Page 42 of Scorching the Alien Empire
“He did!” Sarkoth barks out a sharp, sardonic laugh. “Voiding bastard always has it in for me.” His dark-brown eyes sweep over our party, assessing each of us in turn. “But now that you’re back, I can finally focus on what I’m actually good at.”
“Sleeping?” Jazreal quips without missing a beat, earning a booming laugh from his old comrade.
“Aye, sleeping with your mother!” Sarkoth retorts, delivering a hearty slap to Jazreal’s arm.
“Well, this riveting conversation is putting me to sleep,” Princesa interjects, feigning an exaggerated yawn. “And we’ve got a puppy to tame and a new home to explore.” She leans forward, her voice dipping into a low, dangerous tempo. “So, if we could move this along, that would be just... wonderful.”
Bold words.
Sarkoth’s brown eyes snap to my Princesa, his grin fading, replaced by a sternness as hard as Scarn’s jagged peaks. My muscles coil like arcweave-forged springs, ready to rip out his guts if he dares move against my Mortakin-Kis.
“Drexios ordered me to bring you to him,” Sarkoth announces finally, his voice devoid of its earlier warmth. Without waiting for acknowledgment, he turns sharply and strides down the corridor. “Follow me.”
The black marble hallway stretches before us, its polished surfaces reflecting our every step. Sarkoth leads with a measured pace, and Jazreal skips ahead to join him, their voices rising and falling in animated conversation, punctuated by sharp gestures.
“Can he be trusted?” Princesa’s voice slices through the tension, her narrowed gaze fixed on the pair ahead.
“I trust none of these warriors until Drexios submits,” I reply, my fist curling at the thought, the anticipation of conquest igniting in my veins.
“No, I mean Jazzy,” she clarifies, shifting in my arm as she sweeps a suspicious eye over the area. “He didn’t want to join you, remember? And now here he is, skipping down the aisle with lover-boy, leading us to a reception full of angry drunk in-laws.”
My Princesa grows sharper with each passing day, her words echoing my own concerns.
“A trap,” I growl, my molten gaze scanning the gleaming black walls with renewed suspicion.
“Oh, stop your clucking, the both of you,” Ignixis chimes in, his tone dismissive. “You look like nesting puffrios, gawking at the skies for arrohawks.” He titters before tilting his head downward, his tone low. “But it is you who are the arrohawks set among the prey. Never forget that.”
Two hard-faced Ravager Berserkers stride toward us from the far end of the corridor, their long hair flowing like battlestandards. Their boots thud against the cold metal floor with a rhythmic weight. As they pass, they greet Jazreal warmly with clasped arms and low laughter, but their sharp eyes cut to me and my companions, filled with unspoken suspicion.
“This isn’t going to be dangerous, is it?” Sandra asks, her soft voice trembling slightly as she peeks shyly at the passing warriors. “These guys are a lot more frightening than the men back in Scarn.”
“Bunch of grandads,” Princesa scoffs, tossing her golden hair back with defiance. Then her eyes flick to Ignixis. “Oh, no offense, Iggy.”
Ignixis only glares, his blackened, runic features twisting into a scowl. “Have no fear, pleasant one,” he mutters, turning to Sandra. “There will be no violence—assuming our young Dracoth here can suppress his childish urge to break and murder everything in his path.”
My eye twitches at his goading words.I should have broken his lying, manipulative jaw years ago.
Sandra frowns, twiddling her thumbs as her sapphire gaze settles on me. “Um, that’s not very reassuring, to be honest,” she murmurs, glancing away with a flicker of mischief.
Even Sandra mocks me now?Princesa has corrupted her innocence.
Indeed, the pair share a knowing giggle.
“Yes, well,” Ignixis coughs, attempting to clear his old gas-cloud throat. “Drexios believes you’ve come to petition for the role of his Second,” he rasps, letting the words hang in the air like a virus bomb.
“Hardly,” Princesa snorts. “We’re nobody’s stinky Second. Isn’t that right, my little second dropper?” she coos, stroking the pointless, clacking cyloillar as if it were aware of anything.
My glare snaps to Ignixis, my shadowed brows darkening. I suspected such treachery. This explains Drexios’s sudden willingness to meet.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Ignixis chides, flicking his frail hand at me as if I were a mere znat to swat aside. But I am not. My scowl intensifies.
“Will you strip the skin from my flesh and wear it like a cloak, or some such nonsense?” He lets out a long, weary sigh. “How tragic that genius is only appreciated after its light has faded. Such a cruel fate I bear.”
“Silence, you old gas-cloud,” I growl, tearing my gaze away from his smug face. The endless moaning is more insufferable than his treachery.
“So...” Sandra ventures hesitantly, her voice soft. “Thereisgoing to be fighting, then?” Her wide eyes dart nervously to the war trophies and bloodstained banners adorning the walls.
The fear in her sapphire eyes pierces me—a loathsome pang of unease twists in my chest. Pleasant little Sandra, who is unwittingly in harm’s way, without the strength to protect herself. It would be... wrong if something were to befall her.
