The Price of Survival

by Meagan Hurst

  The Dragon glared at her. “Do you want to come onto the field?” he demanded to know.

  “Not right this second,” she admitted with a frown. It bothered her, but Midestol was a person of interest, and she found she wasn’t as ready to be alongside those who had raised her as she wanted to be. At least no one here seemed too angry over the fact she’d saved the Dark Mage again.

  Triumphant, the Dragon turned back to the Islierre. “Your other point?”

  “When the time comes, are you going to allow Zimliya to marry—or engage in some sort of relationship—or should we all just expect you to eat anyone who comes in contact with her?”

  Crilyne and the Mithane both sucked in their breath in surprise, and they glanced sidelong at the Dragon. To her relief, Nivaradros merely raised a brow. “I am not allowed to have much of a say in her life in that manner,” he said in an irritated tone. “She already put her foot down on that.”

  “And you’re following that rule so well.”

  Nivaradros snorted smoke. “She has yet to ask me to back off.”

  “She’s tired still, Nivaradros, and I believe she is dealing with a lot. I am surprised she hasn’t snapped at either one of us yet. But since she hasn’t, you should be concerned about her lack of temper.”

  “Enough, Islierre,” Z said softly before the Dragon could reply. “I believe he gets it.” The Ryelention glanced at her in surprise but nodded once before falling silent. His gaze, however, returned to the Dragon, who was now watching her. And the last thing she needed was Nivaradros getting any more protective over her.

  “This is truly something, Zimliya,” the Mithane remarked as he looked up from her images. “I don’t think these would have saved any lives—not with the healers at our disposal and their limitations—but these certainly could save lives in the future. You will have to show me how you make them.” His eyes were their brown-black mixture, and he was making an effort to ignore the Islierre’s presence.

  “I am certain you can make them without much effort—” she began to say, but yet another uninvited guest arrived, and she automatically froze.

  The Thinyen took in his surroundings briefly in silence before his eyes found her. Immediately their color shifted from irritated to furious, and Z felt herself lean back in her chair as a result.

  “No!” the immortal leader gasped as he stared at her. “How dare you—” he continued, but his words were cut off as the Dragon began to growl, and it was a rumble that caused the ground to shake slightly.

  The Mithane’s sword also appeared on the table in front of him. Sheathless and glowing, the threat it implied was clear. If the Thinyen continued his sentence things weren’t going to stay pleasant. Crilyne’s eyes glittered their coldest black as well, and a small glow of magic began to shimmer the air before him. But perhaps the most impressive and unexpected display was the Islierre’s. His hands began to glow with shadow, his eyes couldn’t have gotten any deeper orange; in this light, they almost appeared red.

  “I would advise,” he said in his most dangerous whisper, “you reconsider your current stance. You are upsetting Zimliya, and if you want the world to end, you will be foolish enough to make an attempt on her life. If, however, you want the world to continue—and your life, I might add—you will sit down. Shut up. And behave.”

  Z stared at him in astonishment and knew everyone else was staring at him as well. Of all the immortal rulers, the Islierre was one of the most dangerous. He’d been mostly civil enough to her in his kingdom, but she also knew of at least seven attempts on her life he had arranged in the very beginning. She hadn’t expected his protection. In fact, if she had considered it, he would have been one of the rulers she would have put on the list of being out to get her. It was another reminder of just how much he had been on her side lately, and it made her suspicious. She wondered what had changed with him.

  He inclined his head to her as she stared at him. “Don’t look so surprised,” he chided, though his tone was kind. “It’s unbecoming for an immortal, even one newly come.” The generally indifferent lines of his flawless face softened though when she couldn’t quite manage it. “I saw you as a mortal when we first met,” he told her quietly. “Just a mortal. Short-lived, useless, and a waste of a life form. It took a while for me to realize you were in no way useless, and you were anything but a waste of life, but the short-lived part you couldn’t shake, and it became more of a scar. I remained withdrawn, unlike my son and so many others, because I knew what would come to pass, and soon, but that is no longer the issue it was. Your death is a possibility, not a guarantee. I should have been more open in the beginning, Zimliya, but I truly thought you wouldn’t even make it to this unremarkable age. I let my son get attached, and I held myself at bay. I hope you will consider forgiving me.”

  His short speech only made it that much harder not to stare at him. It occurred to her then she had possibly judged the Ryelention entirely wrong from the beginning. Pressing her lips together as she reevaluated what she had thought was disinterest in her, Z considered all the new ways of handling this information.

  “I appreciate your regard,” she managed to say formally at long last, and she did. She was touched, flattered, surprised, and suspicious. Suspicion was always required with immortals.

  His smile was shadowed, but amused. “You pick formality at the oddest of times.” The shadows were still dancing dangerously in his hands as he regarded the Thinyen. “Well? What is your decision?” he demanded sharply.

  “She is an abomination!” the Thinyen hissed, his eyes their deepest rose color. “Honestly, Yasyan, she can call your kingdom from you, and it doesn’t bother you that she is now harder to kill?”

  “I would find it concerning if she were an enemy of mine. She has always been a threat; this just makes her more entertaining. Will you truly throw away everything you know about her, everything she has done, just because of a change she never wanted? She did this to save us, I presume?” he added, with a glance at her. She nodded once tensely as she watched the immortal she had once gotten along with so well. The Thinyen was now a danger to her. “Why are you punishing her for it?”

  “If this was the cost to keep her alive, Dragon, you should have killed her instead!”

  Nivaradros’s eyes were at their brightest. “I was not—I still am not—about to let her die. She has done too much, and she is as much of a threat to the rest of us as each one of us is to each other. Except she is less of one. She makes no move without thinking things through. If you need proof of that recall Tenia. She guarded them until she no longer could, and she should have exterminated them long before she did.” He stood then and moved to stand behind her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, Nivaradros presumably stared the Thinyen down. “You will not touch her,” he hissed coldly. “If you do—if you so much as brush up against her—I will bring your kingdom to the ground, and I will put your race into the ground so far they will not even be a memory.”

  Yes, things were definitely about to go from bad to worse. The Dragon was back to being over protective. “Nivaradros,” she said quietly. “Please.”

  “No. Not this time, Zimliya. I am not giving ground on this matter. They have no right—no right at all—to decide that now that you are immortal your past deeds have no merit. How many times have you saved his kingdom?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Zimliya, how many times?”

  She glared at him, but still declined to comment. She wasn’t going to give him this one. If he wanted to know, someone else would have to tell him. Which, naturally, someone did. “Fifteen times if you include all the times she saved his daughter,” Crilyne remarked dryly. “Four times if you don’t.” His eyes moved to hers. “Z, you are being foolish.”

  “I am the human in the room.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I thought so.”

  The Mithane brought a small level of comfort; he changed the conversation. The moment of relief, howeve
r, was very, very short lived. “Zimliya, why haven’t you ever healed yourself prior to this?” he demanded sharply as his eyes met hers coldly. “Certainly, you could have. Was it a game of power for you all along? Did you enjoy tempting death so often?” Apparently, their earlier conversation on this subject was no longer enough.

  She hesitated, but her silence and her frightened stance were enough of an answer. The Mithane stood, but before he could make it to her side Nivaradros was between them. The Dragon’s scales were out in full, and they were ready for an attack if the Alantaion did not tread with caution. Drawing himself up to his very impressive full height, Nivaradros growled.

  “Nivaradros, she has been endangering herself unnecessarily!” the Mithane snapped angrily. He made no move to push past the very angry Dragon, but he didn’t back off either.

  “Think!” the Dragon snarled. “You’re the one who told me she couldn’t handle healings because of her past. They were a black mark—why would she have wanted to carry that talent?!” When his words didn’t have the desired effect, Nivaradros exhaled with anger. “I claim Zimliya fully!” he declared in a dangerously powerful tone. “Will you challenge me?”

  Everyone in the room froze except for the Dragon. Crilyne and the Mithane both glanced at her in open astonishment and apprehension over how she would respond. She, however, couldn’t manage a response. Nivaradros had just claimed her. Fully. In a tent with three immortals and one Shade as witnesses. It was hard to grasp, harder to understand. Dragons did not claim another often, as relationships between them rarely developed enough to make such a statement required. She didn’t know the full extent of the meaning within the Dragon culture, but his statement did cause an immediate response from the others present. When his words settled into the silence, the Mithane moved first; he took his seat once more. Nivaradros exhaled smoke and moved to stand behind her. Placing his hands possessively on her shoulders, his grip tightened briefly before relaxing.

  “Do any of you challenge that?” he asked in a low tone. A tone that promised the person who said yes would die immediately—and painfully.

  “Are you going to bother asking Zimliya?” the Mithane wanted to know in a cold fury. His eyes were black, but they were on hers, and Z didn’t know how to respond to the shock she had just been handed.

  “He’s still breathing,” the Islierre remarked with a smug smile appearing as he regarded her with speculation.

  The Thinyen was silent, but his eyes locked on hers intently for a moment before their color softened a hair and moved to focus on the Dragon who was the very apparent threat in the room. She didn’t doubt he would at some point try to kill her—Dragon protection or no—but she wasn’t concerned. She could handle him. She had, after all, made the choice not to kill him before. She would simply make a different choice now.

  “Zimliya?” Nivaradros’s tone was softer, but still threatening.

  Pressure she wasn’t ready to shoulder was being placed on her. Closing her eyes, she inhaled slowly, but exhaled in a huff. “Bit of a thing to spring on a girl, Nivaradros,” she managed to force out.

  “He was going to attack you.”

  “And I am now so weak I cannot handle my own enemies?”

  “No.” The Dragon sounded frustrated. “But this makes it easier.”

  “For you maybe. Don’t you think I have had enough thrown at me lately?”

  “So that’s a no?”

  “No, but it’s not a yes either.” She covered her face with her hands. “You remember the part about me and relationships?”

  “What relationships?”

  “Precisely.” She shuddered, lowered her hands, and opened her eyes.

  “If the four of you would be agreeable, I would like to speak with Zimliya alone,” Nivaradros said suddenly, shifting tracks on her.

  The four exchanged glances for a moment, but nodded slowly. The Thinyen was the first out of the tent. The Islierre watched him go with a scowl. “I will keep him from blurting out things, Zimliya,” he promised her. “And I will speak with my son on your newest arrangement, provided he arrives.” He was gone before she could reply, leaving just the Mithane and the Shade.

  The Mithane still wasn’t over his earlier anger, but he also wasn’t willing to argue with the Dragon. “Don’t break her, Nivaradros,” he whispered before walking out of the tent without a glance back.

  Crilyne, however, said nothing and made no movement. “Nivaradros,” he murmured at last. “That was unwise.”

  “Agreed, but what else could I have offered him to get him to stand down without a fight?” Nivaradros wanted to know as he stepped around from behind her and took a seat that gave him a view of her face. “Z?” he called.

  She shuddered again. “You’re making Midestol look comforting,” she told him softly, making a weak attempt at humor. She stared at the tabletop for a minute, and then glanced at the Shade. “Crilyne?”

  “If you want my opinion?”

  “I do,” she told him honestly.

  “He won’t intentionally harm you.”

  Well, even she knew that. “But?”

  “This is your choice. If you decide to go to war with Nivaradros I will stand beside you. I personally believe this is a positive thing—for this brief period of time—but I also think he offered this a bit soon for you to accept, and you have to admit you’ve been easily shaken since your return. Did you lose all of your edge while you were away?”

  That stung more than she wanted to admit. “Possibly,” she admitted. “Or I lost it when I was forced to destroy an entire kingdom.”

  He flinched. “Point,” he agreed. He crossed his arms and glanced at Nivaradros. “What do you want from her?” It was clear Nivaradros’s latest move did not have his approval, but as Nivaradros had been keeping her safe, it was also clear Crilyne was willing to take that into consideration.

  “Nothing, not yet,” the Dragon spoke in a quiet tone. “But I am making my intentions—some of them—known. I have been listening quite close to all the scheming. Zimliya’s future has been on the minds of everyone. She is—has always been—mine. And now that is less likely to be challenged.”

  Crilyne’s stance was still mostly relaxed, but Z knew this was an act; she could feel his unease. She was also fairly certain he was not as okay with this as he implied he was, and that meant she would need to watch him in the future. “And if she doesn’t desire that?”

  Nivaradros snorted softly. “I am not going to lock her up in a dungeon,” the Dragon scoffed. “She is entitled to follow her own path.” Z heard the discomfort in Nivaradros’s tone, though, and knew if her path differed from his he would have a hard time accepting it.

  Crilyne had similar thoughts. “Nivaradros, you are frightening her,” he said softly.

  The Dragon’s gaze moved to her, and she saw a flicker of possible concern in the depths of the green. “Indeed,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Shade, will you grant us some privacy?”

  The Shade hesitated for the shortest of moments. “Tread with care,” he warned the Dragon as he glanced at her again. Z managed a slightly weak smile in response, but Crilyne’s frown told her he didn’t buy it. “Remember, you didn’t go through all this to kill her now.”

  “She may harm me, but I will not harm her.”

  “There is more than one definition of the word, Nivaradros. I mean it in all cases.” Crilyne inclined his head to the Dragon and slipped from the tent. Leaving her alone with Nivaradros.

  Who was now possibly irritated at her. She closed her eyes again and jumped when Nivaradros’s human seeming hand touched her cheek. Opening her eyes in a cold fury, she stared at him, and waited for him to speak first. His eyes were faintly amused.

  “I warded the tent. Feel free to yell, attack me, throw things, or whatever else you have been holding in since I dropped this on you.”

  “Just go away.” As far as replies went it wasn’t her greatest, and she spoke it so flatly it sounded like she was making a comm
ent about the weather and was bored with it.

  “Keeping things bottled up tends to end badly for humans; apparently you’re not made for it.” It was an equally weak attempt at humor, but Z could hear the Dragon’s temper taking a backseat this time, and she sighed when she realized hers would not do the same.

  “You could have warned me.”

  “I should have, but I thought it would make things worse. I hadn’t planned to make that move now, but it was the only surefire way I knew to get the Mithane and the Thinyen to reconsider their actions.” The hand stayed where it was, and Z was tempted to slap it away. “But I was entirely serious a few minutes ago, Zimliya. Start yelling or whatever it is you want to do. I can handle it, and you’re too quiet.” He finally moved his hand and then he removed himself from her side. Standing in the center of the room he began to taunt her, trying to get her temper to flare out.

  She had planned to say nothing at all, but Nivaradros didn’t stop there. Instead he continued to pester her until she snapped. She had no idea what she yelled at him. Throughout it all he did nothing more than watch her in silence, and that just egged her on further. She was furious at him. At him, at Midestol, at the Shade, at the rest of the immortals, at Tenia, and at herself. She hated being immortal, and every single thing she hadn’t put into words—or hadn’t put into words honestly—now boiled over and found a target to be launched at: the Dragon.

  He did nothing. Said nothing. And not even his features gave his thoughts away. He just watched her and let her yell for the better part of two hours in perfect silence. Only when she fell silent because she was out of new things to say and refused to repeat herself did he clear his throat softly.

  “Better?” he wanted to know.

  She cursed him out for another half an hour before falling silent again. This time the Dragon didn’t attempt to push her temper when she had finished, and Z slowly inhaled and exhaled until the lingering threads of anger dissipated. Only when she was certain her anger was gone did she face the Dragon directly.

  “Is it your turn now?” she asked tiredly.