A memory flashes—sharp and sudden. A white room, a cold chair. The female with sad green eyes and long braided hair. She used to sing to me. I remember now—I smiled at her, even though the tune always sounded so pitiful.
“Never speak of my parents again!” I shout, my voice trembling with fury.
Princesa recoils in my arms, her defiance faltering for the first time, yet she still refuses to fully submit.
“UNDERSTAND?” I repeat, shaking her harder, rattling her entire body like a mere toy.
“Yes!” she cries out, her mocking laughter finally replaced with frightened sobs.
“Good,” I growl. “Because I swear on the ancestors, I will abandon you to the deserts of Nardune if you mock them again.”
The vow escapes my lips, strong and unbreakable—like the one I swore against Krogoth. The oath that sustains me.
At last, we reach the meat market. The once-bustling center of commerce now lies quiet, save for a few sleeping animals curled in their cages. The faint hum of our glider cuts throughthe stillness, hovering just above the ground, its door open and waiting.
I urge Sandra into the vehicle, her wide eyes flickering with a mix of fear and wonder as they trace the craft’s sleek length.
I lay the weeping Princesa down on the leather seat in the back, deciding it is safer to keep the unstable female away from the navigation controls. Sandra settles beside her, whispering soothing words to the female—the one who brings about her own misfortune.
The blue navigation controls light up, and the glider smoothly lifts into the air, setting course for Scarn. So much has changed since I fled that place after Zyraxis’s failed attempt on Krogoth’s life—my damning shame. There is much work to do to restore my honor and reclaim my rightful place as War Chieftain. But first comes the title of Chieftain of Magaxus.
Outside, the landscape of Klendathor blurs into a streak of darkness and distant lights, the glider moving with incredible speed. The ride would be peaceful if not for the molten hatred in my chest, urging me to crush Krogoth’s throat. Every idle moment, every passing second, is consumed by this singular, burning desire for revenge.
My eyelids grow heavy as time fades away, the rhythmic hum of the engines lulling me into a hazy calm. I glance over my shoulder at the two females, both snoring loudly. They look innocent and peaceful curled up with their eyes closed—but I know better.
Princesa is trouble. And trouble never sleeps.
Chapter 28
Alexandra
Scarn
Iawakenfromanightmare,gasping for breath, chased through a strange world of ice by terrifying creatures. The images slip away like water through my fingers, dissolving with every ragged inhale. I close my eyes, hoping to glimpse that world of flames again—the place that burned away the dark pit inside my soul and filled me with surging life. But even that memory is fading, leaving behind a darkness that grows stronger with each passing day.
Awareness dawns slowly, bringing with it an awful headache that feels like a herd of stampeding elephants through my skull. My mouth is parched, despite the lingering taste of something sweet and fruity on my dry tongue. But these problems are nothing compared to the memories.Oh God, the memories!Each one stabs at me like an itchy, uncut clothing tag I can’t escape. I curl up tighter, retreating further into the warm furs.
It’s awful. All of it.
Calling Sandra Greg. Screaming like a banshee through the streets, getting Dracoth in trouble. Fuck, this is bad. Not just ‘Lexie being a little rude’ bad, but ‘I seriously messed up’ bad.Ugh, and I licked Dracoth’s hand and told him he couldn’t get it up... Kill me now! I’ve really screwed up.
I take a deep breath. How was I supposed to know how strong those drinks were? If Dracoth had warned me, none of this would’ve happened. And honestly, some of those things needed to be said. He thinks he can just cart us around like fashionable handbags without giving us anything in return? So what if I let my hair down after the disgraceful way he’s treated me? Yeah, you know what?
Fuck him.
As I shift under the cozy furs, I hear the clanking of chains and suddenly a question comes to mind—where the hell am I?
I peek out from behind the covers like a mouse sniffing for cheese, and see I’m lying at the foot of a bed—or rather a makeshift pallet of furs—chained to a piece of stone furniture.
The surrounding room is cave-like, carved from hard, gleaming black stone, as if I’m deep within a mountain. Glowing veins of orange and red thread through the walls like molten spider webs, casting an eerie, dim light across the cavernous space. The cave is huge, with an exit leading out toward a narrow tunnel.
I tug at the metal collar on my neck, straining for air. It is stifling here, a simmering heat as if I’m trapped in a sauna. The surfaces look like they should be cool and damp, but the floor beneath me radiates warmth, scorching my skin. There must be a hidden furnace heating the entire chamber.
Sudden movement catches my eye, sending my heart pounding into my throat. It’s hard to see clearly in the dim glow. I frown, hearing the familiar wind-tunnel-like breathing from the giant bore, Dracoth. Except he’s even louder now that he’s snoring, approaching jet-engine levels of turbulence.
His massive, muscular red body glistens in the shimmering haze, a living embodiment of raw, male meathead-ary. He is so impossibly large, strong, and unstoppable. I recall what he did to those gray-haired fighters who came. They were bloody huge and scary-looking themselves! Yet Dracoth, with a flash of savage movement, knocked them senseless as if they were nothing. It was crazy!
Longing creeps into my chest as I watch him sleeping, imagining what it’d be like to be fucked by such a brutal man. My breath hitches, and my hand brushes over my chest.
