“Of course, I wouldn’t doubt it,” he mutters, extending a wizened hand, expecting me to help him up. I leave the old gas-cloud where he belongs and turn toward Keth.
“Hail Balsar. Order one of his junker ships to pursue the female.” I know Ignixis couldn’t have wiped their navigational logs as well. Keth acknowledges with a nod, his hands moving swiftly over his terminal.
“Clever, young Dracoth,” Ignixis groans like a broken warship as he struggles to his feet. “A waste of resources—but clever.”
His praise grates against me, like a blind warrior praising another’s keen eyes. “But you are mistaken about one thing...” Ignixis continues, letting his words hang like useless bait.As if I’m interested in what the old gas-cloud has to say.
He sighs dramatically before finally continuing. “I never betrayed you. I merely act as a loyal servant of Arawnoth. It is by his molten hand I guide you.” He steps closer, placing an ancient, blackened hand on my wrist plate. “Though you believe I deceived you, my actions are always meant to bring you success. To fulfill your great destiny, Dracoth. You must learn to trust me,” he implores, his tone almost desperate.
I shrug his hand off, the embers of my fury still simmering within. “And my destiny is to abandon females to the void? Is that the greatness you guide me to?” I growl.
“You surprise me, young Dracoth,” Ignixis grins, standing too close. His eyes glint with some twisted amusement. “You show such concern forthem,” he spits the word like bittersnarlbrocjelly. “What has become of the abyssal pit you call a heart? Does it now beat fiercely for these pretty females... You’re not in love, are you?” He leans closer—a vipertail coiling around my mind.
“Hardly, you old fool,” I snap, shoving Ignixis away. He retreats, but not without a mocking snicker.
“Oh, that’s curious,” the old gas-cloud feigns surprise. “You’ve never shown such concern before... What about the poor junkers you splattered all over our lovely walls? Where was the concern for them? Or was it love that drove you to rip out their spines and add them to your belt? Wait, I know the answer—it waslove for the great Arawnoth that drove you!” He bursts into mad laughter, as if he’s just uttered the greatest joke in the universe.
“Balsar has dispatched a ship as you requested, War Chieftain,” Keth declares, his voice monotone.
Good.
I feel a flicker of relief, studying the glowing blue scanner, watching one of the ships break off in pursuit. Perhaps they will reach her before she gets herself killed.A brave fool, that one.It’s a shame she rejected my protection, and a greater shame that I ignored my instincts and let her out of the cell—a mistake I won’t make again.
“I can’t wait for her return,” Ignixis mutters near my ear, startling me with his sudden closeness. “Already I miss being shot at, and that gibberish she would scream endlessly.” He pauses to stare at the navigational screen as I frown down at him. “Ah, such sweet music echoing through these halls.”
Sarcasm. The lowest form of humor.I should expect nothing more from him.
“Was it this hatred that drove you to betray me?” I rumble.
“Hatred?” Ignixis arches a naked brow, his smile twisting into something mocking. “You speak of hatred? You, who is shrouded in hate, clinging like a cloak you can’t remove, suffocating you with every breath?” He shakes his head slowly, his gaze unwavering. “It matters not if I hate these females. Like your father, I wield hate as a weapon. But it does not wield me. In your blind rage, you would kill me—your ally, your mentor—and doom us all.”
I suppress a sigh, regretting giving the old gas-cloud the opportunity for another one of his tiresome rants.
“Ignixis. You know why I let you live,” I command, my voice cold as blades. “Tell me which female is my bonded mate,” I demand, recalling the thin excuse that spared his life.
Ignixis’s eyes narrow, and his smirk fades into a more serious expression. “Oh, you are impatient, young Dracoth.” He takes a slow breath. “Before I answer, remember that everything I say and do is to aid you... correct?” he glares at me, expecting a response I do not give. “No? Then I refuse to answer. Should you murder me in on one of your childish rages.”
“Very well. Now speak,” I challenge, unexpectedly eager to learn which female is destined to be my Mortakin-Kis.
“Give me your hands,” Ignixis commands, extending his own gnarled fingers toward me. I grimace but hold out my arms, expecting some stupid trick or jest. “Hmm, interesting.” He scrutinizes, turning my hands over. “Now open your mouth.”
My anger flares, “This is foolishness, non—”
“Do you want to know or not?” Ignixis cuts in sharply, his piercing green eyes boring into mine. “How else do you expect me to divine the ancestors that reside within you?” I hesitate, having no reply. I shake my head before opening my mouth. “Hmm,” Ignixis tiptoes closer, peering inside. “Smells like dead junkers.”
My face twists with fury that he dares dredge up and mock the sacrilege he committed upon me. I raise my fist, the sinews groaning with rage.
“It’s the one with orange hair!” Ignixis blurts, halting the blow I aimed at his guts.
Sandra...The name ripples through my mind. Of the two, she is the most... tolerable, though I cannot deny my preference for Princesa’s fuller curves.
“Dracoth, tell me what you’re feeling now. This is crucial,” Ignixis urges, scrutinizing every line of my face with a sharp gaze. “Do you feel disappointment, relief? A spark of love or a shadow of despair? Anything!”
“I feel...” The images of the two females flash through my mind, bringing with them a torrent of conflicting emotions:frustration, contempt, and—worse yet—shame. Too much shame. Searching deeper, something else stirs... a curious flutter of excitement.Sandra, with that submissive intense stare and wet lips. Princesa, her beautiful nakedness pressed against me. Strange. Alluring.“...Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Ignixis echoes, incredulous. “That was a lot of silent brooding for ‘nothing.'”
I slowly shake my head, and Ignixis throws up his hands in exasperation. “If it were not for your rages, I’d swear you were as hollow as the other youths.” He rubs his chin, grimacing. “Perhaps the Scythians stripped you of all but your anger?”
