“How long until we reach the temple?” she asks, her voice muffled, a note of exhaustion creeping in.
“Two days,” I reply. A rough guess. Lanaisor lies on the east side of Draxxus’s expansive territory, meaning we can wrap around by going west. But with Princesa in tow, it’s difficult to know for certain.
“Two days!” she groans, throwing her head back. “My feet and back are already killing me, and we’ve got two more days of this?” She shakes her head. “Kill me now.”
Her tone, laced with despair, irritates me. Her resolve is as brittle as the snowflakes melting on my face.
“Oh, you’re pissed at me?” Princesa announces in an eager tone, sensing her eyes peering up at me. “I can feel your ‘Mr. Frowny Face’ energy through our connection.” She titters.
I grimace, the realization sinking in—she can sense my thoughts, which I’ve guarded my entire life. Now they are laid bare before Princesa—the female who probes and mocks like an enemy breaching the fortress of my mind. The gates unbarred before her merciless assault.
“This is fun!” she giggles, and I’m tempted to cover her mouth again.
“So... what happened between you and Sandra?” she asks with a hint of mischief, her voice almost lost in the fierce snapping winds.
My guts clench, memories of the retching striking like a meteorite, until I ruthlessly suppress them with my molten resolve, driving back such pretty concerns.
“Ah, I felt that,” she mocks, catching the momentary slip. “Nice try, Dracoth.”
I clench my jaw. This intrusion is intolerable.
“Silence, female,” I command, keeping my voice steady.
“What’s the big deal?” Princesa exhales with a heavy sigh. “I mean, I’m supposed to be your bonded woman, remember? You’re going to have to trust me at some point.”
Trust does not equate to needless oversharing.
My war brothers may trust me with their lives, but they would never seek to dishonor themselves by voicing every inane concern. There’s a hint of mockery in Princesa’s tone and her eager gaze, which gives me pause. But perhaps the female is correct—humans are delicate after all. They may find comfort wallowing in their shared misery.
“Sandra...” I begin, the words surprisingly elusive. “She clung to me like a spirit I could not shake. In a moment of weakness, we embraced...” The rush of that chaotic moment surges through me, as if I’d consumed bloodroot.
“You go, Sandra!” Princesa laughs and claps her hands with excitement, strangely pleased at this news. “I always knew she wasn’t as innocent as she let on.” But then, her smile fades.
“So... did you two fuck then?” she asks, her tone lacking any mirth suddenly.
Fuck—the word is unfamiliar, but context provides meaning.
Now the bond betrays her—anger, disappointment simmering like boiling plasma in the recesses of my mind. It’s almost amusing.
“No,” I growl.
She shifts in my arms, her eyes searching mine. “You can’t just say ‘no’ and leave it at that. What the hell happened?”
A question that haunts me still.
“When we touched... I was repulsed. Sickened to my core.” The words spill out, my lips curling in disgust. Already I regret giving her so much insight.
“Oh my God!” she gasps, her hand covering her mouth as if in shock. “I don’t know why I never thought of it before, but... it makes sense.” She clutches my arm, taking a deep breath, and I brace for some new human madness. “Dracoth, I think you might be gay.”
Gay?
I frown as she nods in satisfaction, wearing a loathsome expression of unearned pride. “I know it’s hard to come out, especially for a big, tough warrior man. But it’s okay. I hear you. Igetit, all right?” She stares at me, expecting an answer, but only confusion clouds my thoughts. “I mean, I’ll still be your chieftainess, of course. You know, for appearances... while you do... whatever it is you like doing.”
The sound of crunching snow and howling wind fills the unspoken air.Is joy seen as taboo to humans? Only misery and complaining are tolerated?
“I feel gay crushing my enemies, savoring the heat of their blood on my claws,” I offer, studying her face for understanding.
“Eww!” Princesa’s face wrinkles with disgust. “That’s quite the... uh... fetish.” She glances around as if someone might eavesdrop in this desolate land of ice. “But hey, no judgment. I know how the rich and powerful behave. It’ll be our little secret, I promise. And if you want...” She hesitates, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I could, you know, dress up like an alien man or something. We could roleplay a... massacre thing?”
