Page 74 of Scorching the Alien Empire (The Klendathian Cycle #7)
Alexandra
Jelly Stick
T he doors hiss shut behind me.
“Hey, Lexie! Did you sleep okay?” Sandra’s voice greets me like honey to my gravel-abused ears. Her freckled face beams up at me, all soft warmth and effortless sincerity.
“Ugh, I just woke up, and I already need a triple espresso.” I thumb my temples, sweeping my gaze across the room.
The Revered Mothers lie on makeshift medical beds, some sitting upright, others still as statues, their eyes closed. They don’t stir at my arrival, barely reacting to Razgor as he moves among them, scanning their bodies with a glowing projection from his wrist console.
“I’m not surprised, with all the ogling going on outside,” Sandra flicks her chin toward the door behind me. “These poor women are being hounded like paparazzi.”
“Please, try to understand it from my people’s perspective,” Razgor chimes in, sweeping his scanner over the women, making notes on his blue holographic display. “We haven’t seen our females in two hundred years.”
I snort, folding my arms. “First of all, that’s a ridiculous amount of time. Second, it shows. They need a cold shower—preferably one filtered through ice. Not packing out the corridors like this is some kind of kinky burlesque show.”
They could use that horrible fridge-prison Ignixis stuck me in.
“That’s uncharitable,” Razgor mutters, finally lifting his gaze, his frown shadowing his already severe features.
Well, well. Seems the nerd has grown a backbone after his arm got noodlified by the murder-bots yesterday.
“This is more than mere lust. What these females represent. What their presence means...” His words are filled with passion as he looks to Ruzeta with shimmering eyes. “This is our chance to atone, to make things right...”
I stop listening, tuning him out as I roll my eyes. This is the problem with nerds—they never know when to quit. All pedantic, missing the vibe and tone. Total killjoys.
A flicker of movement draws my attention—a black-red bundle of rubbery joy unfurling on Sandra’s shoulder.
“Todd!” I squeal, already rushing forward, my arms outstretched toward the plumper.
I scoop him up, barely suppressing a delighted “uff” as I miscalculate his ever-increasing weight.
His tiny legs skitter frantically, a blur of excitement, while his mandibles clack in rapid succession.
It can mean only one thing—a demand for a hug.
His big, singular eye blinks up at me. So cute, it reflects everything from its gleaming surface.
“I missed you so much!” I spin in a circle, squeezing him against my chest, his squishy body wiggling in my grasp. A soft hiss escapes him, muffled against my robes, and I just know it means, I love you, Momma.
But before I can soak in the moment, Todd squirms free and scuttles into the folds of my cloak, vanishing with the efficiency of a seasoned escape artist.
“Hey! Come back here, you little rascal!” I demand, but it’s too late. He’s already claimed his prize—a jelly stick I had planned to give him later, discovered and stolen in record time.
I sigh in defeat as he emerges again like a greedy spider from its web.
His little mouthparts work furiously around his ill-gotten snack.
With effortless confidence, he clambers up my chest, winding around my shoulders before settling atop my Sock-Chair Chieftainess cloak to finish devouring his meal in peace.
I wonder if there’s cyloillar disciplinary school back on Klendathor? If not, someone needs to create one—and soon.
I narrow my eyes at Sandra. “You’ve been spoiling the Divine Cherub.” I roll my shoulder, trying to shift Todd’s increasingly cumbersome bulk. “He weighs a ton now.”
Sandra gasps, clutching her chest in exaggerated shock. “Me? Me? You’re the one who keeps feeding him those things!” She gestures toward the happily munching Todd before shaking her head in mock exasperation. “Divine Cherub. Right. I see he’s moving up in the universe again.”
“Oh yes, Sandra,” I purr, the words wrapping around my pride like the finest silk scarf. “We both are.”
My fingers trace the elegant silver engravings along Todd’s rubbery back, each divine marking a reminder of Divine Mothers’ connection.
My eyes flick up to hers, letting the weight of my words settle.
Even Sandra, for all her endearing naivety, cannot deny the truth any longer—I am no longer just Lexie.
I am something more.
Something divine.
She huffs, shaking her head with a smirk. “Well, your divine cherub has been pooping in my shoes again.”
My moment of celestial glory screeches to a halt.
Sandra lifts her boot for inspection, revealing a fresh, fur-lined replacement. “This is the fourth pair I’ve had to fabricate,” she grumbles.
My cheeks heat. My recognition now stinks like Todd poop. I can’t even argue. Todd does have a habit of leaving... presents. It’s not his fault, though. He must think shoes are leaves or something equally adorable.
“Ah, how wonderful you’ve been receiving more blessings,” I mock, savoring the wide-eyed, pinched expression Sandra gives me.
“Blessings?” she mutters, shaking her head as she glances down at her wrist console. “Next time, I’m cooking the wee living haggis.”
My stomach clenches. She wouldn’t dare.
Would she?
No, she wouldn’t. But I bet he’d be delicious. Wee scrumptious cutie pie.
The mention of blessings sparks a thought. I absently thumb my now-deflated pouch, irritation curling at the edges of my mood.
“Razgor, I need more ashes,” I demand.
He exhales sharply, eyes flicking toward me with barely restrained patience. “Ashes?” he echoes like a confused parrot. “Have you tried engineering? Those discharged Elerium thermal coolers always get charred up.” He waves vaguely toward the door as if I’m some hobo begging for a quarter.
“Really?” I question, outrage simmering beneath a look of incomprehension.
“Do I look like someone who would go crawling around some filthy, stinking engines scraping gunk off walls?” My hands gesture to my robes, my perfectly clean robes.
“And you think I’d bless my followers with toxic space-gunk sludge? ”
Razgor studies me for an awkward beat, his gaze trailing from head to toe, considering.
Such a rude prick!
“I’m unfamiliar with human standards,” he says at last, tilting his head in something resembling an apologetic gesture. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
A brilliant, fitting idea that recently came to me.
I smile, slow and knowing. “The ashes I use aren’t just any old cinders. They are the sacred ashes of Scarn, fused with Arawnoth’s own herald—Elder Ignixis.”
Sandra chokes, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, poor Elder Ignixis,” she gasps. “That’s so nasty, Lexie.”
Unbelievable. I haven’t even finished, and she’s already complaining!
“What?” I snap, throwing a glare of molten silver in her direction. “Elder Ignixis would have approved! I studied the sacred words with him—I knew how he thought.”
Assuming he was clever enough to think of it himself.
“Plus,” I continue, placing a solemn hand over the scorched runes on my chest, “if I die, I expect you to do the same for me.”
As if I’d ever die. I’m basically invincible.
Sandra’s eyes widen, her freckles standing out against her paling skin. “The same?” she echoes, her ginger brows creeping up toward her hairline like orange caterpillars. “Lexie... what are you on about?”
I sigh loudly, my frustration growing, like I’m speaking Klendathian without a translator. “You’d consume my ashes, of course.”
She stands there, blinking. Her mouth opens and closes, moving soundlessly as if someone just slapped her across the face with a wet fish while Todd took a dump in her coffee.
I press on, undeterred. “And you’d have to give some to wee chug bug too, before you look after him for me.”
“Ack, you’re talking nonsense, Lexie.” She finally finds her voice, shaking her head as if waking from a nightmare. “You’re letting all this cult stuff go to your head.”
Cult stuff? Is that all I am? Some fucking cult stuff!
A storm ignites inside me, rage sudden and charged like lightning. My hands tremble, nails digging into my palms. My breath quickens, shallow and sharp.
Sandra steps back, her expression flickering with something I never thought I’d see in her.
Fear.
“Lexie?” Her voice is smaller now, cautious. Her arms lift slightly, palms open. “Are you okay?”
And just like that, the fire in me is smothered. My blood turns to ice. The sight of fear on her face— my friend’s face—twists my insides into knots.
I exhale slowly, the tension bleeding out of me like my bank balance during a new fashion season.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, my gaze dropping to the polished black marble floor.
I force myself to straighten, to gather the fraying edges of my composure.
My voice is measured, but it rings hollow.
“As I was saying... before being rudely interrupted.” I glance toward Razgor, meeting his still-stunned gaze.
“If I can’t bring the ashes of Scarn here, then I’ll use the fruits of Scarn. ”
He blinks, confusion plain on his face.
I tilt my head. “How many fell during the haunted house of murder-bots?”
“Haunted house?” Razgor mutters under his breath, now totally confused and lost. Good. Better to keep people guessing—means they’ll do what I ask. “Um... four berserkers, Divine Daughter.”
Sandra lets out a sound of pure revulsion. “That’s disgusting , Lexie.”
“No,” I correct, my lips curving into a smirk.
“It’s perfect. Poetic, even. Arawnoth teaches that we are reborn in strength, that the cycle burns eternal.
” The scorched blessing along my chest and neck flares to life, glowing like smoldering embers.
“Then let the fallen infuse us with their strength. One by one, until only the most powerful remain. The ones most worthy of Arawnoth’s blessing.
Back to the source—back to his divine image. ”
A laugh escapes me, rich and full of joy.