by Anna Carven
It wouldn’t make sense that her strange alien captor would want to poison her.
There was a utensil on the side; a long, elegant two-pronged fork made of a shiny metal that looked like a cross between copper and gold. Esania stared at it for a moment, blinking. She shook her head as the surreal nature of her surroundings—the ornate bed, the soaring ceilings, the pristine polished floors—hit her like a punch in the gut. And this small detail, this perfectly formed instrument… After living in the forest for weeks, it was so strange to be holding something so finely crafted.
Wherever she was, she wasn’t in Vradhu territory anymore. This was a sophisticated, highly advanced civilization.
Drakhin.
And now she was eating mysterious pink flesh with a Drakhin fork. At least it didn’t smell bad.
Her stomach rumbled again, and her mouth began to water. Without a second thought, Esania picked up a piece of the strange meat with her fork and ate.
Hmm…
Cool. Firm. Slightly sweet, yet fishy.
Not unpleasant, though.
And definitely raw.
Slowly, her energy returned. She finished her food, drank down the jug of water, and got up off the bed, walking barefoot across the cool stone floor. Really, it was a pleasant space, bright and airy and just the right temperature, reminding her of the temperature-controlled garden-spaces of the Serakhine, where the artificial sun had provided them with warmth at a constant twenty-four degrees Celsius all year round.
She wanted to look outside, to get a sense of her surroundings, but really, those windows were too damn high. What kind of person made a room with windows one couldn’t see out of?
Esania’s blood ran cold as she realized what this deceptively pleasant room really was—a prison.
She ran her palm along the wall, feeling its rough-yet-smooth surface, feeling for any cracks or weaknesses or defects, until she came to a small irregularity; a part of the wall that shifted slightly beneath her fingers.
She pushed against it, and white dust fell to the floor.
What is this?
She pushed again, and bits of stone flaked away, revealing a faint outline. It looked like a part of the wall was loose, and perhaps she could just pry it away like a puzzle piece, revealing whatever was out there.
Esania almost broke into a run as she returned to the bed and retrieved the copper-gold fork. She inserted its thin prongs into a crack above the defect and pulled.
One, two, three. Three tugs and a chunk of wall the size of her fist fell away, revealing…
Another chunk.
Painstakingly, she removed this too, then another one, inserting her fork into the narrow space and jimmying the thing until the chunks slid toward her. At least there was enough space between the solid wall and the pieces, as if someone had designed them to be removed this way.
It was slow, repetitive work, but Esania was driven by desperation and the Primean obsessiveness that kicked in every time she started a task.
She wouldn’t rest until she was finished.
By the time she reached the last piece, she was breathless and sweating, her body reminding her that she wasn’t yet fully recovered.
Imagine if the Drakhin walked in and saw her now; clutching a metal fork, her face and arms covered in white dust, wall-rocks scattered around her feet.
Exhausted.
Again.
She didn’t care. She had to know what was on the other side.
A small cavity had opened up in the wall now, just large and wide enough to admit her head.
What is this thing?
Why have something like this in the seamless wall, and why go to such lengths to conceal it? It was almost as if someone had been slowly carving out sections of the wall with a small implement… perhaps they’d been trying to escape.
She shuddered.
Esania took a deep breath and removed the final piece, a flat stone the size of her fist.
Bright sunlight shot through the wall, nearly blinding her. It was followed by a gust of cool, crisp breeze. She blinked the dust from her eyes and peered outside.
And froze.
The first thing she saw was the brilliant blue sky of Khira, stretching out into eternity. She stared out into the distance and saw the hazy blue outline of a mountain range. A vast canopy of trees stretched out alongside it, shades of red and orange and brown and green coalescing to form a brilliant patchwork of color.
Large bodies of water were scattered amongst the trees, shimmering in the bright sunlight so that they appeared almost silver. Esania angled her head, trying to look directly downwards, but it was impossible. The opening was too small.
But she could see the shimmering body of water that surrounded the tower. A massive lake surrounded her, stretching all the way to the foot of the mountain range.
Spectacular.
A prison with a spectacular view. If the lake surrounded this tower on all sides, then there was no way she could escape.
As the wind whipped at the ends of her braids, a terrible realization struck her. Judging from how far into the distance she could see, she was very, very high up indeed.
“Tu kyi naka?” A sharp voice jolted her out of her observations, and she yanked her head out of the hole, spinning around. The blue servant stood in the center of the room, eyes narrowed, arms folded in front of him—well, at least she thought it was a he—in a distinctly disapproving manner.
Esania tightened her grip around the fork. “I was just taking a look,” she said slowly, knowing she was caught in the act and there was nothing she could do about it. She shrugged. What was the big scary Drakhin going to do if he found out? Punish her?
There was no escaping from this tower. Not through the hole in the wall, anyway. That was a certain route to death.
A suicide route…
Unless one had wings.
To her surprise, the Naaga just muttered something under his breath and scurried across the room, pushing her out of the way. He gathered up the wall-pieces and put them back in perfect order, as if he’d done this a hundred times before.
With a sigh, he retrieved something from inside his white tunic—a tubelike metal device—and sucked up the dust until not a single speck was left on the glistening surface. His movements were fast and efficient, and the whole mess was cleaned up in just a few seconds.
The Naaga pointed to the other side of the room. A clear-walled tub filled to the brim with water had materialized out of nowhere. Fresh, crisply folded garments were arranged on the bed.
“Pardu,” he said, the meaning obvious.
Bathe.
They exchanged a look. The Naaga tapped his foot. There was an air of mild exasperation about him, even though his elegant features conveyed very little emotion.
“Don’t worry, I get it.” Esania turned away from the wall, brushing the white dust off her arms. That earned her a sharp look from the Naaga.
Oops.
He’d just cleaned the floor. She made a gesture of apology with her hand. “You’re not going to stay here while I have a bath, are you?”
The Naaga dropped to his knees and cleaned up the rest of her mess.
“Let me guess. The mighty Drakhin wants me cleaned up and dressed to his liking before he’s willing to come in here again?”
No answer. Of course, Esania wasn’t expecting one, but speaking her mind helped her to feel as if she still retained some semblance of control.
So why did she feel like she was the sacrificial virgin all of a sudden?
The Naaga stood. Esania waved him away. Go.
He walked straight past her without any acknowledgment whatsoever, disappearing through the little door on the other side of the room.
She didn’t know whether to feel offended or relieved. Briefly, she contemplated not bathing at all just to spite the infuriating Drakhin, but the water looked so inviting, and she hadn’t had a proper bath since…
Well, in longer than she could remembe
r.
If she was going to be the servant, energy source, whatever, then at least she would be a clean one.
Chapter Eleven
Three days.
Esania counted the number of times light and darkness had graced the windows overhead as she lay in her bed, wearing the soft white dress the Naaga had provided her with.
Three days passed and still there was no sign of the Drakhin. The Naaga servant—she’d since learned that he was called Rau—came and went, leaving food and water, snapping terse one-word commands. Berries, salty leaves, raw meat, nuts. Not unpleasant, but not the tastiest fare either. At least she wasn’t starving anymore, and none of it had killed her… yet.
Occasionally, Rau would point something out to her, then say the word in his language, as if he were expecting her to learn these things.
He wanted her to learn his language.
So she was here for the long run, then.
Once a day, the clear bathtub would mysteriously appear, only to disappear after she was finished bathing, and always when she wasn’t looking.
How does he do that?
She’d long since given up trying to figure it out. Rau was very good at his job. The Naaga was the consummate attendant. Efficient, unobtrusive, quiet. Her girls could learn a thing or two from him, only they weren’t her girls anymore. Technically, the humans she’d rescued from the Fiveways were now all freewomen.
Did any of them actually miss her now that she was gone? Esania hadn’t been the warmest of bosses, but she had saved their lives. Surely that counted for something, and hopefully, the Vradhu were searching for her. Ares-with-wings seemed to be her only hope of rescue, but he was injured, possibly dead.
And what could he do against a pale, winged monster who wielded raw energy from his hands?
What could she do?
Esania slid off the bed and padded across the room, heading for the small door in the wall. Three days of rest and nourishment had done wonders, and she almost felt back to her normal self again. The bone-crushing weariness was gone, and there was no way she was going to become lightheaded or black out again.
The way she’d been with the Drakhin last time… it was almost embarrassing.
She pressed her palm against the black door as she reached it, wondering what was on the other side. Both this one and the massive double doors were locked; she knew this because she’d inspected them countless times.
Three days, and she was growing restless, wondering what was going to happen next.
Perhaps she should ambush Rau when he came through that little door and make a run for it…
What a stupid idea. Besides, she didn’t mind the blue guy. He’d given her everything she needed and hadn’t hurt her in the slightest.
She couldn’t imagine bashing him in the face or knocking him out. Primeans of her station had no need for violence.
Voom. The door opened suddenly, and she stepped back, letting Rau pass.
The Naaga glared at her, bidding her to follow. “Nug,” he said. There was something in his arms; a garment of some sort.
He seemed to be in a hurry.
He seemed tense.
Something was about to happen, and she guessed it had everything to do with the Drakhin.
“He’s coming to feed, isn’t he?” She eyed the garment in Rau’s hands with suspicion. “And I’m supposed to wear that and get down on my knees and give him exactly what he expects.”
Just the thought of being on tap for this energy sucking monster was enough to make her nauseated. Angry, too, that she couldn’t do anything about it.
How utterly demeaning.
Rau thrust the garment in her face. It was a jacket of some sort, made of shimmering golden fabric that was similar in color of the Drakhin’s hair.
“No thanks.” Esania tossed it on the bed. “It’s too warm for that.” Now that she’d recovered, it was time to push back a little, to refuse the status quo.
To her surprise, Rau didn’t force her to do anything. He just gave her a cryptic look and slipped away, as soundless and unobtrusive as ever, ignoring her completely as he disappeared through his little side door.
It swung closed with a certain sense of finality, leaving her alone in silence to await her fate.
If the all-powerful Drakhin wanted to take her life-force, she had no way of stopping him. Beyond simple gestures, she had no way of communicating with him.
And there was no escape from this high tower in the sky.
No, this wasn’t a battle she was going to win by force or daring escapades. If she was going to survive, she was going to have to learn the Drakhin’s weaknesses…
And manipulate them.
Stars, how was she even supposed to begin to do that?
Chapter Twelve
“She is ready for you, my Lord.”
“You gave her something warm to wear?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Take your leave, Rau.” Imril pressed his hand against the door lever, his trembling fingers betraying the seething hunger within.
For three darklights, he’d rested in the lower halls of Kunlo’s decaying fortress, seeking even the tiniest shred of information about the new world outside, staying as far away from the female as possible.
Who ruled now? That fool Nykithus? The thought made him seethe inside.
What had happened to the tens of thousands of Naaga slaves when their masters suddenly died? More importantly, what had happened to the Vradhu mates?
He’d found nothing, just bare walls and vegetation and scattered debris and the half-insane echoes inside his own head.
Still too injured to risk flying, he’d curled up in the crumbling North spire in a light-filled room without windows or walls. Its curving archways were covered in twisting green vines, and a family of small winged pettichen had taken up residence in one of the alcoves.
Twitatwitawhoo. Occasionally, the small black creatures would irritate him with their shrill, high-pitched nattering, but not enough for him to lob an idle blast of power in their direction.
Why should he disturb them when they’d been here first?
Crossing his legs, folding his wings, he’d stared out at the world below, watching as light and shadow fell across the wild forest, keeping perfectly still as small furred creatures and insects skittered across the moss covered floor. The morning mists came and went, coating his body in a fine sheen of moisture, but he was oblivious to it all, submerged deep in the crumbling labyrinth of his memories.
Oh, he was far too old to remember everything in sequence. Memories came and went, some fully formed, some half decayed.
His wounds healed slowly, and several times he had to scrape the dead flesh out of his side to get rid of the Vradhu poison.
Just when he thought he could endure the hunger no longer, Rau had come and informed him the female was back to her full strength.
That was the reason he was here, opening the door, striding into her light-filled chambers, ready to fill himself with the intoxicating nectar from this soft, fragile creature.
Mine.
His prize.
Already, he could see her, smell her, feel her.
She sat on end of the bed with her bare feet planted firmly on the floor, dressed in a simple white garment that covered her arms up to her elbows and ended at her knees—the kind that might be worn by a Vradhu female. Rau had sourced it from somewhere deep within Kunlo’s storehouses, and Imril found it distinctly pleasing. It was a fraction too large for her, accentuating her slenderness and willowy limbs, its neckline opening to reveal the graceful bones beneath her neck, and just a glimpse of her pert cleavage.
For an alien, she was not… unpleasant to look at.
The female sat with her head bowed, not making eye contact even though she was well aware of his presence.
There was a certain insolence written into her pose, as if she were saying: I will acknowledge you on my terms.
A soft groan escaped Imril’s lips
as he walked into the radius of her glorious golden vir. It was as rich and plentiful as he’d ever seen it, radiating off her body like mist. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a creature with vir as powerful as hers.
She was all he needed.
He took a deep breath and inhaled pure energy.
Perfect.
Like a drug.
The sting of his wounds lessened, and his footsteps became more fluid. Power began to fill his vir-channels.
And that was only a taste of what was to come.
Suddenly, he didn’t care that his entire world had crumbled and turned into ashes and dust, that he had only himself to blame for the ruin of his empire.
He had her.
The Source.
And everything would be fine.
He came to a stop in front of her and she looked up, her startling green eyes locking onto his.
Imril froze.
Pure green, the color of a deep forest lake or a new quinze leaf at the turn of the season, before Mael had brought down the shadowring and killed that entire species of spectacular plants.
Pure, crystalline green; eyes that were definitely not of this world.
But then again, neither was he.
She held him with her gaze, demanding his complete, undivided attention. How does she do that?
And then she smiled and placed a hand on her chest. “Esania,” she said.
Esania. Her name.
Oh? Now this creature wanted him to know her name? This wasn’t how a terrified servant would behave. Just like words, names held power.
He stared down at her but didn’t offer his own name in return. Her smile never wavered, and yet it wasn’t a friendly smile. Its softness hid hard edges; more of a challenge than a greeting.
Imril wasn’t used to such looks from anyone, even other Drakhin.
His eyes narrowed.
Know your place, creature.
Still wearing the gloves he’d found in Kunlo’s war room, he reached out and gently stroked the side of her face, a veiled threat if there ever was one.
This time, he wasn’t going to touch her until he was ready; until he was sure he could control his feeding.