Page 12

Alaysia

Alaysia’s footsteps echoed through the dim corridor as she rushed past flickering torches.

The coarse fabric of the borrowed kitchen dress scratched against her skin, but it served its purpose.

No one spared her a second glance. She adjusted the white cap covering her telltale red hair and ducked into the hidden alcove.

Dernin’s massive form filled the small space, his scales catching the faint torch light. Dark bruises marked his torso, and he held himself stiffly despite his attempt to appear relaxed.

“Are you all right? That last hit looked terrible.” Her fingers twitched with the urge to check his injuries.

“Nothing serious.” His jaw clenched, betraying the lie.

“That’s not what I asked.” She crossed her arms. The musty smell of the underground tunnels mixed with the metallic scent of blood. “I saw how that brute caught you in the ribs.”

“A few bruises. They’ll heal.”

“You’re a terrible liar for a warrior.” The words came out sharper than intended. Her heart had nearly stopped when she’d watched him take that brutal hit. “But you fought amazingly. I’m proud of you for winning.”

His golden eyes widened slightly at her praise. The surprise in his expression made her chest ache—as if no one had shown him genuine concern in far too long.

“Thank you.” His voice dropped lower. “It helps, having someone to fight for.”

Heat crept up her neck. She looked away, studying the rough-hewn wall. “Just... be careful. You won’t do anyone any good if you get yourself seriously injured.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.” She risked another glance at him. In the dim light, with his guard slightly lowered, he looked less like the fearsome warrior and more like someone who carried too many burdens alone. “Promise me you’ll be more careful?”

“I promise to try.”

She shook her head. “I suppose that’s the best I’ll get from you.”

She then drew a deep breath. Dernin’s golden scales gleamed in the torchlight as she stepped closer to him. “I think I found a way to get us both out of here.”

His tail shifted restlessly. “Tell me.”

“Marcella knows a food vendor who travels through Jorvla. She can get a message to your warriors.”

“The Niri would come.” His golden eyes blazed with newfound hope. “My commander wouldn’t abandon one of his own.”

The conviction in his tone made her heart skip. “Two days from now, the vendor will be outside by the kitchens. If we time it right, I can slip her the message while pretending to help with deliveries.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Everything here is dangerous.” The borrowed kitchen dress scratched at her neck. “But it’s our best shot.”

“The warriors will come in force once they know where I am.” His massive frame straightened, some of the weariness falling away. “They’ll shut this whole operation down.”

“Then we both get what we want. You get your freedom back, and I don’t end up as someone’s prize.”

“You were never meant to be a prize.” The fierce protectiveness in his voice sent warmth spreading through her chest.

“Neither were you meant to be their champion fighter.” She touched his arm briefly, the scales smooth and warm beneath her fingers.

Alaysia shifted her weight as she removed her fingers from his arm. She was reluctant to leave him and the relative safety of their hidden alcove. She suddenly blurted out, “What’s it like? Nirum, I mean. I’ve never been there.”

Dernin’s expression softened. “It’s beautiful. The cities are built into living crystal mountains that catch the sunlight. At dawn, everything glows pink and gold.”

The way his eyes lit up made her lean closer. “You grew up there?”

“In the warrior district.” His tail coiled more comfortably behind him. “My first memories are of climbing the crystal spires with my clutch-mates, much to our teachers’ dismay.”

Alaysia smiled, picturing a young Dernin scaling glittering peaks. “Were you always meant to be a warrior?”

“It’s in our blood. But we train from childhood—combat, strategy, honor codes.” He gestured to a thin scar along his biceps. “Got this during my first real sparring match. My opponent was twice my size.”

“Did you win?”

“Eventually.” His lips quirked up. “Took three more matches and a broken tail before I figured out how to counter his moves.”

The casual mention of such injury made her wince, but his determination sparked something warm within her. Here was someone who didn’t just survive. He thrived on challenges.

“The training grounds overlook the Valley of Mists,” he continued. “When winter comes, the fog rolls in below the peaks. It’s like floating above the clouds.”

Alaysia closed her eyes, trying to imagine such freedom. The damp underground air pressed against her skin, making the vision of open skies and crystal mountains almost painful in its beauty. When she opened them again, she found Dernin watching her with an expression that made her breath catch.

“I’d love to see it someday,” she said softly, meaning it more than she’d expected.

“What about you?” Dernin asked, his eyes fixed on her face. “Have you always lived on Jorvla?”

“Born and raised here. My mother was a house slave in the merchant district.” The familiar ache bloomed in her chest at the memory. “She taught me everything—how to read from discarded books, how to blend into the background when masters were angry, how to find joy in small things.”

Dernin’s tail shifted closer, providing warmth against the underground chill. “She sounds very wise.”

“She was.” Alaysia leaned against the cool stone wall, fighting back tears. “We’d sneak up to the roof at night sometimes. She’d point out constellations and tell me stories about what lay beyond Jorvla. Said knowledge was the one thing they couldn’t take from us.”

Her throat tightened. “When I was sixteen, our master lost everything gambling. Sold us separately to cover his debts. I never saw her again.”

“I’m sorry.” The genuine pain in his voice caused her to look up.

“I survived. Worked in the textile district until...” She gestured at their surroundings. “Until Fyret decided I’d make a good prize.”

His jaw clenched. “You’re not a prize to be won.”

“No?” A bitter laugh escaped her. “That’s all I’ve ever been to them—property to be traded, sold, displayed.” She straightened, meeting his gaze. “But I’ve never stopped dreaming of freedom. Mother always said dreams keep hope alive.”

“Your mother was right.” Dernin moved closer, his massive frame somehow protective rather than threatening. “I swear on my warrior’s oath I’ll do everything in my power to free us both.”

The intensity in his golden eyes stole her breath for a moment.

“I believe you,” she whispered, surprising herself with how much she meant it.

She glanced at the torch shadows creeping across the wall. “I need to get back before someone notices I’m gone.”

“Of course.” He shifted his massive form to give her space. “Be careful.”

“You, too. Don’t let those ribs get worse.” She adjusted her borrowed cap.

The walk back through the winding tunnels felt longer than before.

Each step echoed off the stone walls, matching the rapid beating of her heart.

The musty underground air clung to her skin, but she barely noticed it.

Her mind kept drifting back to the way Dernin’s eyes had lit up describing his homeland, how his voice had softened when speaking of crystal spires and misty valleys.

A guard’s boots scraped against stone around the corner. Alaysia pressed herself into another alcove, holding her breath until the footsteps faded. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but was it from the near discovery or from remembering how Dernin had moved closer when she spoke of her mother?

“Foolish girl,” she whispered to herself, continuing down the corridor. “He’s just being kind because you might help him escape.”

But that didn’t explain the way her skin had tingled where their arms brushed or how safe she’d felt in his presence despite his fearsome size.

She’d learned long ago not to trust easily.

Survival depended on keeping others at arm’s length.

Yet somehow this warrior had slipped past her defenses in mere days.

The thought both terrified and thrilled her—and then terrified her more because it thrilled her.

She reached the slave quarters and slipped inside, making her way to her bunk. As she lay down, her mother’s words echoed in her mind: “Guard your heart carefully, little one. It’s the one thing truly your own.”

But in the darkness, as sleep crept closer, Alaysia wondered if perhaps her heart had already made its choice without consulting her at all.