Chapter 2
Liora
Liora leaned casually against the bar, close enough that her shoulder nearly brushed his coiled form.
“Well,” she said lightly, her voice warm with teasing, “if you’re going to question my dramatic arrival, the least you can do is offer me a drink.”
Her gaze drifted meaningfully to the row of small glasses he’d somehow accumulated during their brief conversation. Several filled shots gleamed in the firelight, their liquid catching gold and amber reflections.
“You’ve collected quite the selection,” she added. “It would be rude not to share.”
He studied her for a long moment, clearly aware of the shift in tone, the deliberate lightness, the spark of mischief in her eyes. Something in his expression sharpened, interest replacing the earlier guarded curiosity.
“Ah,” he said softly, a hint of amusement returning. “A strategic retreat.”
“Call it self-preservation,” Liora replied easily.
A low chuckle rumbled from him. He slid one of the glasses toward her with slow, deliberate precision, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
“For your survival, then.”
Liora accepted the drink, their hands brushing briefly. The contact sent the faintest ripple through her senses. A whisper of heat, a flicker of memory at the edge of perception, but she kept her expression perfectly composed.
Control, always.
She lifted the glass in a small salute. “To questionable decisions.”
His eyes glinted. “My favorite kind.”
She downed the shot in one smooth motion, the liquid burning bright and sharp down her throat before settling into a pleasant warmth. A soft laugh escaped her as she set the empty glass back on the bar. “Better,” she said, satisfied.
He was already pouring another.
Liora watched the fluid grace of his movements, the confidence in every gesture, and felt a familiar thrill stir beneath her calm exterior. Yes, she could have some fun with this one. A harmless distraction, she told herself. A momentary escape.
She met his gaze again, letting the silence stretch just long enough to become charged. “Okay, hero of the hour, what’s your name?”
“Oh,” he said, sliding the second glass toward her, “you may call me whatever you like.”
Something about the answer made her laugh. Yes, she thought, warmth spreading through her chest as she accepted the drink. This could be very entertaining indeed.
He watched her finish the second shot, amusement lingering in his eyes. “Maldenis,” he said at last, as though granting her a small privilege. “And I find myself wondering what yours might be.” His gaze drifted over her with open curiosity. “We do not often receive humans in Solkaris.”
“I just moved here from the Upperworld,” Liora rolled the empty glass between her fingers, considering him. “My name is Liora.”
He repeated it slowly, tasting the syllables. “Liora.”
Something in the way he said it sent a faint, unexpected tingle through her.
“Vale Crossing must be a hell of a change,” Maldenis said, shifting closer like he already belonged in her space. “No one telling you what to be. No one keeping you in a box. You can do whatever you want.” His gaze dragged over her, slow and unapologetic. “Bet that’s fun.”
The implication was clear.
Liora arched a brow. “You can’t just give me drinks and expect me to fall for that line.”
The corner of his mouth tilted, confident and infuriatingly calm. “Didn’t say I expected anything,” he replied. “Just saying. You don’t look like someone who needs much convincing.”
She sighed, though the sound carried more amusement than annoyance.
Some things, apparently, were universal.
Basilisk, Drakkon, human—it didn’t matter.
Guys were guys. And if she were honest with herself, she didn’t entirely mind.
There was something entertaining about his boldness, something easy in the way he stepped into her space without hesitation, like he’d already decided she wouldn’t push him away.
Her gaze flickered to the powerful line of his shoulders, to the strength hinted beneath the dark fabric stretched across his chest.
Confidence. Strength. Just enough arrogance to make things interesting.
Fine. She would play. For the first time that evening, Liora allowed herself to simply exist in the moment.
“Liora.”
She turned as her brother approached the bar. “It looks like we have to wait for confirmation,” he said, glancing between her and Maldenis.
Maldenis gave a small, unbothered shrug. “Yes. Our mothers are not here.” His voice held quiet certainty. “They’ll be back soon.”
“Just our luck,” Elian quipped dryly. He dragged a hand through his hair, already turning away. “I need another drink.”
Without waiting for a response, he slipped back toward the main hall, disappearing into the glow and noise of the larger bar.
Liora opened her mouth. “We could just drink—”
She stopped herself. Her gaze shifted to Maldenis, who was watching her with open curiosity, his golden eyes glinting in the firelight. The private lounge suddenly felt warmer, quieter, and charged with possibility.
They could drink here. Or she could stay…with him. A slow smile touched her lips.
She turned fully toward him, resting her elbow lightly against the stone bar. “Looks like we have time to spare.”
Maldenis’s expression sharpened with interest. “I suspected you might see it that way.”
“So,” Liora said, tilting her head slightly, her voice carrying a playful challenge, “what else does one do in Solkaris while waiting for destiny to arrive?”
A low, amused sound rumbled in his chest. “That depends on how adventurous you are.”
She met his gaze without hesitation, curiosity and mischief sparking in her. Whatever heaviness had weighed on her earlier—prophecies, danger, divine blood—felt distant for now. She had time, and she intended to enjoy it.
Liora held his gaze, letting a slow, thoughtful look cross her face. “You know,” she began, her tone deliberately casual, “I’ve decided Solkaris is entirely too hot for me.”
Maldenis glanced sideways at her. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm.” She nodded solemnly. “I’m melting. Please tell me there’s a place where we could cool off?”
Inwardly, she added, and I’d finally get to see what you look like under that shirt. Her gaze drifted, briefly, innocently, across his chest again before returning to his face.
His smile widened slowly. “You’re very transparent, Liora from the Upperworld,” he murmured.
She gasped softly in mock offense. “I am not.”
His golden eyes gleamed. “You’re in luck,” he said, voice dropping slightly. “There’s a spot nearby. A spring. One of the few in our land.”
The way he said it made it sound less like a location and more like an invitation.
“Hidden,” he continued. “Cool. Private.”
Liora felt a flicker of anticipation spark through her, equal parts excitement and mischief.
“Well,” she replied lightly, lifting her chin, “lead the way.”
Maldenis’s expression held that same knowing curve as he turned, his serpentine form gliding smoothly ahead.
And as she followed, Liora couldn’t decide which she was more curious about: the spring he promised…or the basilisk leading her there.
They emerged through a side exit of the bar and out into the open night, where the warmth of Solkaris wrapped around them immediately, thick but softened by the late hour. The sky above stretched wide and endless, impossibly clear.
She slowed, tilting her face upward. “I love how you can see the stars so clearly here,” she said softly.
“No light pollution,” he followed her gaze. “We prefer our nights untouched.”
“It’s amazing,” she murmured.
The starlight was bright enough to guide their steps, casting a pale glow over the ancient ruins surrounding the restaurant district.
Broken columns and crumbling archways rose from the earth like the bones of some long-forgotten civilization.
Time had smoothed their edges, but magic still hummed faintly through the stone.
“You bring all your overheated guests this way?” she asked lightly.
“Only the interesting ones.”
“Oh? And I qualify?”
He glanced at her, red hair catching starlight like embers. “You qualified the moment you didn’t flinch.”
“From what?”
“From me.”
She smiled at that, stepping closer as they walked. “I don’t scare easily.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
Before them was a tall iron gate set between two thick stone pillars. The metal was old but sturdy, locked with a heavy chain.
Liora stopped. “Is this the part where you admit we’re turning back?”
Maldenis looked almost offended. “Trust me,” he said.
She barely had time to say “Yes—” before his arms slid around her.
The movement was swift and effortless. One moment, she was standing beside him; the next, she was lifted securely against his chest. She let out a surprised gasp as his powerful coils tightened beneath them, his serpentine lower body anchoring and rising in a smooth, controlled motion.
The gate proved no obstacle.
With fluid precision, he maneuvered upward, tail gripping stone and iron alike. His strength was undeniable as he carried them both over the barrier.
Liora clutched instinctively at his shoulders, heart racing, not with fear, but with exhilaration.
And then they were descending.
He landed silently on the other side, lowering her with deliberate care until her feet brushed the ground. Except he didn’t immediately let go. She found herself still in his arms, the ruins quieter here, the air cooler. The faint sound of flowing water reached her ears from somewhere beyond.
She looked up at him, breath slightly uneven, a bright smile breaking across her face. “Well,” she said, laughter lingering in her voice, “that was dramatic.”
“You did ask for adventure.”
“Wait, pretty sure I didn’t ask to be carried over anything.”
His mouth curved. “You did not object.”
She didn’t deny it.
For a moment, they simply stood there close, the night wrapped around them, stars shining overhead. The air felt different beyond the gate. More secluded. More intimate.