“Enjoy fighting?” Princesa snorts, taking a swig. “Maybe if you’re a giant murder machine, like you.” She frowns before blurting out, “Wait, why are you so massive, anyway? Like, extra massive.” She and Sandra share a giggle, the sounds promising more mischief.
Why does the arrohawk have wings? Why does the venefex have claws?
“Because I’m the son of War Chieftain Gorexius.” I activate my wrist console, ordering more drinks, a lot more—now necessary to endure these mundane questions.
“Was he a giant bore too?” Princesa fires back, laughing deliriously, her inebriation already clear.
Sandra reaches over to nudge her shoulder. “Lexie!” she chides, shaking her head.
Their words are meaningless—a dull buzz in my ears. The cost of power, I will gladly pay if it brings me revenge and my glorious destiny.
“He stood the greatest warrior the universe has ever known.” I say, the weight of his legacy pressing down on me.
Will I ever rise to his heights? How can I, burdened by this shame and weakness?
“To Daddy Dracoth!” Princesa raises her tankard, taking a sip, her face twisting in disgust. “Ugh, can you get me another drink?” She thrusts the empty tankard toward me. “Something a little less sweet, thanks.”
Unmoving, I glare at the annoying female, wondering if the Gods are playing a grand jest at my expense. She releases her tankard, which clatters to the table, rolling to the side. Princesa clicks her tongue, and Sandra quickly moves to tidy up.
“Lexie, don’t ruin this for us, okay?” she snaps.
“Really, Greg?” Princesa throws up her hands. “Really?”
These females interchange names constantly, as if deliberately seeking to confuse. This title must be particularly offensive. Sandra’s face flushes even redder, her eyes narrowing at Princesa, who crosses her arms beneath her large breasts.
“Me? I’m ruining it? Not you two bores?”
I should gag her.
Suddenly, the food hall’s ornate wooden door slams open with a deafening crash. A cold gust sweeps into the room, causing the flames in the large hearth to flutter. I spring to my feet, my eyes locking on the three approaching warriors—long, gray-haired veterans with the hardened faces of Klendathians who have lived by violence.
Good.I smile at the welcome reprieve from the females. Let them come.
Let them test me.
Chapter 27
Dracoth
Dare
“Friendsofyours?”Sandramutters, her voice trembling with unease.
“Stay back,” I command, sweeping my arm to push the females behind me, my focus never leaving the intruders.
Their armor is dull gray, dented and scarred from countless battles.
“Clan Draxxus,” I sneer. “Why do you disturb me?” I growl, my voice low and menacing.
“Where is the coward Ignixis and the traitor Drexios?” demands the veteran with the black eye patch, his voice slicing through the now deathly silent room.
The other two warriors’ gazes roam over me, lingering on the Hemo-Tok at my belt. I smirk, noticing how even their hardenedhearts waver at the sight of it. If I could, I would add their spines to my collection—the spines of true warriors. But Ignixis’s words echo in my mind: to kill them is to condemn my soul.
“I do not know,” I reply, shrugging my broad shoulders as I release the females’ chains from my belt—they’ll just get in the way, as they always do.
The one-eyed veteran’s expression tightens, his gaze flicking to the two females. “We know you arrived with Ignixis. Tell us, Magaxus shorthair, and we’ll overlook this...” He gestures dismissively to the chains on the ground. “...indiscretion.”
Shorthair!
