Page 28 of The Sacrifice

QUINTESSA

Despite our journey down several more halls and staircases, there is still no sign of Qora.

Drago strolls into the dining hall at the same time that Merikh does. However, the vampire leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he eyes the Dragon King. Kyan already sits at the table, and it’s clear he’s minding his own business.

“Left a little something in my bedroom, did you?” he grunts, jerking a thumb toward me. “It’ll take a full week to cleanse it of her stench.”

When I pause mid-step and lower my nose to sniff myself, Drago chuckles and gestures toward him. “Come, Tessie. Ignore, Merikh. He was born with a stake shoved up his ass.”

“As opposed to a limp-winged lizard,” retorts Merikh, furrowing his brow and coming off the wall to seat himself at one side. “She’s wearing my favorite leather jacket,” he practically spits out.

I shrug and trace a suggestive finger along the center seam. “You morons didn’t give me any clothes, so I got inventive.”

“You are welcome to use any of my clothes while we have some made for you,” interjects Kyan with a smile, and I notice how he quells the tension in the room. As if a fresh breeze has drifted in to cool tempers.

The table is a perfect square with four throne-like chairs of fused ash and bone. I wince at the sight of the bones when I consider my backside, which still burns from Drago’s hand and teeth earlier. He seems to register because he grasps the back of his chair and leers down at me, “I will have the servants fetch you a chair, so you may sit next to me, Tessie.”

I gulp and purse my lips while answering, “I’d rather stand.”

Every King breaks out in a deep chuckle, and my cheeks turn hotter than a furnace. I ball my clammy hands into fists and bite my tongue, though I don’t know why I should be embarrassed. In the Wastelands, there are far worse fates than becoming the mistress of the Dragon King who is also a god.

“Tessie, come here,” commands Drago, eyes centering on mine.

A tremor of hesitation ripples through me until he brandishes those eyes like fiery blades. Chewing on my lower lip, I advance toward him, my gait stiff and slow as it was on the way here. My body temperature seems to rise the closer I get to him. Belly fluttering and pulse rushing, I’m aware of the others’ eyes on me, especially the Fae King, Mayce, who tilts his head and narrows his eyes, observing me and Drago. His neck muscles are tight, the silvery blue veins gleaming through his pearlescent skin. With his long jerkin parted at mid-chest, Drago bears enough golden skin to show his dark curls of hair and a scattering of obsidian black scales tipped with that emerald sheen.

Once I arrive at the Dragon King’s side, he cradles my chin in his hand, raises my face to his. And once his eyes cross to mine, my breath catches in my chest. He promptly steals it by crushing his mouth to mine, thrusting his tongue inside to lick at the inner walls. Heat seeps into my blood. A throat clears nearby. As if triggered, Drago grips the sharp angles of my hips and promptly thuds into the chair...with me on his lap. I choke back a whimper from my buttocks chafing against the jerkin covering his thighs, but it’s far better than the bulbous bones of the chairs.

Servants stagger into the dining hall with trays of all kinds of food. My stomach rumbles, but I take a few moments to marvel at the servants. What I’ve always known of the Waste is that everyone, who was left here after the Veil, was created became monsters breeding monsters—all ruled by the monster gods. One servant’s left side of their body is similar to a fawn—complete with one hoof instead of a foot. Another wears a deer skull until I register the servant doesn’t simply wear it. The skull is fused onto their face. As if the bone has grown into the flesh. Now, I wonder if the ones in the village were not wearing masks. A servant, who sets a tray of a roasted boar’s head before Drago, so the spiced meat scent curls into my nose, twists his mouth into a smile. His teeth are long and pointed like a rat while dark fur scatters about his face. I lose track of their differences and features ranging from dogs to birds to reptiles and even fish.

“Are you in much pain?” Drago purrs against the side of my head after I shift uncomfortably.

I shiver from my hairs prickling and tell the truth. “Yes, Lord Drago. But—” I pause from the knowledge of the other King’s eyes on me. Kyan’s especially as the skin around them creases in concern. Mayce merely observes, detached but alert while Merikh continues to regard me with bloodthirsty disdain.

In the King’s arms, I feel smaller than ever, but the pain reminds me of last night—of how I took a monster god, a Dragon King. And survived. Whatever I am—mistress or lover or prized pet—I received him. He chose to fuck me. Nor has he thrown me out of the castle and into the corpse village, so he must want me again. At least for now. So, I squeeze my shoulders, smile sweetly, and finish, “—But there is no pleasure in life without pain. And since it’s the first time I’ve felt both, I would go to great pains again for either.”

Mayce drops his spoon. A giggle rises inside me, but I manage to hold it back while the King chuckles behind me. The sound reverberates into my spine, along with his warmth.

“I won’t delay you too long, sweet girl. But you will eat to your heart’s content first.”

“Thank you, Lord Drago. Merikh says you’re fattening me up for a slaughter,” I point out and tease, batting my eyes at the vampire. He glowers at me from across the table.

“Did he now?” croons the Dragon while carving some of the roasted boar. “While I don’t intend to slaughter you, little Tessie, rest assured, I will devour you at my leisure.”

“So, I trust I did not ruin your appetite?” I wonder with heat growing inside my core, prompting me to clench.

“No, but you’re ruining ours,” grumbles Merikh, tipping back a goblet of wine. His plate is empty otherwise, and I’m curious as to what or who he must feed upon.

“On the contrary...” Drago continues, unhindered by the other King, and lifts a fork bearing some of the succulent meat dripping with its warm juices. I lift my brows in surprise when he offers it to me. “I’d say you ignited it.”

Pride kindled, I thrust out my chest, however paltry, and open my mouth to accept the King’s meat. For once in my life, I eat my hearty fill. Before, leftovers or third helpings defined my life since the oldest child receives the largest portion according to Borderland customs. So, it’s the first time I don’t find myself hungry. This could end at any time, and I will enjoy every morsel, literal and metaphorical.

Countless masks upon the walls leer at me, prompting my curiosity. “Why all the masks?”

Mayce and Drago shake their heads with a chuckle while Kyan raises one brow as if it should be obvious. Merikh simply rolls his eyes and fills his goblet again. I study the masks, speculating, forming all sorts of theories. Does each skull belong to someone they once killed? A shiver chills my spine, and I remember how dangerous the Kings are. It won’t be long before Drago grows bored with me, so I can’t help but imagine where they would place my skull.

“Quintessa,” Mayce addresses me, and I swing my head to the Fae king, who levels with me, folding his hands on the table. My skin tingles from him citing my name—it sounds as delicate as white violets. “Will you share more about your gift and how it came to be? Such talents are ones blessed by the spirits.”

Glancing down at the tattoos on my palms to conceal the scars, I shift uncomfortably. The King’s muscles harden beneath me, and I feel small and weak as a wilted flower. But once I remember how I healed the Dragon, I nod to share, “Ironic that you used the word “blessed”. It’s a common sentiment that I am far more cursed.” I stiffen in Drago’s arms, but my insides overheat and soften when he brushes his mouth along the side of my neck and palms my thighs. “I was a twin, but we both died as my mother gave birth to us. But while my heartbeat returned, and I breathed life again, my twin did not. Everyone considered me bad fortune due to my twin’s death.” I don’t add the other part about how I became a half-ghost, about how I am monster-touched. If they learn I am not so different from them, Drago may just as well change his mind and throw me out of the castle.

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