by Zoey Ellis
“I think what made a difference was that we did really care about each other. My mama and papa constantly talked about the importance of family, and the need to laugh and find joy every day, even when things seem hopeless.” She hesitated, remembering some of the years on the streets of the North. “And sometimes things really were hopeless,” she whispered. “Terrible things happened. We lost people. We lost children. People were hurt. Some of us had to starve at times so others could make sure the whole faction ate later. Hard decisions had to be made to ensure the faction could retain everything it had gained.”
“There were children in the faction?” Pelles asked.
“Yes. I think that was one of the reasons we survived so long. We were trained to approach life during war a certain way—a way that made us feel like we were safe, because we’d always have each other.” Elora looked around the room. “I think that’s important for wherever we are.”
Many of the servants grinned at her, murmuring in agreement.
“Why do you speak of your faction in the past tense?” Cyndra asked.
Elora tensed, but tried not to make it obvious. “I’m not with them anymore, that’s all.”
The dragorai moved forward, down the middle of the room toward Elora and the servants fell silent. He stopped directly in front of her chair, looking down on her and blocking her view from the rest of the room. He raised a hand to the other servants. “Dismissed.”
The servants rose and filed out of the room as quickly and as quietly as possible, while Elora and Zendyor’s eyes remained on each other.
“You are trying to do that here,” he stated. “Recreate your faction in this lair with my staff, even though you do not have a position. Is this what you did in my brother’s lair?”
“No,” Elora said, affronted. “But I think we should have some kind of similar community among us here.”
“Your experiences with your faction were events that cannot be replaced or recreated,” the dragorai said. “You all shared a highly stressful and unique situation that you all endured together. My lair is not like that. It is steady; it is monotonous. Everyone comes from different backgrounds and different parts of the Twin Realms and they come to work, not to find a new family. This will never be your faction.”
“I don’t want them to be my faction,” Elora insisted. “Nothing can replace my faction. They were my family. I just want to feel like this can be home, somewhere that I belong.”
“Did you have a man tend to you when you were with them?” A layer of deep displeasure entered his tone. “Are you missing someone specific?”
“No,” Elora insisted. “I miss my mama and papa the most, but I miss them all.”
Zendyor said nothing, observing her as she looked back up at him. He leaned forward, his midnight eyes deepening. “You will move into my chambers tonight. I’m tired of having to wait for you when you are needed in my bed.”
Elora swallowed, a mix of emotions tumbling through her.
“And when you come to my bed tonight,” he continued, “you will tell me everything I want to know. What happened to your faction, why you dislike the Goddess, and how you crossed my range. No excuses, no lies. The truth. Or I will be forced to send you back to the North Cities.”
8
Elora sat on her bed, twirling the corner of her blanket through her fingers as she stared into space, her mind focused on what Zendyor had said.
His tone was different this time—he’d been more serious than any of the other times he’d bought it up or questioned her. Obviously, she didn’t do anything special to get across his range, but would he believe her this time? And yes, she’d tried to avoid giving him the other information, which he didn’t need, but those were things she had avoided talking about, or even thinking about for a reason.
But the threat to go back to the North Cities was too great. If that happened, she would never be able to find a safe place again, and she would most certainly die within a few days of being without a faction.
A knock fell on the door, and Marahl stepped through.
“Good day,” Elora breathed, pleased to see her. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time. Thank you for coming.”
Marahl stepped in and closed the door behind her. “Of course.” She sat on the chair in front of the desk. “How are you?”
“I am… I’m not good,” Elora admitted. “Our lord wants me to give him information I do not have or do not want to part with simply because he is curious.”
Marahl inclined her head. “Unfortunately, you are in his lair. If he requires information, you must give it to him if you want to appease him.”
“But what if it’s private?” Elora said. “What if it would distress me severely to talk about it.”
“Anything that is distressing to you is his right to know if he is providing you shelter, Elora,” Marahl said gently. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but giving him this information may help you and the rest of the lair in more ways than you might think.”
“I don’t see how it can,” Elora said stubbornly. “He thinks I did something special to cross his range when all I did was hurry across as quickly as I could. I don’t have any magical skill to hide myself or deflect any kind of detection he has, and I certainly would not have entered, at all, if I’d known that in the end I would be sent back to the North Cities.”
Marahl smiled at her, though her eyes were sad. “Yes, you would have,” she said gently. “You still would have cherished all the time you had at Nyro’s lair with all the friends you made. And you certainly still would have spent the time you’ve had here improving the lives of our servants and getting to know them.”
Elora peered at her. “So you approve of what I’ve been doing with the servants?”
“Of course,” Marahl said. “It has been fascinating to watch. We, the stewards, been never been firmly against it, but there’s never been enough time or manpower to do what you’ve managed to do. And in all honesty, we weren’t sure it was something we wanted to encourage in this lair.”
“Why?”
“Because our lord is so… temperamental. There is no guarantee he would work well with groups of his staff gathering. He is fierce and turbulent, he doesn’t need his lair disorganized. And he is very particular over rules, as you know. Putting together all the variables, it made no sense to risk angering him or having anybody getting hurt, just so that the servants could spend a little bit more time with each other. Initially we were thinking of pairing servants together to finish tasks quicker, but we never thought about it the way you did it. It has been exciting for us to watch it happen.”
Elora nodded, glad she understood. “Your servants work hard. They deserve more.”
“I know,” Marahl said. “That is why we didn’t stop you.”
“But you’ve been avoiding me.”
Marahl shook her head. “I’ve been getting out of your way. You needed to be free to show the other servants who you are without being reminded of how you came here.” She shot Elora a look. “Isn’t that what you told me? To give you a chance?”
Elora chuckled and Marahl smiled with her.
“But regarding your talk with him, I must point something out to you that I don’t think you’ve considered.”
Elora frowned. “What?”
“You being able to cross his land undetected is a safety issue that affects all of us. As a dragorai, he needs to feel that his territory is secure, so if you did nothing, he needs to know that.”
“I told him. He doesn’t believe me.”
Marahl shrugged. “Then give him more.”
“What do you mean?”
“He is trying to understand you, Elora. Let him.”
Elora nodded, biting her lip in thought.
“Their territories being safe is even more important, as is trusting the people in their lairs.” She smiled. “Just be honest. If you want the chance for a true home here, allow him to find a way to trust you. If you want to belong her
e, you have to share that part of yourself that you find difficult to talk about.”
Elora looked down at her hands. “What if he uses it against me?”
“Why would he?” Marahl asked. She gestured around the room. “He’s moving you into his chambers. He is clearly attached to you. Isn’t it worth the risk rather than going back to the war?”
Elora wandered the corridors of the lair, loneliness creeping up on her again even though she was far from lonely now.
She hadn’t helped to assist any of the servants today, but they still greeted her warmly wherever she went—they knew that plans could be disrupted.
She found herself drifting up to where the dragon’s den was, though she was unsure why she was even heading in that direction. Thankfully he wasn’t there, so she tidied up his den and put all of his scattered treasures in the “treasure bucket” and the bones and chunks of old meat into the waste bucket.
She filled the wash bucket and busied herself cleaning, keeping her mind empty. But after she emptied the water off the edge of the opening, she couldn’t avoid the troubling thoughts from swirling in her mind anymore.
Wandering back to the den, she walked around the space, breathing in the smoky smell as her mind weighed her predicament. Marahl’s advice was good, and Elora would prefer not to lie to Zendyor. But he’d never been very accommodating. He’d branded her a criminal and a liar when she first arrived, and had broken her arm in multiple places because she’d hesitated to answer a question. He had proven himself ruthless in that way. What if he didn’t like what she had to say? What if he was offended by it? There were worse things he could do to her than what could happen to her in the North.
She leaned against one of the walls and slid down to the floor, sighing and rubbing her forehead. And yet what was the alternative? If she was caught in a lie, he’d certainly send her back and probably not before doing some damage to her. While she was his treasure, he wouldn’t keep her if she compromised safety—he’d already threatened her.
In her contemplation, she forgot she was supposed to be watching the skies. It was only when a piercing screech ricocheted through the den that she realized she’d forgotten where she was.
The dragon was already through the opening before she had time to get up. He landed with a slight skid, his claws scraping the den floor. Elora pressed herself against the wall, swallowing the scream in her throat, her heart pounding so fast it was a thrum in her chest. How was she going to get out!
The dragon turned around in the space, his tail whipping past her as noises rumbled from him. Elora stared up at him and almost whimpered. She never thought she’d ever be this close to such a huge, violent creature.
He released a steady stream of steam from his mouth over the center of the floor, particularly in the pit, drying it from her scrubbing, and then dropped a few shiny items from one of his feet over the treasure bucket. A couple of them bounced out and skidded nearby.
He then settled down into the pit, taking some time to fix himself comfortably, his legs underneath him, his wings resting over his body.
Elora didn’t dare to move. She’d have to wait until the creature went to sleep before she tried to get out, or maybe even wait until he left again, even though that could be hours from now.
But as time went on, it didn’t seem the dragon was sleeping. His gleaming eyes were open and alert—he appeared to be watching her as though he was waiting for something.
Elora had never thought about what dragons actually did when they were in their den, apart from sleep. This one ate the remains of whatever he hunted in here, and he liked to collect shiny objects. But was that all they returned to do in the den? If he wasn’t sleeping, did that mean he would go back out again soon? She kept herself still against the wall, her legs bent, arms around her knees waiting for a chance to escape.
Surprisingly, this dragon could stay quite still when it wanted to.
Zendyor’s dan askha was much like the man himself, watchful and dominating in any space he was in.
Elora couldn’t even try to sneak out while he was fussing or eating, because he wasn’t doing any of that—he remained completely still. However, this gave her a chance to examine him closer.
He was beyond beautiful, and even more so close up. The black of his scales was highly saturated, as though if she touched him he’d be velvety soft. But each scale had a tint to it, which was not that noticeable in the den, but when he was in the sky it reflected a golden gleam. His spikes and claws were certainly intimidating, especially the parts that looked like dried blood on his claws, but while calm and peaceful even those parts of him made him even more majestic-looking. She noticed a patch on the back of his neck, that appeared as though the scales were a different texture, but with his tremendous height it was mostly obscured from her view. The span of his wings were the length of his body—huge. They were simply the most impressive things she’d ever seen.
Eventually, her legs began to ache, so she slowly straightened them out to give herself a measure of relief. Unfortunately, that was when the dragon began moving. Standing up in his pit, he stepped over to the treasure bucket and pulled out a small object which clamored to the ground. Elora couldn’t see what it was. He moved it with his nose to an area on its own and then reared back, opened his mouth, and breathed a cascade of blazing fire onto it.
Elora gasped, sudden heat filling up the space and rushing over her, prickling at her skin. By the time she realized she should be escaping the room, the dragon had stopped. The item had melted into a solid, twisted lump. The dragon leaned down again, sniffed it, and then with his front paw batted it over so it landed right next to Elora. She froze, holding her breath. But the dragon didn’t move toward her. Instead he began turning around in his pit. Elora glanced down at the steaming lump, and her mouth dropped open. It looked like solid gold, the kind that was still revered in the South and treasured by the queen, but it had slight waves etched into it, scattered in a random pattern that must have been created by his fire. Were all of his items made of this? It hadn’t seemed so to her, but maybe when melted down this was what he was collecting. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on it.
She eased herself onto her feet and crept around the edge of the lair while the dragon was still turning in the pit; she was careful to keep a close eye on his tail in case it hit her. When he finally settled down, she was at the other side of the den, near the doorway, but stopped and slid back down the wall into a sitting position again as he settled down into stillness.
Almost immediately, he filled the den with a low grunting sound and got up again. Stepping with his front paws toward the gold lump where she had been sitting, he batted it over to her again. Then, grunting and rumbling he moved back to sit in the pit.
Elora stared down at the lump of gold, astonished. She slowly rose to her feet, an inkling of bravery blooming into what was probably outright foolishness.
“Is this for me?” she said softly.
The dragon sat completely still, and Elora looked down at the gold again. It was cooling but still not cool enough to touch.
“Thank you,” she said to him.
Again, the dragon remained still, almost as if watching her to see if she would take it. She waited until the lump was cool enough for her to hold and then lifted it with care in her hands. It was weighty but not too heavy for her to carry with both hands.
Slowly, she walked to the door, keeping her eye on the dragon, who finally rested his head down.
When she reached the door she smiled at him. “Sleep well,” she said softly and then made her way back down to the main lair.
By the time she reached her quarters, the confusion within her had settled, and her interaction with the dragon lifted her spirits considerably. By all reasoning he should have eaten her, or at least torn her apart for being in his den. But maybe this was a sign. If she could find a way to become friendly with Zendyor’s dan askha, surely she could get through to the alpha himself.
She placed her lump of gold on her bookshelf, twisting it around until it looked just right. Then she took a deep breath and went to assist some of the servants.
Of course, when Elora arrived at his chambers, Zendyor took her to bed first, wringing pleasure from her in every possible way. He took delight in manipulating her with his tongue, teasing her with his teeth, and caressing her with his fingers. He knotted her all over the room, as if gratifying himself that she was now a resident of his chambers and he wanted to mark the moment with her slick and his seed all over the room.
Elora submitted herself to it, allowing the brutal pleasure and sensory delight to overwhelm her, taking comfort in him while she could. He knotted her more times than she could count, and finally, in the early hours of the morning as she awoke from a doze. He held her underneath him against his body, propping himself up on his elbow. As he looked down at her, she could almost see the questions forming in his mind.
“I didn’t do anything special to cross your range,” she blurted out. “I promise you. I crossed into it from the valley that leads to the North, and just kept going until I reached the meeting point for Nyro’s lair. I went as fast as I could, and I tried to keep myself hidden, in case you saw me. I heard your dragon a few times, and even saw him once, but I hid. I didn’t realize there had been any further detection. It wasn’t ever my intention to cross—I only did it because I was late.”
Zendyor’s eyes searched her own for a long moment. “Why were you late?”
“I was almost captured by another faction,” she said. “They’d heard that there was a lone omega with no protection in the vicinity and they wanted me. I had to hide in a temple for three days, hoping and praying that they wouldn’t find me, and it made me late. But I couldn’t afford to miss my opportunity. I thought if I crossed your land one of two things would happen. I’d either make it to the meeting point and end up safe in your brother’s lair or you would kill me and I would be free of this life forever. So either way, it was an attractive risk.”