranian wanted to defeat the House of Lyro all the more.
He opened his mouth to say something consoling, but he realized two things. The first was that he didn’t know what sort of nice consoling thing might work. The second was that he didn’t know what to call her. The others called her Mycra Sentorious , but Dranian wouldn’t. He knew what that name was. He knew the horrors she’d faced on that ship, and why she should not label herself with such a bad memory.
He would choose a new name for her someday. But today…
Dranian turned his attention to the crimson swarm. A hoard of fae he had once worked for. Friends of the House who had joined in beating him up and tormenting him for fun. Friends who had been able to get away with it at the time, until Shayne had done something about it.
But not today.
No, Dranian wasn’t going to smile or anything outrageous like that. But maybe he was looking forward to facing these fae again in a body like Cress’s. Maybe he would give them all a taste of their own faeborn medicine. And he would look dazzling doing it, too, in this fashionable suit.
Dranian should have been worried about the retaliation for what he was about to do. Cress would lose his mind if Dranian brought any harmful scrapes to the Prince’s well-kept body.
But he wasn’t worried.
Today, Dranian wanted to be epic.
Today, he was Epic-Dranian.
Cress could shove it.