Page 5 of Captured By the Dragon Warlord
“I have access to the Sarkarnii databases. I know what they know,” it says. “My name is Cestapal.”
Cestapal hops over me and grabs my hands, working away with its dextrous paws until the bonds loosen and my hands spring free. I rub at my aching, buzzing wrists and gaze around me.
“So I’m in…”
“Lord Dexx’s quarters, yes,” Cestapal says.
I’m on my feet, and then I’m not, face planting in a particularly ungraceful way as my legs decide they don’t want support me after all this time bound together.
My legs have died, along with my dignity.
“Take it easy, Scarlett. Lord Dexx isn’t one for comfort or the niceties of life. He prefers claws to words. And leaving you tied up like this is his style.”
“Lord Dexx is an arsehole,” I retort, massaging my calves until some feeling comes back into them and I attempt to stand again.
“He is anarseholeyou’re going to have to get used to. You belong to him now.”
“The fuck I do!” I crawl up out of the dip in the floor.
Oh boy, Cestapal wasn’t exaggerating when it said Dexx didn’t go in for the niceties.
There is absolutely nothing else in this entire room, not a scrap of furniture save for a large throne-like chair situated in pride of place. Otherwise there’s no indication he actually lives here at all, other than the jumble of blankets behind me in the pit which are covered in a spicy, pleasant scent. If they weren’t there, I’d have said this place was uninhabited.
I make for the door.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Cestapal calls out.
“Why?” I fire over my shoulder, ready to slam my hand on the exit button. “I could go where I liked on Darax’s ship.”
“Because if Lord Dexx finds you’ve been anywhere near any of the other warriors on his ship, he’ll have them all executed.”
“What?” I stop my hand mid strike. “He wouldn’t do that!”
“You want to find out?”
I debate for probably too long. There’s no way I’m going to be the reason some unhinged dragon guy uses to hurt others.
“Fine.” I spin away from the door, my legs failing to catch up with me as I wobble to one side. “So, whatamI supposed to do?”
Cestapal shrugs. “I don’t know. My species doesn’t mate.”
“Okay, what?”
“We females leave eggs, and they are fertilized by a male when the time is right.”
I hold up a hand, palm flat, at the Paralnyi. “Say no more.”
Cestapal opens her mouth.
“No, really, I don’t want to know. Just don’t go leaving any eggs near me, thank you very much,” I exhort her.
“Oh, I’m long past egg laying age.” Cestapal bustles out of the dip in the middle of the floor. “Now I clean up after Sarkarnii males.” She huffs.
“You’re a slave?” I gasp.
“Of course not!” Cestapal rounds on me, her little beady eyes blazing. “Whatever the warlords are, they would never do anything like that. It is completely beneath them. The Paralnyi arenotslaves to anyone.”
“But you said…” My words trail off because I feel terrible for insulting Cestapal, even if I don’t feel bad about insulting the Sarkarnii.
