I hate that I care.
“No, my fragile human heart, as you so rudely put it, doesn’t give a shit about them.” I mutter, my gaze downcast, deciding to test how sincere Dracoth’s words are—that he won’t abandon me. “In fact, I enjoyed watching you kill them.” My eyes lock on his, my rising voice defying the howl of the wind.
For a brief second, his crimson eyes search mine, but his snow-dusted face remains maddeningly unreadable, with no clue coming through the bond. Just before I sigh in frustration, he rumbles, “Continue.”
“Continue?” My voice tightens with annoyance. “Fine. Where I come from, people don’t tend to laugh like maniacs when they’re fighting for their lives—or watching things get torn to pieces,” Iblurt out with fiery fervor. “Maybe it’s those green fumes from the rituals, or being bonded to you, that’s messing with me,” I frown, the idea comforting—an excuse to ease this gnawing guilt.
The purple sunlight paints the pristine snow as Dracoth stomps it underfoot with surprising speed. I grow irritated, wondering if he even heard me or if he’s just ignoring me like the giant rude prick he sometimes is.
“When I slaughtered the pathetic junkers, you wore the same look... you enjoyed it,” he grumbles, his crimson eyes glinting in the cold dawn.
My hand unconsciously touches Arawnoth’s blessing, scorched into my chest, finding comfort in its throbbing heat despite the bitter truth slapping me across the face like a wet fish. “I mean... ‘enjoyed’ is a strong—”
“Your self-delusions bore me, female,” Dracoth’s low voice slices through the frigid air like one of his monstrous claws. “Why feel shame for what you are?”
“I’m the bore? Really, Dracoth?Really?” I snap, my anger flaring as I shift in his arms to glare up at him, my breathing quickening. He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even look at me.
Infuriating!
I want to get my hooks into him so I can lash out, but he gives nothing away.
“You’re the bore!” I yell, but it sounds weak, like a child throwing a tantrum.
Great, he does think I’m a lunatic.
Wonderful.
I cross my arms, slouching. He can believe whatever he wants. I’m past caring. But there’s a part of me—a treacherous part—that still craves his approval, that yearns for him to accept me.
We continue onward in what should be the most awkward silence. Oddly enough, it’s comforting. Just the warmth of his body and reassuring presence, the steady rhythmic crunch ofsnow beneath his feet, and his deep, wind-tunnel-like breaths. My eyelids grow heavy, and I find myself drifting into brief, blissful naps, lulled by his presence.
When I open my eyes, the world is blurred, and I see reddish trees swaying in the distance.
Huh?
I rub the sleepiness from my eyes, wondering if this is some ice-cube version of a mirage. But the more I scrub, the clearer it becomes—an oasis of towering, rustling trees.
“Trees! Grass!” I gasp, almost leaping out of Dracoth’s arms in excitement. “No more freezing snow and wind!” I nudge Todd from his curled-up nap, holding him toward the strange red-orange foliage. “Look, food!” His mandibles click with excitement, legs skittering in the air, eager for a meal.
“Draxxi,” Dracoth grumbles, a touch of distaste in his tone. I could call this place heaven after enduring the misery of that frozen wasteland behind us.
But my stomach tightens as I realize the lush lands are far below—like, really far—and there’s no path in sight.
“Um... how exactly do we get down there?” I ask, peering up at Dracoth.
“We climb,” he replies, and my heart leaps into my throat.
“Climb,” I repeat, muttering from tight lips.
Brilliant!
“Funny thing, Dracoth,” I say with a nervous laugh, “I’ve never climbed before, and with all this slippery—”
“I’ll carry you,” Dracoth offers. His grumpy tone and rude interruption doing nothing to dampen the wave of relief flooding through my body.
Praise Arawnoth!
“Well, if you insist.” I grin.
