Has she finally come to terms with her new reality, or does her newfound confidence stem from a plan of escape?
Then Sandra—the one with the beautiful hair of fire—rises to her feet, drawing my attention. She covers her nudity; her clothes little more than torn ribbons, her pale skin crisscrossed with streaks of peculiar dried red blood—an intriguing color. Annoyance flares within me—that she’s been left in this state.I’ll need to remedy this.Yet, despite her wounds, when our eyes meet, she does not cower, but offers a smile, not her usual terror or tears.
Something has changed in them. Perhaps a new ploy to lower my guard?
“Loca!” Carmen snaps, stalking towards the other end of the cell, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she adds before muttering more disjointed fierymumbling. I watch her with a keen eye, knowing she’s the agitator, though herwarrior’sspirit pleases me, even if it’s encased in such a feeble body.
“Dracoth,” Princesa says, the sound of my actual name on her squeaky tongue, a surprising rarity, drawing my attention. “Igniter had us shot.”
Igniter?
“Ignixis,” Carmen corrects with folded arms, leaning against the far wall. “Hijo de putafromInfiernois what he is!” She spits on the floor in disgust.
“Whatever,” Princesa waves a dismissive hand. “But we didn’t do anything!” Her silver eyes plead, searching mine, but I remain immovable, harder than the crags of Scarn. “We helped you when you collapsed...”
My anger seethes at her words.I collapsed? Such a thing implies weakness, vulnerability—I feel my stomach churning in disgust, like when I discovered Ignixis fed me that revolting cocktail of flesh.
My crimson eyes snap to hers, leaking wisps of my fury.
“Um...” she falters, taking a step back as her fingers fidget. “Anyway, it was dark, and we were scared, okay? Surroundedby all that horrible blood and guts. So when Demon Egg-Head started yelling...” She glances over her shoulder at Carmen, who merely tuts. “Carmen may have said something rude. But, I mean, who’s to say for sure? The place was a madhouse, tempers wereraised; we were frightened.”
I suppress a groan. This female, despite her pleasing form, speaks much nonsense—so much so she reminds me of the old gas-cloud. Why do people use so many words when few will suffice? Like a trick, they attempt to overwhelm and distract, giving the illusion of knowledge, when theyblatheruselessly, wasting my time.
“But that’s no reason to shoot us!” Princesa continues, finally getting to her point. A disappointing point—is this what they summoned me for? It’s a little less grating than the usual pitiful pleas to go home, but equally fruitless. “I have an enormous bruise on my head from when I fell.” She stomps closer to the bars, pulling back a lock of blond hair to reveal a tiny patch of purple on her forehead. I squint, barely seeing it. “What if I got a concussion, and my brainswells... Fuck, I could have a stroke any second! You should be keeping me safe.”
She glares at me, eyes ablaze, expecting an answer to her absurdity. I stare back, bewildered, though none could tell by looking at me. Is this female serious, or is this some form of mockery? The ways of aliens differ from us Klendathians—we who speak our minds with plain intent. Well, except the old gas-cloud. He spent too much time abroad in the company of aliens, pursuing females. The old letch.
I’m tempted to walk away from such nonsense, a waste of my time, until I remember my plan to try a different approach—one of softness, although such an effort is beneath me, an aberration to my molten soul.
“A mere scuff is enough to kill a human?” I ask, frowning at the female, doubting she’s serious, but if she is, then humans are even more fragile than I thought possible.
My question, for reasons beyond me, only seems to irritate her further. “No!” Princesa snaps, confusing me more. It’s like I’ve entered a realm of chaos. “That’s not what I meant!” Her temper flares.Then why speak the words?“Listen, you big—”
“What Alexandra means,” Sandra interjects, stepping forward with a soothing hand directed toward the fuming Princesa.
I glance between the two females, their multitude of names confusing me further.They have more titles than the vainglorious high merchants!
An unsettling sense of being lost burrows into my mind. It’s almost enough to wish Ignixis was here—almost.
“Is that he terrifies us, and we think it’s unfair what he did, after we helped you.” Sandra continues, her eyes searching mine, a silent plea for action.
Is it revenge they seek? Reassurances?“Ignixis has been dealt with,” I growl, though his so-called punishment is sweet bliss. Only for one as twisted as him would pleasure equate pain.
But my words don’t satisfy the females. Their tension remains palpable, etched into their faces.Are they mercenaries, seeking payment for whatever supposed aid they rendered?It makes sense, birthed from a planet devoid of meaning, awash in softness and hedonism—materialism may motivate them.
Disappointing.
“What does that even mean?” Princesa presses, her frustration irking me. “Ignixis has been dealt with,” she mimics, mocking me with a deep voice that doesn’t come close to the real thing. “We could have escaped, but we didn’t.” She glances back at Carmen before continuing. “We could have done worse, with you napping on the job and all those guns lying around. I think we’ve earned some trust—”
“Silence!” Fury seethes within my molten flesh. Thisfemale’sinfuriating implicationstwistsmy lips andspillsforth my crimson Rush. Sandra and Princesa recoil at my rage, at my power. Likeznatsbefore a flame, they burn before my intensity. This is what meekness earns—open disdain and disrespect.
“You speak of trust, while in the same breath, threaten me! As ifyoucould ever harm me—the War Chieftain!” I roar, gripping the cell bars with molten hands, almost twisting them to broken things. It’d be easy, a mere trifle for one such as me. “You think your existence here is bleak?” I ask, my voice dripping seething scorn, glancing between the two stunned females. “Had I let theWhores Orphanstake you, you would have begged to return here, begging for my protection! And yet here you stand, lacking gratitude; instead, you dare challenge me? Presume to tell me what to do! You who have done nothing. Earned nothing!”
My words erupt like a volcano, my frustration spilling forth. I glare at them, my wordshanging, scorching the very air with intensity. Carmen’s eyes widen as Sandra and Princesa stumble backward, their eyes downcast. Only the black-haired female remains strong, continuing to nibble on her ration, studying me, unperturbed.
A sweltering tense silence lingers as my anger lessens, my breathing steadying. I straighten, releasingmyhold of the bars, now bent and contorted. As I move to leave the tiresome females to their inane thoughts, resigned to drag them kicking and screaming to the great temple of Lanaisor if need be. Let the Gods sort through this madness, let them decide.
“Real smooth, Princesa.” Carmen mocks, tapping her foot against the wall.
