Between the steady sound of the falling cascade splashing into the pool, the smell of the soap, and the warmth of water, all energy seeps from my limbs, and my eyes begin to droop.
I jerk to attention when water splashes against my face.
“No sleeping, Drahkita Lina,” she chides.
I blink back the fear, realizing I am still in a safe place.
“I am tired,” I drawl. I did sleep for a few hours last night, but between the events of the last few days, I haven’t had nearly enough rest.
“Let’s wash your hair, then we will go for a walk to get your blood moving again.”
She dunks my head under the hot water, and the shock of it snaps my mind back to attention. She lathers the soap into my hair aggressively and hands me a cloth to wash my face while she works.
It’s strange to have someone caring for me in this way.
“You were born here,” I say.
“Mmhmm.”
“Is this your job? Your role? Being a caretaker of travelers?”
“You are no longer a traveler. You are now a Drahkita. I care for Drahkitas, yes.”
“And if you were born a boy?”
Her fingers pause their work, and I wish I could see her face. I glance over my shoulder, but I still cannot read her expression.
“I had three brothers,” she says quietly.
“Had?”
“I now have one. He is a Drak warrior. A rider.”
“And what happened to the other two?”
“One died during training when he was just fourteen years old. Another died during the drakai choosing. He was… not chosen.”
I frown. “They killed him for not being chosen?”
“The Drak’yn people did not kill him. The drakai did.”
I swallow, remembering my brief encounter with the reptilian beast before the Dread fought for the right to claim me.
I want to ask her more. About her brothers and their roles. About hers. But I also want honest answers about how she feels about it all, and I don’t suspect she will give that honesty yet, so I let the moment fade away.
“Go under the water, Drahkita. Rinse the oils from your body and hair then meet me on the shore. You are almost ready tocomplete your transformation so you can take your place in the Drak’yn Den!”
24
Haze
My first kill sucked my soul dry. This was by design.
I was sixteen. They set him in front of me, a terrified boy a few years younger, bound and gagged. Presented to me like a gift.
It plays in my mind over and over.
I still remember the look in his eyes. I remember the crunch and squish as my blade slid into his chest. I remember his gasp.
