The entire way back up to her room, all Anzi could think about was what Kai would do if he appeared this very second. She didn’t know why. She was still jarred by what he had done to her last night, and her skin crawled at the memory of being trapped under the strength of his presence. She didn’t know if she would have died if he’d held on any longer, but it had certainly felt that way. Even now, her heartbeat quickened, and her pulse throbbed in her neck with remembered fear. Maybe he hadn’t meant to, but the damage was done. She couldn’t even fall asleep again lest she accidentally transport herself to him and end up imprisoned once more.
So why was she still thinking about him now? If she could drive a hammer into her skull to knock out her wandering thoughts, she would. She’d promised herself she would stay away from him no matter what, regardless of the suspicion she had that he hadn’t been in his right mind when it had happened. If anythi
Was-Serqet was her name. This time, it wasn’t a whisper of a suggestion from an unknowable, outside force. The name came from inside her, welling up like a spring breaking through the earth for the first time to bubble out in a stream flowing downhill. It was there, it was alive, it had power. Snakebite-quick. Strength. Resilience. This was Was-Serqet. From her bed, Anzi watched as Netra raised her spines and crept around the new hatchling on the floor. Serqet followed her progress, turning in place with slow shuffles as her wide claws clicked against the wood. Dark red, compact, covered in segmented armor from behind the frill all the way down her flanks and rump. An also-segmented tail that unmistakably resembled a scorpion’s, right down to the coiled curl and what could only be the nub of a growing stinger at its tip. It twitched and hovered over her back, staying pointed at Netra as the latter circled the younger dragon with a gro
He shouldn’t be here. Not so soon. Oscar had told her only this past evening that the chieftain was still a day’s flight out. Then again, he had also admitted to the general ignorance surrounding the average flight speed of a dragon, so perhaps she should have been prepared well ahead of time. Because that was Anzi’s most pressing problem. Unreadiness. Unreadiness for the shadow of terror washing through her and the lightning-hot thrill that ran over the entirety of her body like a wave of static at the same time. Unreadiness for both the simmering, fast-rising anger that made her clench her fists, and the sheer, inexplicable relief of seeing him standing in front of her unharmed all at once. She wasn’t ready at all. She had thought she would have more time. “Anzi,” he said. “I’m sorry.” Under the light of the flickering torches along the hallway outside, his dark, shaggy hair seemed to glow with a yellow-orange hal
How to explain what she knew? How to convince him her information was good? How to make him see that bringing the dragons here had been a terrible idea no matter what his reasons? Anzi was still scrambling to put together proper responses for when he inevitably demanded answers and explanations. She didn’t want to give everything away, a conditioned cautiousness that she saw no reason to do away with, but in order to persuade him to go along with her wild plans, Kai needed at least some justification to cling to. But he said nothing. The silence stretched on as she waited for him to explode in either anger, outrage, or fear, but all he did was stare at her with a—what was that, a secretive expression? Slowly, her hackles rose as her gaze turned from stern to suspicious, and it wasn’t long before she pieced together what he wasn’t saying. “You know already,” she said. “You knew before I told you. You know that Tet’s going to do somethi
When Anzi at last convinced Letti to leave before someone noticed she was missing, the harem girl shot the chieftain a sharp glare before stepping out through the doorway. It was an expression Anzi had never seen before, like she was a breath away from running right past her and clawing Kai in the face. Not even when she had been slapped by Noemi in the street—twice—had she looked so vindictive. One final encouraging push and shutting of the door later, Anzi and Kai were alone again. That is, save for Netra, who was now sulking in the corner, and Serqet, who was flipped over onto her armored back on the floor close by, tiny legs wheeling as she struggled to right herself. “Netra! Do that to her again, and I will swing you around by your tail! Understand?” Anzi hurried over to pick the hatchling up while Netra hissed at her from the wall. “Don’t talk back to me!” The dragonet lay her head down, still glaring.
Netra didn’t like crowds. She barely tolerated company. So with the presence of the four strange men in the room, it was a miracle she hadn’t yet leaped out at them and left her claws in their bare chests. Anzi kept her eyes glued to the dragonet whose spines were already raised and bristling with undisguised hostility. And since when had her teeth become so jagged? There had been a few strewn about here and there over the past several weeks, but Anzi hadn’t noticed the new ones growing in. They looked too big for her maw and certainly big enough to sink and crush bone, too. She gave her a baleful glare, a wordless warning to behave, and was answered with a rebellious, wider display of those fierce dragon teeth. Was this what it was like to take care of a child? Constant disobedience and attitude? She would never have any of her own, she swore it. Then again, it was too late. Netra was all but her child anyway. “I really have to order you to leave,” she
Oh, hell. Anzi stood utterly still as the dragon drew close, ridged upper lip curling in the beginning of a snarl. It was dark with only the standing torches lining the stone walkway to lend their weak light, but the blood red hue of the massive dragon was no less intimidating for it. Wild dragon, indeed. She could sense savagery, strength, hardened brutality. A truly fearsome creature, born and raised according to its birthright, not like the ones of the Empire. She remained motionless even when the dragon lowered his head and came so close the small ridged horn curving up from the tip of its snout almost brushed her face. Hot breaths puffed out in clouds of steam that carried away on the stiff winter breeze. No frill to speak of, but even without it, the dragon’s head was terrifically large as it glared down at her, orange eyes flashing. “You’re not afraid.” She didn’t turn to look at Kai. “I can move before he go
Sparring was agonizing thanks to her hobbling leg and the occasional ripping spasms that made her grit her teeth against the crippling pain that flooded her from thigh to foot, but she wasn’t going to show weakness. Pierro’s growing smirk as the minutes slipped past was already making her want to murder him, and he was probably one stumble away from taunting her again, his favorite pastime. She had to stop caring so much, she told herself as she and Doufan circled each other in the dirt. Two of the standing torches had gone out by the training ground they had chosen, but it was still bright enough to see the man’s narrowed eyes and the angular, serpent-like face they peered out of. Doufan, the most mysterious of them all. Pierro was loud and brash; there could be no comparison. Aimee was quieter, but only in the haughtiest and most transparent of ways, and Anzi—Anzi had never been mysterious at all. Standoffish, yes, she could admit it now, but never my
If Anzi were in her right mind, she would have known better than to charge blindly in whatever direction was pulling her, especially when it brought her into the lower market district where she careened into angry citizens, none of whom recognized her or her mind-shattering urgency. Not that she cared. She shoved them all aside with more strength than she should have, sending people tumbling into vendor stalls and against building walls and occasionally, to the ground. None of it mattered. She ignored the furious shouting and cursing following her every hurried step, driving herself ever onward first this way, then that, then backward every time she became too terrified she had gone in the wrong direction to go any farther. Somewhere, she was sure he was dying. She had no idea how she knew or why it was she could feel him—or maybe she would if only her mind weren’t reeling and tearing apart, splintering under the weight of the pain that carved so much d