I stare at it as it runs down my finger, warm and glittering. For some reason, the fact that he can be injured makes a strange heat spread through me.
Vyrathion frowns at me. Something about his expression makes me suddenly aware of how close I'm standing. Very close.
I take a careful step backward. “I think you’ll survive.”
The dragon clears his throat. "That was never in doubt. Now we shall leave."
I look at the dead warriors. “Yes, let’s get away from here.”
He looks the way the tribesmen ran. "Those morons are bound to bring friends."
That sobers me immediately. The chief's words come back to me:We only want the female.
"It was me they wanted."
"I heard that they said." Vyrathion starts walking.
For a while neither of us speaks. We’re out of the funnel and the killzone. The jungle closes around us again. Somewhere in the distance, a dinosaur roars.
I keep replaying the ambush in my head. They weren’t trying to kill Vyrathion. They wantedme. A woman. A resource. A prize, something to be owned. Just like the Borok tribe. Except these guys wouldn’t find it necessary to marry me before they’d… The thought makes my skin crawl.
I look at the dragon in front of me. "You could've left,” I call to him.
He turns. "What is itnow?"
"The chief offered to let you go."
Vyrathion snorts. "An absurd offer. I was winning."
"It would've solved several of your problems."
"It certainly would. I wouldn’t have to answer your endless questions, I wouldn’t be held back, I wouldn’t have someone witnessing my degradation from up close and wallowing in my pitiful state, gawping at my ichor in fascination. But it would've created a new one."
I arch my eyebrows. "Anewproblem?"
He glances at me. "I would've lost my servant. Was there anything else you wondered about? Why the clouds are white, for instance? Why the ocean is blue? Why water is wet and fire is hot?”
He kept calling me a servant. He made it sound ridiculous and inconvenient. Yet when given the chance to walk away, he didn’t.
“No,” I reply. “I think that was–”
Something small emerges from a patch of ferns. The misshapen Plood, the little one. One eye sits slightly higher than the other. One leg is shorter, giving him a lopsided waddle. He carries something in both hands. The little alien walks directly toward me.
Vyrathion groans. "Not this again."
The Plood ignores him completely. He reaches me and raises his hands. A collection of bright yellow leaves rests in his palms.
I smile despite myself as I accept the leaves. "These are very nice."
The little creature blinks with his huge eyes.
"Thank you.”
Vyrathion folds his arms. "I am standing right here."
The little alien doesn't even look at him.
I bite my lip.
