4. Haze
Haze
M y chest is torn open, my soul bleeding. But no one notices.
Except for the monster awaiting me in the shadows.
The small cave is quiet as we approach. The screeching of the shadowscelp halted a mile ago, likely because of what awaits us at our camp.
The rumbling that shudders through me should be fearsome, but it is my one and only comfort.
Five massive reptiles are curled up in a pile, purring like kittens, despite the fact that they are ferocious beasts any wise human would fear.
Mavros lifts his massive head first.
He does not speak, and yet I can feel his warmth reaching out to me as if he knows the pain I hide.
He is the largest of our five by nearly half, and one of the largest in the entire nest. Does he sense that I am near to breaking?
Can he feel the black blood oozing from the hole where my heart should be?
He slithers from the slumbering pile of scales and claws and stalks toward us.
My squad halts, allowing me to approach my drakai first.
The other warriors are not particularly fond of my beast.
I am not the largest or strongest warrior. I am not a leader by choice. And yet, my drakai is the strongest in active duty.
His black eyes peer into mine, and for a moment, I consider falling into him. Letting the emotions drowning me win. I imagine my knees buckling. I imagine the tears falling.
But I do none of those things. Instead, I lean my forehead against his.
I have always been numb. Always been less than the others. Half here, half elsewhere. My soul bleeds, but the Drak’yn people have never noticed. Or cared.
No one has ever noticed—except him, my draken companion.
Despite that, sometimes, I hate him too.
He’s part of this system that has stripped me of all freedom.
He’s the reason I’ve been spared the peace of death.
And yet, as much as I hate him, I adore him.
He is mine and I am his, and nothing else has ever made as much sense, not since the day I was dragged below ground and had my soul pierced to become one of these monsters.
Mavros purrs against our slight touch.
“Insanity,” Ronan mutters behind me.
The others have never understood my connection to my drakai. Neither do I, if I’m honest. Maybe it’s because I desperately need the companionship. The connection. I get it nowhere else. If it weren’t for him, I’d never resurface from the chaos in my mind.
The other draken don’t bother to rise as we enter. They are little more than fearsome horses. Mavros is special. He is why I am even allowed to leave the den in the first place.
The priestesses are desperate to convince me to “reach my potential,” otherwise I’d have been fed to the draken years ago.
Ivar throws his bag against the wall and angrily kicks a rock like a toddler.
He waits to tell me his thoughts until my drakai rejoins the others, leaving me to face the wrath of my commander. My eyes and shoulders droop, ready for my punishment.
Ivar’s head is dipped, watching me through his eyelashes. He steps closer, slowly, as if hoping to unnerve me. He has never succeeded. Once he is inches from me, he grabs my upper arm and throws my back against the stone wall of the cave. I grunt at the impact, but I give him no other satisfaction.
Numbness spreads over my chest. I don’t feel the pain he thinks he inflicts, with his forearm digging into my throat. I feel nothing, as usual.
Except… except that slight twinge of pain that echoes inside. That has nothing to do with him, though. It’s an old muscle, sore from disuse. An ache, pulsing just enough to remind me what I suffered today. And what my success will cost.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you did,” he hisses.
My lip tilts up into a small grin. I shouldn’t, I know. But I can’t help it. I am tired. I am sad. But there’s a flutter in my chest that reminds me that while all of those things are still true, I won today. And he can do nothing to change that.
She is free. She will never feel his touch or the darkness of the Drak’yn den.
Ivar wanted to chain her.
He failed.
There is loss there too. There is fear—where is she now? Did she survive the scelp? Why was she in the middle of the deadlands so close to the desert? Where will she go? What will she do now?
But I choose to hold on to victory, at least right now, while looking into the eye of the commander I despise.
I took her from him.
And I am glad.
He sees the smile and squeezes my windpipe tighter until my vision peppers black and Mavros lets out a low growl.
Ivar releases me, his lips still curled. I choke down air to my burning lungs but barely hold back a laugh.
I know he won’t touch me while Mavros is here. He may be stronger than me, but my draken is the strongest of them all.
He hates knowing one of his subordinates is stronger than him, at least with my drakai nearby. It makes him look weak in comparison. We both know he’ll get his revenge soon, though, and I will welcome it.
“There are two humans out there. I intend to find them.”
I curl a lip in disgust but say nothing.
“You don’t actually think they survived the shadowscelp?” Ronan asks.
“Why would they call a beast they cannot defeat?”
Because they prefer death to you , I think. But I keep my thoughts to myself.
“Even if they survived,” I say, “we won’t find them. They could have gone anywhere.”
“We cannot, but our Draken can sniff them out.”
I frown. “That is against direct orders.”
Ivar explodes, “Don’t talk to me about orders, Haze! You’re the one who let them go.” He stomps toward me, finger pointing, but then he stops. He seems to consider something new.
“Pack your things,” he tells me. His lips spread into a cruel grin. “You’re headed back to the den.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You’ll take Mavros and Mikael’s draken back to the den.”
“You can’t do that!”
But we both know he can. Unless I’m ready to challenge him here and now. If I do, Mavros will not defend me. It will be my fight, on my own merits. And I will lose.
I may as well wait to ensure my death is needed before I throw my life on the line.
“You’ll give our debrief. The priestess will be glad to see you taking a leadership role.” He winks.
My blood runs cold. “And you will…”
“Ronan, Maddox and I,” he says, “we’re going hunting.”