“You’refriendswith them?”
“No, mate means…” The skinny one sounds exasperated. “I mean…I’m Lydia, this is Rosalie. There are three other humanshere too. We’ve all been here for some time, and honestly, we’re not being made to say or do anything.”
I take my eyes away from Dalox to look back at the two women, the skinny one identifying herself as Lydia, meaning the other is Rosalie.
To be fair, neither looks like they’re being coerced into anything.
“Gillian,” I grumble. “My name is Gillian Swalwell. And how come I can understand aliens now?”
“That’ll be the nano translators.” Rosalie says tapping a spot behind her ear, in the same place I was jabbed by the machine. “Why don’t you come meet the others, Gillian? Perhaps we can convince you this isn’t as bad as it seems.”
“No,” Dalox growls, deep and dark. “She does not leave.”
“I’ll choose where I go and what I do.” I turn to him. “Not you.”
He cocks his head on one side, his burning eyes studying me once again with great curiosity, almost as if he’s managing to see right through the blanket I’m just about wearing.
“You are correct,” he says, and I smile smugly. “But also, this planet, these ships, and these warriors all belong to me. If you wish to go anywhere, you will require my permission.”
I risk a glance at the other two women. Lydia shrugs.
“Is this true?”
“That it all belongs to Dalox? Sort of. This part is a sort of neutral bit,” Rosalie says. “But we’re close to Dalox’s sector, and that belongs to him.”
“And the planet.”
Lydia and Rosalie look at each other. “Dalox is the fleet admiral,” Rosalie says to Lydia. “I guess any parts which are not the other warlords’ sectors do belong to him.”
“Wait…” I swing my gaze between the two women. “Did you saywarlord?”
“Sarkarnii warlord,” Dalox growls. He honest to goodness growls the words. “I am the warlords’ warlord, and my word is law.”
Lydia shrugs again, and Rosalie toes the floor while rubbing her hand over her stomach.
“We’ve generally found it’s easier to run with it than against it,” Rosalie says. “And they’re nice when you get to know them.”
“You mean don’t argue?”
“Generally it’s easier if you don’t,” Lydia says. “Mostly because…” Her eyes widen, and both she and Rosalie flatten themselves against the wall behind them.
“Because what?”
“Because they turn into dragons…and that usually wins the argument.”
“Turn into dragons? Don’t be silly.” I shake my head and look over my shoulder.
Above me rises a huge scaled being, smoke curling from great nostrils, lips curled back from a vast set of teeth, wings unfurling and tail snaking down the passage back the way I came.
A massive set of claws clacks against the metal floor next to me. Curved, sharp, and as dark as obsidian.
“Holy shit, it’s a dragon,” I whisper.
“Lord Dalox of Vorostor,” the dragon intones. “And you belong to me. If the other humans wish to visit, they can come to us.”
Before I can do or say anything, I’m scooped up into the very same claws and lifting up from the ground in slow, easy strokes. Dalox rises up into the still air of this enormous place, and I have no option but to go with him.
GILLIAN
