Page 172 of Scorching the Alien Empire
There’s a displeasing sneer on his lips.
He is so grumpy now. Like super-extra mad.
Something deep inside me twists. A pang of sadness, of loss, churns in my gut, but I shove it down, just like I forced down that disgusting Sock-Chair meat that he made me eat at ourwedding celebration. This isn’t my Dracoth, not anymore. I’m just mourning the man he was, not the one he is.
“That reminds me,” I say, pinching my nose as I glance toward the vomit-inducing pile of actual vomit behind the throne. “Someone made a real mess here. Can one of you clean this up, please?”
I force out a laugh, expecting the bone-through-the-noses lining the walls to jump into action. But before I can see if they do, Dracoth is sneaking off again.
“Beep, beep. Red Taxi.” I clear my throat, arms raised aloft.
He halts mid-step, his shoulders sagging slightly as if I just asked him to fetch me the entire Prada collection. He whirls around, dark-green, lizard-skin cloak swaying behind him, his expression dark.
“Do your divine legs fail you?”
No. I want you to hold me. Control me. Own me.
The thought crashes into my mind out of nowhere, nearly making me choke. Where the hell did that come from?Traitor thoughts!
I force a cough, regaining my composure. “Act... actually, I want you to show me how to fly this ship,” I stammer, recovering beautifully. “So that one day, I can take my rightful place on the throne. Alone.”
Dracoth says nothing.
In typical Mr. Frowny Face fashion, he simply moves, as fast and deliberate as ever. Before I can react, his massive hand scoops under me, lifting me effortlessly into the crook of his arm.
The ship blurs around us, a rush of motion and heat. My robes press against the gem-infused black armor, the warmth of his body radiating through the metal, seeping into me like a lovely red-hot radiator.
“Mmm... so cozy,” I purr, remembering just how perfect this is. How safe I feel in his grasp. Maybe this isenough? Just being with snugly Dracoth, toasty, secure, just relaxing.
No.That’s hobo talk!
I must resist. I must remain strong, just as Divine Mother and Father taught me.
I steady the sleeping Todd while Dracoth bounds into the towering throne like a leopard leaping onto a branch.
Before us, the blue holographic terminals flicker, their runes glowing in complex patterns, their pulsing dots marking ships in motion. I squint, trying to make sense of it. The best I can manage are those children’s books Elder Ignixis showed me.
Dracoth’s leans forward, his bulk nearly squishing me like the last drop of toothpaste from the tube. His fingers are a blur of motion over holographic controls. Klendathian symbols flash too quickly for me to process—twenty? Engage? Damage?
Ugh. So many. So fast.This is going to take ages to figure out.
At least the viewport is clear now. Just the dazzling, swirling rainbow hues of confetti-speed, casting shimmering reflections over the polished black marble.
No murder-bots, no space dust, and best of all, no giant asteroids hurtling toward my face.
I’m 99 percent sure Dracoth intentionally raced into those earlier just to terrify me. Yep,typical meathead-jock behavior. Show off his big warship, try to impress his date like it’s his dad’s Ferrari.
“So...” I begin, sucking on my teeth, trying to think of something clever to ask. I squint at the screen. “These blinky beeps?” I gesture to the larger pulsing dots trailing our ship. “Are those the murder-bots or the asteroids?”
That was a good question. Right?
I peer up at him expectantly.
“Voidbanes,” he mutters. More grunt than word.
“Ah, Void-pains,” I sigh, dramatically placing a hand over my heart. “How could Iforget?” I giggle, wiggling my hips a touch, but I’m met only with more silence.
He’s Ignoring me.
