Chapter 46
Alexandra
Lanaisor
Thecracklingoffireand 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 reallyspeak 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 needhim.
If I can learn the sacred words, maybe I can hold on to Arawnoth forever, make sure he never turns his back on me.
