I stare at her, perhaps more intently than I should. “You mean he doesn’t?—”
“Oh, no, he does. Just not super often. He wants a companion more than anything else.”
I twist my lips. Is that what my Dread wants from me? Just someone to talk to?
“His chattiness gives me all the best gossip. But Haze is one everyone seems to know so little about. He was never part of the community, preferring to keep to himself. He never chose a Drahkita before now, and he did it by battling his commander.” She shakes her head. “Astonishing.”
“His commander?”
“Oh, yes. Ivar was his squad leader. Really powerful. Haze comes from this old line of powerful Drak, but he never really lived up to expectations. So, this whole thing is a surprising shift. If you stick around, you’ll probably be a legend.”
“Me?”
“The woman who brought Haze to life! He could be one of the strongest warriors who’s ever fought for the Ancient One. There’s already rumors he could bring the blight to?—”
“Shhhh,” Jullian says, nudging her with an elbow.
“Oh, sorry. We’re not supposed to talk about that stuff. My mouth just runs away with me sometimes.” She looks down at the water, her cheeks red.
“You’re not supposed to talk about… the blight?”
“Shhhh,” Jullian says harshly. “Don’t even say the word. It’s prophecy stuff with the priestesses. They’re weird about it. Believe me, you don’t want to get on their bad side.”
Why would it be bad to talk about it? Why would it make the priestesses mad?
I don’t press the issue, though, because I’m far from firm footing as it is. I don’t need to know their religious beliefs or even their goals.
I need to know the route out of this place, so I can get the hell out before I become the next addition to the dungeon.
45
Lina
Imake sure to slip an extra roll and an apple into my bag during dinner that night while everyone was busy chatting about new arrivals.
“Does that happen every week?” I ask, pretending to be part of the conversation. “New arrivals?”
“Every weekend, yes! But not always to our quarter, though. All the new people might go elsewhere, and we’ll never see them. Sometimes, our quarter won’t get any new Drahkitas or servants; others, we get several,” Cordy says, her eyes shining with interest. “This week, there was a large convoy, I’ve heard. The dungeon is packed. There was even a witch among them.”
I freeze, muffin still in hand. “A witch?”
Jullian smacks her upper arm. “We do not speak of heretics,” she reprimands and then gives me a wide-eyed look that screams for me to drop it.
Heretic.I remember the word from my first few hours here. They thought I was a heretic.
Conversation shifts to the new Drahkita and which Drak claimed her.
“A skinny thing,”
“They’re always so skinny. Poor souls. The outworld is getting darker and darker.”
Yes,I want to tell them. It’s darker because of the violence of the Drak. Because they ensure no one but they survive.
I casually take a sip of the bitter wine Helena served me.
I can feel the shift in energy before we see them. The girls continue chatting, but my eyes shift to the rounded opening until their stomping becomes audible.
The warriors are capable of surprising stealth, but they don’t tend to use it in the fortress. One of the Drahkitas stops speaking mid-sentence, all attention on the doorway.
