25. Vael-Torin
VAEL-TORIN
The sulfur from the magma blasts up around our isolated columns, but all I can taste is the ash of my own history. My defenses have been breached, exposing the deepest shame of my military line to my mate, my Poppy. I brace myself.
She will judge me for this. I have no doubt. I will be found lacking, because I am. My hands fist at my sides, my wings tucked in tight like they can protect me.
"Now for the second half of our double feature!" Ken’s voice booms, a countdown indicator appearing over the roiling lava. "Let's see how well you know your partner."
The air above the magma ripples, dragging my senses into a holographic dining room that looks nothing like the places where we feast on my planet. These humans have strange ideas about comfort, I decide.
Poppy walks into the room. She looks younger, her wild hair tied back into a slick knot on her head.
Dozens of huge tomes are scattered around her.
Across from her is an older human male that bears a striking resemblance to her.
Her father, I presume, though there is nothing of Poppy’s joy in this human’s face.
"You're wasting your time, Poppy," the male scoffs, tossing a stack of her papers across the table with total disdain.
"You don't have the brains or backbone for law. You're too soft, and frankly, you won’t pass the bar. Cut your losses and find a desk job or a husband before you embarrass yourself.”
Poppy shrinks into herself, and fury rises in me on her behalf.
“I am smart enough,” she whispers.
“Only an idiot would have to say that out loud.” The older man shakes his head. “If you were smart enough, you wouldn’t have to declare it.”
The memory shifts subtly, the dining room slowly shrinking into a sparse apartment. Poppy stands in front of a mirror, wearing a green dress that molds tightly to gorgeous curves of her body.
My mouth goes dry, because gods above, my human is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Standing in the doorway is a human male with a thin-lipped smile.
Jealousy flares in my chest, and I bare my fangs reflexively.
"Are you sure about that dress, sweetie?" the male asks, his tone dripping with a soft calm that makes my tail instantly whip the stone in a predatory strike. "It’s beautiful on the hanger. It’s just... tight in certain areas. I think something looser might look better.”
Poppy swallows, her fingers smoothing the fabric over her thighs, thighs I want to bury myself in. "I thought it looked nice."
"It is really brave," he says, stepping closer and patting her cheek with condescending fondness. "For someone with your body, it's bold. I just don't want anything to ruin our night. Don't get defensive, Pops. You’ll be happier in something that isn’t so tight."
I will kill this idiot.
The scene twists a final time, shifting into a wood-paneled courtroom.
An adult Poppy stands behind a table, completely frantic.
Files scatter across the floor in a chaotic mess of paper.
She babbles to a judge who slams a wooden mallet onto his desk, shouting her down.
In the seats behind her, her client screams at Poppy, declaring that she’s ruined her children's lives forever.
The projection shatters, throwing us back into the blinding heat of the colosseum.
My breath comes in short, angry pants.
I look across the fiery lava at where Poppy’s crying softly on her column. Balancing on her broken shoe, her face pink with shame.
She is not fragile.
She is a warrior—same as me—who has been fighting a different kind of battle for years, and she did it without a single red scale to protect her.
It’s a good thing she has me now.