by Lili Zander
I start to grin. Silu would love this move. “I have a proposition for you,” I tell Arax. “How would you like to be my second-in-command?”
Epilogue
Bryce
There is a party, of course. There’s music, and there’s dancing. There are fireworks. Draekons show off their flying moves. It’s almost dawn by the time we get back to Cax’s place.
“What now?”
Hurux grins lazily. “I can think of a few things. Why don’t you start by taking off your clothes?”
Desire uncoils in my belly. “I didn’t mean right now. I meant, what happens tomorrow?”
Cax’s expression turns amused. “I resign, then the senators find out who I appointed as my second-in-command. They were hoping they could bully Korum or Babbuq. Arax is going to come as quite the shock.”
“They won’t object?”
He laughs out loud. “How can they? Arax is the Firstborn of Zoraht. Who could be better for the role? Who understands better how to navigate the High Empire?”
“Diabolical,” Hurux agrees. “Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else.” He turns to me. “Cax and I have been talking. I thought we could go traveling. See the universe. The nine moons of Jormi. The sky-waterfalls of Vaobos. The ice deserts of Benov. There’s an entire galaxy out there, waiting for us to explore it.”
His fingers stroke my arm. “I’d like to get to know you better. When half the universe isn’t trying to kill us. I want to know what excites you. What makes you happy. What makes you laugh.”
“Alien worlds?” I can’t believe that this is my life. I’m so excited, I start bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Just wandering around and seeing things? Like Doctor Who?”
Cax looks puzzled. “Who?”
I start to laugh. “Yes,” I say, hugging them both. “Yes, yes, yes. Let’s do that.”
Epilogue
Raiht’vi
We ride in silence to the Northern Outpost, Dariux and I.
This man used to be Surax’s assistant. He used to be a spy. He’s been hunting me for almost six months, and I don’t know why.
And now he’s leaving the prison planet with me.
My mind is awash in nerves. All my life, I’ve done everything my father has told me to do. I’ve kept his secrets, all of them, no matter how appalling and horrifying. I didn’t fight my betrothal. In every way, I’ve been a loyal daughter.
Not any more.
When I contemplate the extent of my betrayal, I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
Am I making a mistake allying with Tarish? The commander of the rebellion is not rumored to be a kind man. If I don’t give him what he wants, what will happen to me?
The humans have an expression. From the frying pan into the fire. Is that what I’m doing?
Dariux breaks the quiet. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“No. Should I?”
“Probably not. We only met once, and we were both children when it happened. You stopped Lenox from beating my father. When he died, you came to our home, and you gave my mother some money so we wouldn’t starve.”
I stare at him in confusion. “But you’re Midborn.”
“My mother didn’t live long. I became an orphan. A beneficiary of the Narm Proclamation.”
“I made a vow that day, Highborn,” he continues. “You tried to save my father’s life. When you gave us money, it kept us from starving to death that winter. If I could return the favor, I would.” He smiles at me, warm and friendly and open. “And here I am, and here you are.”
I don’t think anyone has ever smiled at me this way. “My friends call me Rai.”
The skimmer lurches to a stop. Dariux opens the door, jumps out, and holds his hand out to me. “Rai,” he says. “Let’s go change the universe.”
Thank you for reading Draekon Rogue!
Not ready to say goodbye to the prison planet? The adventure continues in Draekon Holiday. Click to keep reading!
Draekon Holiday
Draekon Holiday
Day Two-Hundred-Something on the Prison Planet and things are finally settling down.
Babies that won't sleep through the night? Check.
Pregnancy cravings? We've got those, too.
Fresh starts? Check. A new chapter in our lives? Check again.
And people are leaving.
Wait, what?
If this is our last chance to be together, it's time to celebrate. It's time for a Draekon Holiday.
Draekon Holiday is a short story set in the Dragons in Exile series. It does not stand alone, and should be read after Draekon Rogue.
1
Viola
Don’t think about throwing up. Don’t think about throwing up.
“Hey.” I walk up to Arax. He's standing on the balcony of our temporary apartment, looking out onto the city of Ashara. It’s dusk, and the towers are starting to light up. The parks are filled with people, enjoying the quiet of the evening. In the main square, there’s some kind of food market going on, and in normal times, I’d be dying to go down there and sample everything.
Unfortunately, these aren’t normal times. I'm in the second month of my pregnancy. I think. Everything makes me queasy. Harper had wanted to eat nothing but fries for the duration of her term, but the second I smell grease, I’m fighting off the urge to projectile vomit. I’m eating the blandest food I can find.
My entire body craves lettuce. I’ve become the woman who only wants to eat salad. Ugh. This baby owes me.
Arax’s face breaks out into a smile. He extends his arm to me, and I snuggle up against him. “How are you feeling, Viola?” he asks, kissing the top of my head.
Six months ago, I didn’t know this man at all. And now, I’m pregnant. Our relationship is taking place at warp speed, but I have no regrets. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.
Well, that’s not strictly true. I’ve spent most of today throwing up. Right now, I’m a ball of grouchiness.
“Forget me,” I tell him. “How are you doing?”
Four days ago, Arax found out that his brother Lenox, in a bid to become the High Emperor instead of his older brother, had deliberately activated the Draekon gene inside him.
Arax is the calmest person I know. For a few hours, he’d been monumentally angry. He could have been the Emperor of the Zorahn Empire, but instead of claiming his birthright, he’s been in exile for the last sixty years. For a few hours, he’d contemplated going to war.
But only for a few hours.
He claims that I made him see sense, but that’s giving me far more credit than I deserve. One of the things I like best about Arax is that he’s practical. The Zorahn Empire is rigid about bloodlines. Lowborns are treated like they have no value, and Nyx is Lowborn. Even if we won this unlikely war, I just couldn’t see a way for us to live happily ever after.
And, let’s be clear, I’m protective of my baby. The Draekon-human hybrid child growing in my belly will be something the Empire has never seen before. Had Arax reclaimed his throne, would our baby have been accepted by the Zorahn Empire?
Magic 8-Ball says: Don’t count on it.
Sometimes, it’s okay to retreat from a fight we can’t win. Sometimes, it’s better to focus, not on power, but on the things that truly matter. Family. Friends. Love. Peace.
But after our original discussion, I haven’t had a chance to check in with Arax. The last four days have been insane. The entire population of Ashara was evacuated, and then they returned to their homes. Cax offered my mate a job as his second-in-command, and Arax has spent most of his time learning the ropes.
“I’m fine,” he replies. “Cax formally announced his resignation today, but he’ll stick around as long as I need.” He shakes his head in amusement. “He says it’s for my benefit, but knowing Cax, he’s probably making sure I know what I’m doing.”
I don’t know Cax at all, but yeah, that sounds like him. Bryce had laughingly called him a control freak yesterday.
>
“You’re deflecting,” I point out. Arax’s brother betrayed him in the worst possible way. That’s gotta sting. If I were in Arax’s place, I’d be in my pajamas, eating pint after pint of Ben and Jerry’s. Arax being Arax, he bottles all of that inside. When you’re brought up to be High Emperor, the first thing you learn is to keep your emotions hidden. “You know I’m not asking about the job. How are you feeling?”
He pulls me closer to him. “I’m still angry,” he admits. “It hurts that my brother cared so little for me. I keep wondering what I did wrong. Did I gloat because I was the Firstborn? Was I arrogant?”
Oh for fuck’s sake. “Or you know, your brother is a homicidal psychopath.”
Yesterday, a couple of technicians had enhanced my brain, implanting Zor in my mind. Of course, language is more than a set of words. It’s shared concepts. The Zorahn are still an alien race. A lot of the words in my head make no sense. For example, there’s a Zor word for the sensation of burning in your lungs when you breathe in hot sand during a sandstorm, because evidently, that happens all the time on the Zorahn homeworld.
The same way, there must not be a Zor equivalent for homicidal psychopath, because Arax looks puzzled. “Someone who breaks the rules without any understanding of the harm he’s causing,” I explain. “Someone with no regard for other people.”
He grimaces. “You could say that about most of the Highborn. But never mind about that. Nyx tells me you were ill all day.”
Busted. Damn the new communicators that everyone has been given. It makes hiding things from Arax so much more difficult. “It’s nothing.”
“He said he had to drag you to the healers. That doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“I’d have told you, but you’d just worry. The healers aren’t perturbed. Kaida’s fine, so they know that humans can carry a hybrid baby to term.”
“We think Kaida’s fine,” he corrects me. “She’s only a few weeks old. It’s too soon to tell.”
I know. I’m trying not to think about all the ways things could go wrong. I can’t even imagine how afraid Harper must have been. “Stop freaking me out, please.”
“Sorry.” Arax puts a finger on my chin and tips my face up. He kisses me gently, the softest brush of his lips against mine. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Tears well in my eyes.
Am I actually crying?
Yes, it appears that I am.
Oh, good grief.
I’m getting increasingly hormonal. I can recognize all the signs. Harper was a crying mess just before she gave birth, and we mocked her mercilessly for it. Three seconds ago, I was perfectly fine, having a normal conversation with Arax. And now, I’m flat-out weeping about the possibility that something might go wrong with our baby, even though all the scans say otherwise.
Arax sees the tears roll down my cheeks, and his face softens. “Diya, everything will be fine,” he says gently, brushing the tears away with his thumb. “We have dozens of healers here. Scientists. Technology.”
“I know.” My voice is small. I wipe my face. “Sorry. I’m being irrational.”
“Stop apologizing.” The affection in his voice squeezes my heart.
Nyx chooses that moment to come out, a pale blue drink in his hand. “For you,” he says, fixing me with a stern look.
Ugh. I was hoping he’d have forgotten. The healers thought I needed more nourishment, and prescribed me this cocktail of nutrients. I had a glass this afternoon, and it tasted awful. Like toothpaste laced with garlic.
I’m supposed to drink the blue mush three times a day. Baby, you owe me big-time.
“Where were you?” I ask Nyx, partly to postpone the moment of reckoning, but also because I’m curious. I’d taken a nap after I came back from the hospital, and when I’d woken up, Nyx hadn’t been around. Which is good—I don’t want them hovering around me all the time. That would drive me nuts.
Nyx grins, a wicked light flashing in his eyes. “I walked around the parks. Eavesdropped on people. Listened to stray conversations.”
“You’re spying? Why?”
“Cax found the senator responsible for the lowering of the shields, but there was a technician working with him who is still at large. For all we know, there are other conspirators. I’m good at being unobtrusive. Nobody pays attention to me.”
I snort. “Nyx, I’ve seen the way the women here look at you. Trust me, they’re paying attention.”
He chuckles. “Flattery won’t get you out of drinking this.”
Busted again. I make a face and take the sludge from him, gulping it down as quickly as I can. It’s just as bad as I remember. No, worse.
“Why are you playing spy anyway? Isn’t that Zunix’s role?”
Zunix, one of Olivia’s mates, was in training to become the next Spymaster. Basically, the person responsible for all of the Zorahn Empire’s covert surveillance. Ashara should be a piece of cake for him.
Nyx raises an eyebrow. “Zunix? There’s no way he’s going to stick around.” Arax shakes his head frantically, and Nyx’s voice trails off.
“What do you mean, there’s no way he’s sticking around?” My voice rises, and I catch myself before I start shrieking. “Where’s he going?”
Nyx winces. “Viola,” he says soothingly. “Zunix isn’t stranded on the prison planet anymore. None of us are. And thanks to Dariux, Ashara is not a secret either. The Asharans have made clear that we can leave if we want. I’m happy to live in Ashara, but Zunix has always been ambitious.”
“And Olivia will go with him?” That’s a dumb question; of course she will.
Wow. I thought that now that Raiht’vi was off the prison planet, and the threat of war had lifted, that we’d finally all have some peace and quiet. But I was wrong. We’re not stuck here anymore. People are going to want to leave.
We haven’t had a Not-Really-Tuesday gathering for weeks. Not since Sofia left to look for Rorix and Ferix, setting up the chain of events that led to us discovering Ashara. Things have just been too tense. We’ve all been on edge.
But I feel disconnected from everyone. I didn’t even realize that Olivia was leaving. What about the others? I have no idea.
I might not be able to drink, but it’s time for another happy hour.
The wind changes. A whiff of something spicy hits my nostrils, and just like that, my stomach roils and heaves. I hurl blue sludge at Nyx’s feet.
Oh God. Kill me now.
2
Ryanna
There’s a knock on the door. I open it to find a hooded Makpi standing outside. “Greetings, Ryanna Dickson,” he says, his English perfect, each word clearly enunciated. At least, I think it’s a he. Do the Makpi have genders? I should ask someone.
We weren’t expecting visitors. “Umm, hi?”
“I am Gar. I work in the Resettlement Assistance Program.” He looks past me and nods politely to Thrax and Zorux, who are hovering behind me. “We are meeting this morning.”
“We are?”
“It was on your tablet.”
Oh, shit. They gave us tablets a couple of days ago, and I put mine in a corner and promptly forgot all about it. My cheeks heat, and I feel like a fool. “I’m sorry. I didn’t turn it on.”
“Would you prefer that I come back?”
Honestly, yes. Thrax and Zorux and I were planning on spending a lazy morning in bed. No food to preserve, no chores to do, no Zorahn army threatening to annihilate everyone. It’s the kind of thing that gets a girl in the mood.
Except I don’t feel right about sending Gar away. He has a job to do, and my sex life shouldn’t take priority. “No, of course not. It’s my fault. Come on in.”
He enters our apartment and takes a seat at the table. “We will need to be alone,” he says pointedly to my mates.
Zorux frowns. “Why?”
“That is the way it is done,” Gar responds calmly.
Zorux opens his mouth to say something, and Thrax nudges him. “We’ll head downstairs and grab
some of those flour balls that you like so much,” he says to me. “Meet us in the bathing pools when you’re done?”
Ooh, yes. When we’re not having sex, we’ve been exploring Ashara, and, wow. This city is amazing. The bathing pools remind me of a Turkish hammam. They are a series of interconnected rooms, each containing a pool set to a different temperature. In some of them, steam rises off the surface. Others are so cold that the attendant breaks the thin surface layer of ice before the patrons can step into the water.
Along with our tablets, we’d also been given access bracelets and some money. In the Draekon camp, there’s been no need for money; food was plentiful, and the Draekons offered shelter freely. Things are different here. This is a real, albeit small, city, and galaxy over, cities aren’t cheap.
Thrax used to be a pilot. Zorux was a farmer. They have some useful skills. Me? I was a cashier in a grocery store. I made minimum wage. What do I have to offer?
All of a sudden, old insecurities come back and threaten to overwhelm me.
Gar makes a sound of distress in his throat. “What is upsetting you, Ryanna Dickson? Why are your emotions so heightened?”
Someone—I can’t remember who—had mentioned that the Makpi are telepaths. I don’t think Gar can read my thoughts—otherwise, he’d know why I’m upset—but he can sense my insecurity, and it’s impacting him.
“I’m not qualified to do much of anything.”
Gar lets out a huge breath. “Is that all? That is expected. Humans are technologically primitive. Even the exiles will need retraining before they are productive members of our city. I am here to ascertain your interests and skills, Ryanna Dickson. Once we know what you would like to do, we will ensure that you are given the training you need.” He looks around. “This apartment is fine as a temporary solution, but there is not enough room for a mated triad. I will make a note to move you. Unless…”