Page 26 of Scorching the Alien Empire (The Klendathian Cycle #7)
Alexandra
Fashion
“ Y our new room is amazing, Lexie!” Sandra exclaims, her blue eyes sparkling as they drink in the expansive bedroom.
“Yeah, it’s not bad.” I frown almost in agreement.
“But there’s way too much of this stuff in here.
” I wave a dismissive hand at the trophies hanging from the sleek black marble walls.
“I mean, the weapons are bad enough, but these skulls are ridiculous. It’s like every day is Halloween.
” My grimace deepens as I peer at a massive tusked fossil with six empty eye sockets.
“Oh, but I love Halloween,” Sandra says wistfully.
She probably dressed up as Chucky the evil doll.
“I liked the candy,” I admit, grimacing at my stomach. “A little too much.”
Absently, I stroke the too-cute Todd, who’s curled up on my shoulder. “Just like our little chubby chug bug, isn’t that right?” I coo, tickling his plump, rubbery belly, which makes his wee clackers clack faster.
“I would’ve thought you’d love Halloween. You know, playing dress-up and...” Sandra trails off, her finger tracing a long banner emblazoned with fiery red runes crackling over streaks of purple lightning. “...acting all psycho.” She laughs nervously, her freckled face reddening.
“What do you mean, ‘ acting all psycho’ ?” I challenge, narrowing my eyes at her. “Psycho, like when I saved everyone’s lives by stopping that bomb thing?”
I swear! I save people from certain death, and they still find a way to spin it against me.
“No, psycho like—” She quotes in a stupid voice that’s supposed to mimic the accent I don’t have. “ ’Kill him! Burn him alive! ’” She grins. “Oh, and let’s not forget, ‘ Burn him to ash with Arawnoth’s love! ’”
“Please,” I sigh loudly as I flick my wrist to dismiss her concern. “Drex-iot totally deserved to be fried to a crisp. I mean, he tried to blow us all up, for Gods’ sake! But of course, Dracoth had to do his whole meathead, bone-through-the-nose routine.” I roll my eyes at the absurdity of it all.
Dracoth’s going soft on me, and it’s my job as his Mortakin-Kis to keep him nice and hard.
“Drex-iot,” Sandra echoes, snorting loudly, pulling me back to the present. I clamp my hand over my chest, realizing I’ve been absentmindedly tracing Arawnoth’s blessing again.
“I’m just worried,” Sandra says, her tone softening, her wide eyes full of concern. “All this god stuff and, you know, boobie magic—”
“ Again with the boobie magic? Really, Sandra?” I interrupt, giving her a sharp frown. A surge of anger bubbles up, threatening to steal the levity from my voice.
What Dracoth and I have... we’re more than mortals. Almost gods. If we dropped the bullshit pretenses and fully embraced what we are, no one—not even Sandra—could deny it.
I exhale sharply, grounding myself in the crisp air of the ship. Stepping closer to my friend, I place a hand on her arm. “Listen, I appreciate the thought, Sandra. But I haven’t changed. I’m still the same fabulous Lexie,” I say, my voice calm, my face sincere.
Deep down, I’ve always been like this, but Dracoth ignited that part of me—the real Lexie I kept hidden and ashamed.
“Besides, I’ve got you and Todd here to keep an eye on me,” I add with a laugh.
“We’re trying,” Sandra replies, a smile creasing her face. “Though, if Todd keeps eating so much, his big eye might pop right out of his wee head.” She chuckles, reaching out to stroke his head segment. Todd’s mandibles part as he leans into her scratches. Little traitor bug.
“No!” I gasp, side-eyeing the little plumper on my shoulder. “Are you saying my little superstar is getting fat?”
“The proof is in the haggis.” Sandra titters, her hand slipping inside the folds of her dark red fur-lined jacket.
She pulls out a bendy, rectangular abomination pretending to be food—a jelly stick.
“You know, Klendathians call this a ‘jellied ration’ and eat it once a day. But Todd eats at least two.”
“You don’t say...” I mutter absently.
Since Ignixis issued us our wrist consoles, Sandra’s been obsessed with learning about the Klendathians and every other alien species that ever was. Meanwhile, I’ve been busy struggling to learn the runes and the sacred words of Arawnoth.
Ignixis nearly threw me out of the lab yesterday when I couldn’t sit still long enough for him to perform Mura-Tok. The rude prick even suggested humans might lack the brain capacity for it.
I never was much of a student.
“Here, Toddy-Woddy,” Sandra coos, holding the jelly stick temptingly close to my pet cyloillar.
I barely have time to grunt before Todd launches off my shoulder with surprising speed and weight, his array of little spindly legs a blur of motion.
“Look at him go!” I exclaim, watching as his plump little body wobbles midair. He lands like a deranged, drug-fueled flying squirrel, making Sandra scream as he clings to her outstretched arm.
“Gross!” Sandra groans as Todd dangles from her wrist like an overgrown, hungry koala. His mandibles make quick work of the jelly stick, shoveling chunks of it into his hidden mouth hole.
“And he weighs a ton now,” she adds, her face a mix of amusement and disgust that could only be driven by jealousy.
“Yeah...” I mutter in agreement, rubbing the ache from my shoulder I didn’t know Todd’s chunkiness had caused. “Right, that’s it. You’re going on a diet, mister. Starting now!”
I reach for him, but Todd clings to Sandra’s arm with all the stubbornness of a creature who has tasted nirvana.
“Okay, starting tomorrow,” I concede, lifting him and his precious jelly stick off her arm. His giant, gleaming eye stays fixated on his treat.
“So, do you know what this means?” Sandra asks, her tone bright with excitement as she turns toward the intricate banner behind her.
I squint at the long banner, Todd’s familiar weight settling on my shoulder as his mandibles noisily devour the last of his prize.
“Um...” I study the runes, their fiery stylization and jagged purple lightning making them hard to decipher—not helped by my complete lack of understanding.
“That one means strength. I think.” I tap the top rune, a slanted T shape with extra lines.
“And the other...” My brow furrows as I struggle with the spirals—they all look bloody identical. “Gas... maybe?” I shrug.
“Gas?” Sandra echoes, frowning. “I don’t know, Lexie. I don’t see any strength gas floating around.” She squints at the banner as if she’s somehow cracked the untold mysteries of the squiggly spirals.
“So...” I begin quickly, eager to steer the conversation away. “How are you settling into your new place?” I move toward the enormous wooden bed at the other end of the room, shaped like a hollowed-out tree trunk.
“It’s brilliant,” Sandra says, her eyes lighting up. “So much bigger than my old room. And there are so many interesting things on the walls.” Her genuine joy makes me smile, glad to see her happy. “Honestly, though, I’m afraid to touch anything—it’s like living in a museum.”
“Not to mention half of it’s weapons,” I remind her, glancing at a sleek black, long-barreled object mounted on the wall. It looks suspiciously like some sort of gun. “Might as well duct-tape nukes to the bed while they’re at it.”
Groaning with relief, I collapse onto the bed, sinking into the layers of plush furs.
“I definitely won’t be touching anything now,” Sandra laughs nervously, twiddling her thumbs as she inches toward the bed. Then her eyes widen. “Wow! Your bed is bloody gigantic! It’s way bigger than mine.”
“Oh, this?” I reply, feeling a surge of pride at her reaction.
“It’s Dracoth-sized,” I chuckle, running my hand over the fur.
The softness conforms perfectly to my touch.
“His big Bobo-the-clown feet kept sticking out of the old one,” I add with a dramatic roll of my eyes, recalling the-less-than-appealing image.
“He looked like red lipstick shoved into a matchbox.”
Sandra bursts into laughter, shaking her head and tousling her ginger hair.
“Crazy to think his dad used to sleep here. In this very room,” she muses, lifting her arms as if to encompass the expanse of the chamber.
“And he built this whole ship. Now his son’s here—with you.
..” Her gaze drops to her enmeshed fingers, her tone quieting.
“You don’t think what Drexios said is true? About Dracoth being a clone?”
I don’t care. Dracoth is my Dracoth. Nothing can change that.
“I’ve no idea,” I answer with a casual shrug, careful not to disturb Todd, who’s still preoccupied with digesting his snack.
“What a head-melter!” Sandra presses, undeterred by my disinterest. “Like, how hard must that be for him? Not knowing who he really is, where he comes from, or why?” Her sapphire eyes dart to mine, bright with expectation. “Do you ever talk to him about it? What does he make of it all?”
My gaze drops to my hands. Her earnest concern for him stirs an unwelcome pang of jealousy and guilt.
Why haven’t I asked him? Why don’t I know?
No, I care more than Sandra. I know Dracoth wants to be strong— needs to be strong. Dredging up the past, talking about his feelings ... that will only weaken him. And we can’t afford that—not when there’s still so much to fight for.
I could lie, invent some warm, fuzzy response. But I won’t lie to Sandra. Not over something so important. Not now. The sacred words call for strength.
“I don’t care about his past,” I mutter, my voice sounding strangely distant, even to my own ears. “He needs to be strong, for our future.”
Sandra inhales sharply. “Lexie...” She frowns down at me, and my cheeks burn under the spotlight of her scrutiny. “What about his feelings?” she presses, her voice softer but no less piercing. “Don’t you think talking about this might ease his doubts? It could make him stronger.”
She has a point. But the idea still feels wrong—like putting ketchup on venison.