Page 94

Alexandra

Lanaisor

T he crackling of fire and distant, eerie barks penetrate my dreams, tugging me from the lovely realm of flames. It’s so cozy there. Cozy here, too. The heat from the fire seeps through the furs wrapped around me, tingling against my skin.

Cracking open an eye, I make out Dracoth’s blurred form. He’s already fully dressed, his dark armor glinting faintly in the firelight, roasting more meat over the bonfire he conjured last night.

“Did you sleep at all?” I murmur, rubbing the grogginess from my eyes. The rich, smoky scent of roasting meat fills my nose, making my stomach churn with hunger.

“A little,” he rumbles, stretching out one of his massive, clawed hands, pieces of meat dangling from each blade. “Dagdorix and Machsin reside in these woods. I do not trust them.”

I sit up and take the offering, savoring the first bite while casting a wary glance at the towering trees and dense, shadowy foliage surrounding us. “Are they coming here?” I ask, already imagining horrors emerging from the darkness.

Crap, I really need to get dressed.

Dracoth surprises me with a rare, crooked smile. “You know so little.”

Such a rude prick.

“So little? Really?” I scoff, scrambling to pull on my garish gnome clothes that are far too dirty and slightly torn now. “At least I know what a toilet is,” I mutter, shaking my head as I lace up my boots.

“A familiar complaint.” He waves a dismissive hand, the other still busy roasting more giant mutant turtle monster. “Dagdorix and Machsin are Gods of these lands. Clan Draxxus reveres them,” he adds with a touch of distaste.

My ears perk up, strangely drawn to the Klendathian Gods, since I learned Arawnoth is real when he blessed me.

“Are they like Arawnoth?” I ask, my fingers tracing the raised, spiraling, runic brand etched into the skin above my chest.

Dracoth’s eyes snap to me with what might pass as surprise in his not-so-expressive range.

“You care?”

Being a lady of grace and elegance, I choose to ignore his rudeness. It’s fine—Dracoth’s just a little rough around the edges.

“Of course I care,” I snap, a little sharper than I intended. I take a breath, my gaze dropping to my hands. “How could I not?”

The fire crackles, its warm light dancing over my skin.

My fingers trace absent patterns in the dirt.

“I see him sometimes,” I admit, quieter now.

“He saved me. In the dark... he brings me light.” The words sound strange, fragile as they leave my lips.

I never thought I’d say them aloud—not even to Sandra.

But with Dracoth, I know he won’t laugh or push me away.

Dracoth stares at me in silence for a moment.

“I’ve seen him too,” he says, holding out another piece of meat.

“When the bloodroot threatened to consume my mind.” He straightens, chin raised, a hint of pride in his posture.

“Then I knew Ignixis wasn’t merely a mad coward.

That one of you was destined to be mine. ”

Butterflies flutter wildly in my stomach, but I swallow them down along with the sizzling food offered at the end of Dracoth’s claw. The juicy meat bursts with flavor, yet the excitement within me refuses to settle.

Gods are real. At least the Klendathian ones are. And they’ve brought us to this moment. Dracoth and I are meant to be together—soulmates. If all that crazy talk Ignixis was spouting about our ‘ glorious destiny ’ is true... Well, for once, the future looks brighter.

“Um... do you think...” The words tumble out before I can stop them, nervous and clumsy, driven by the heart-thumping elation I can’t suppress. “You could teach me the sacred words Ignixis keeps mentioning?” I glance at Dracoth, offering a hesitant, hopeful smile.

His crimson eyes snap to mine, reflecting the crackling firelight. A flicker of surprise creases his brow before his usual blank expression takes over again. But through our bond, I catch it—a flash of pride and joy, quick and intense.

“You surprise me,” he grumbles, his tone as flat as ever.

“Don’t be,” I laugh, emboldened by the warmth of his internal reaction. “I’ve attended every ritual... And if Ignixis can really speak to Arawnoth and learn about the future, then I want that too.”

My gaze drifts to the flames, watching the meat blacken and char on the ends of Dracoth’s claws. But the fire’s warmth is nothing compared to the heat I feel in my dreams—the infernos where Arawnoth’s presence is undeniable. I need that connection.

I need him .

If I can learn the sacred words, maybe I can hold on to Arawnoth forever, make sure he never turns his back on me.

Dracoth stays annoyingly silent, leaving me dangling like I’m waiting for the latest Chanel season catalogue to drop.

Maybe I’ve said too much, revealed too much crazy?

“This new aspect of you is... pleasing,” he finally replies, tilting his broad head toward me with an expression stuck between faint wonder and something almost resembling joy.

Practically an emotion!

He offers more large cuts of meat, but I hold up my hands, stomach nearing stuffed turkey levels of fullness.

“I cannot teach you,” he says, at last answering my question. Without pause, he tears into the steaks with brutal efficiency, devouring four in quick succession like he’s at an eating competition. “Because, like you, I did not believe.”

He rises abruptly, looming over me like one of the immense trees around our camp.

My heart sinks, though I can’t say I’m surprised. Dracoth is a giant red murder meathead, not the nerdy occult-reading type.

“Garzum or one of the Magaxus faithful can teach you,” he adds, brushing his hands off mere inches from the fire—so close I’m amazed he doesn’t flinch.

“Wait,” I blurt, “what about Ignixis?”

“No,” Dracoth huffs, sounding like a wind tunnel. “He loathes the lesser species. He will refuse,” he adds, offering an outstretched hand.

“Lesser species?” I frown up at him in annoyance. “Really, Dracoth?”

Ugh, he’s so rude sometimes!

Still, I take his offered hand, and with the barest flick of his wrist, he hoists me up as if I weigh nothing, launching me a full foot into the air. I land unsteadily, glaring up at him, but he’s already turning away like it’s no big deal.

“I’m not a lesser species ,” I remind him, a smirk spreading across my lips, fueled by unshakable confidence. “I’m the blessed daughter, remember? He will teach me.” I pause for effect, crossing my arms. “I’ll make him if I have to. Even if it means turning him into a creepy demon sandwich again.”

Dracoth’s crimson eyes narrow slightly. “Actions speak—”

“Louder than words,” I cut him off with a knowing scoff, predicting his tiresome lack of faith in me. “Yes, yes, I know. Just be ready to eat a nice slice of humble pie when I convince him.”

He doesn’t reply, instead turning his attention to the campfire, snuffing out the flames with his bare hands like they’re nothing more than wisps of smoke.

The mention of pie sparks a memory, and my stomach drops.

“Todd?” I call, glancing toward the spongy orange moss and the dense red bushes just beyond our camp. “Todd!” My voice sharpens with urgency, my chest tightening as concern churns in my gut.

“Help me find him,” I pull at thick brambles, hoping to spot the cute little grub within, discovering nothing but the pleasant ache from Dracoth’s early attentions.

Dracoth barely looks up as he bundles our furs into the satchel. “Now fattened, it wandered off to be devoured,” he says with a casual air, not even pretending to care.

“Fuck’s sake, Dracoth! You’re not helping,” I snap, anger and panic heating my face.

I start yanking at thick brambles, scanning every shadow and crevice in the hope of finding him. “Todd!” I shout again, kicking over a bundle of leaves and twigs.

A rustling sound to my right makes my head whip around, and a beaming smile of elation blooms on my lips. Todd, the little scamp, skitters from under a dense pile of large red leaves. His segmented leathery body looking extra plump.

“There you are, you little chug bug!” I squeal in delight, rushing over to scoop up the rascal.

“You had us both so worried,” I scold him, though my voice softens as I cradle the cute troublemaker close.

Dracoth, of course, remains entirely indifferent, his attention focused on tightening the straps of the satchel. I can practically feel his silent disinterest radiating off him.

Todd clacks his tiny mandibles near my face, his single gleaming black eye reflecting my delighted grin.

He’s so cute!

His spindly legs cling to my shoulder as I gently stroke the smooth, black-red segments of his body.

“You’re getting big!” I exclaim, my fingers trailing along his plump little frame. “Is it just me, Dracoth, or is our little chunk getting a little too chunky?”

Dracoth does his Mr. Frowny Face routine, his ruby-red gaze shifting to the nestled Todd. His thick brows somehow manage to furrow even deeper, making his already-imposing expression downright ridiculous.

“It might carry you soon,” he grunts.

I snort. “That’s what I have you for,” I tease, stepping closer with my arms outstretched, a wide grin plastered across my face.

But of course, Dracoth just peers down at me, his eyes smoldering like twin coals. From his towering perspective, I probably look like a zombie toddler demanding a piggyback ride.

“Well... don’t leave me hanging!” I huff, frowning, my arms still stretched wide. He doesn’t budge. “Typical,” I sigh, comically swinging my rigid arms against his massive armored frame.

Dracoth’s expression softens—well, as much as a chiseled slab of rock can soften—and I swear there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Emboldened, I press my advantage.

“You’ll have to carry me, Dracoth,” I insist, my hands landing on his broad chest as I continue my utterly futile assault.