A Lair So Primal by Zoey Ellis

7

The next day, Elora paced in her room, wondering what she was going to say to the other servants.

She had no idea how they would take what happened in the hall or how it would affect her burgeoning relationship with them.

Marahl hadn’t visited this morning for her to ask.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed her nerves and embarrassment aside, knowing she couldn’t stay in her quarters forever. She went to the candle-making room to see Sarai, but she wasn’t there.

There was no wax to melt, the cauldron hadn’t been used, and the molds were sitting on their shelves.

Confused, Elora went to the kitchens.

“She is on a new schedule,” explained Boe. “Once her task had been filled with the candles, she’d be rotated onto another job somewhere else.”

“So it’s not because of me?” Elora asked.

Boe peered at her. “Why would it be because of you?”

“How do I find her?” Elora asked, avoiding his question.

“I’m not sure,” Boe said. “She would have been told this morning where to go, but there isn’t a way to find out where everyone is. Only the stewards know.”

“Oh,” Elora said, dismay sweeping through her chest. It never occurred to her how she would get in touch with Sarai if she was rescheduled; Elora had no idea where her quarters were.

As she walked down the corridors, wondering where she could find Sarai, she came across Askel, who was sweeping a corridor. An uncomfortable sense of dread filled her, embarrassed by what he must think of her after seeing her with their lord. But when he looked up at her, he grinned. “That had to be one of the most fun lunches I’ve had here in all my forty years of being here.”

Elora laughed nervously. “You’re not angry, or… disappointed?”

“Why would I be angry?”

“You all seemed very worried when the lord walked in,” Elora explained. “I thought Pelles was going to have a heart attack.”

“Shit himself, more like.” Askel laughed. “Everyone wants to please our lord,” he said, reassuringly. “But we all finished our work. There was nothing we were doing that was against any rule, or against any guidance of our duties here. If we manage to finish our tasks, we can spend our time however we wish.” He inclined his head to her. “And you allowed us to do that yesterday.”

Elora still held herself tense. “I’m glad,” she admitted. “But what about… after? I wasn’t sure how everyone would react to—”

“It was very special having our lord in the hall with us yesterday.” Askel gave her a look. “I must admit I never thought I’d ever witness that kind of coupling.”

Heat burned Elora’s face. “You stayed and watched?” she whispered, horrified. By the Seven! She’d never thought she’d ever be on display while having sex. Plenty of public sex in Nyro’s lair but she never planned to put herself in that situation, even though she had to recognize it was her that instigated it yesterday. “I thought everyone left.”

“Oh, we did,” Askel assured her. “Once we realized what was going to happen we left straight away, but it happened so quickly. No one knew you were one of his kon’ayas.” He gave her a look. “That is a valid role, you know.”

Elora shook her head. “I don’t have the role yet, but it seems that is what it will be.”

“You should meet his other kon’aya if we can find her,” Askel said after a moment.

“I would like to,” Elora said eagerly. “Is she nice?”

“She is friendly, but she is not like you,” he said looking over Elora. “She looks very different.”

Elora’s hand went to her hair. “In what way?”

“She’s dark-haired and from the South. But she is difficult to get hold of.”

As they talked, Askel continued sweeping and Elora noticed his limp. “What happened,” she said pointing to his knee. “You weren’t limping yesterday.”

“It was the quakes,” Askel said. “I banged up my knee when I fell.”

“They are really dangerous,” Elora said, annoyed. “I don’t know why we don’t find a way to stop them.”

Askel looked at her strangely. “It’s just not possible.”

“I think part of the reason why you all work so hard is because of the damage the quakes cause,” she said bluntly. “If they weren’t happening, you’d be able to get your work done quicker and easier.”

Askel shrugged. “For some of us, maybe.”

“Let me do that for you,” Elora said, holding her hand out for the broom. “You can’t work like that. You should go and see the healer.”

Askel stared at her for a moment. “You want to take on my duties?”

“If you trust me to do them well,” Elora said. “I assume it is just sweeping?”

Askel nodded. “It is.” He explained the layout of the corridors in this part of the lair and how to sweep to make sure she got all the dirt and debris and disposed of it out of an opening higher up in the mountain. “Once you get there, and you brush it out, make sure that you leave the area immediately.” Askel said, an odd seriousness in his tone.

Elora nodded. “I don’t think I’ve been in that part of the lair before,” she murmured.

“Do not linger in the area. If I see Sarai, I’ll let her know you’re looking for her, but I will meet you in the hall for lunch, if the healer doesn’t tell me there is anything seriously wrong with my knee,” he muttered. He glanced at Elora. “I’m trusting that you will be able to do this well. It will be my responsibility if you don’t.”

Elora smiled. “I won’t let you down.”

Askel returned her smile and limped down the hall on the way to the healer.

Elora got to sweeping, making sure she was thorough in catching all the debris in the corridor and gathering it into a pile before starting another corridor. Since the corridors were wide, some of them long and windy, it took hours. She was sweaty by the time she’d finished, and the last corridor tilted in an upward angle, taking her farther up into the lair, possibly higher than Zendyor’s chambers.

When she finally saw the opening, she brushed out all the dirt, soot, and debris, watching as it fell down the side of the mountain.

Sighing with relief that she had finally finished, she headed back the way she came, but a horrid stench nearly overwhelmed her. It was a decaying, rotting odor that filled the corridors, almost as if there was an open graveyard somewhere in the lair. It wasn’t that unlikely considering the threats Zendyor made to her—but if that was the case…. She thought back to Askel’s warning. Was there something she should know about?

Elora stepped toward the corridor where the odor was strongest, her curiosity getting the better of her.

She came to an enormous, cavernous room with a large opening at one end and a pit carved into the ground in the center. It was disgusting inside. Large rotting chunks of charred meat were strewn around the floor, particularly in the center pit, as well as intermingled with shiny items also piled up around the space. She covered her nose, almost gagging at the potency of the decaying flesh. Insects and flies swarmed around the room. Elora gathered her strength and swallowed down her need to vomit, then stepped in carefully, wondering what this space was and why there was rotting meat left all over the floor. Of all the cleaning, washing, and careful upkeep of the lair, why had the servants left this space to fester?

When she couldn’t take any more, she escaped back into the corridor and made her way back as far as she could until the smell lessened, but she couldn’t leave the room like that.

Heading back down to her washroom, she grabbed two buckets, filled them with scrub brushes, soap and candles, and carried it all back up to the space, then retrieved a large bucket filled with hot, soapy water.

She gathered all the rotting flesh and bones into one bucket and the shiny items into another, then poured the hot water all over the floor bit by bit as she scrubbed.

At one point she retched, and although nothing came up, she ran out of the room to gulp some fresh air from the opening high in the mountain.

When she returned to the room, she could see its potential—it could be a lovely craft room or lounge for activities. It was bright and airy, and had a wonderfully wide, round opening that allowed breeze to come in. She worked for hours scrubbing the floors until the smell had considerably dulled.

Exhausted, Elora dropped down onto the wet floor, leaning against the wall as she rested. Once this room was cleaned up, it would be amazing, though she still couldn’t understand why this space had been so neglected. Maybe it was because it was located so high up the mountain, away from the most utilized parts of the lair.

Glancing out of the window, she was surprised to see how late in the day it was. Her stomach rumbled, but she wanted to finish cleaning.

Taking the bucket of dirty water to the opening, where she had swept the soot and debris off the edge of the mountain, she carefully poured the murky water over. After she emptied the bucket, she heaved the basket filled with the shiny items and placed it near the edge of the doorway. The items were an odd collection of things; swords, scraps of armor, buckles, a round decorative plate and more. Elora couldn’t understand the connection between them and why they were scattered around the room. It reminded her of the room she came across with the odd objects displayed.

The bucket with the metal items was too heavy for her to carry back down to the main part of the lair alone, so she left it just outside the door and went back in to collect the bucket with the rotting, moldy meat to make sure it was disposed of properly.

As she picked it up, she froze in horror at the sight that greeted her at the outer edge of the opening.

Barreling directly toward her in midair was the massive, beastly dragon. It looked like the same one she’d seen fly toward her after I’mya’s ordination—stunning inky black, spikes protruding down his back, shimmering with a golden sheen in the sunlight. He aimed directly at her and traveled at such speed that Elora barely had time to think. The dragon was already through the opening before she even dropped the bucket and turned to run, his clawed feet slamming against the edge causing the entire room to shake. It threw her off her feet but she scrambled up quickly, lurching forward to the doorway, as the dragon was halfway across the room. Staggering wildly, she charged forward and grabbed the edge of the doorway. She swung herself out into the corridor, pressing herself against the wall, her heart pounding in her chest so hard it hurt.

The entire area shook. The dragon moved around the space, screeches, clawing, and gruff noises coming from the room. Then, a piercing shriek rang out and Elora covered her ears. A burst of steam billowed out of the doorway. When it stopped, Elora inched to the edge and peeked into the room. The floor was no longer wet but the dragon turned around and around in space, clawing at the floor and sniffing the corners. He began to roar, the thunder of it whipping a cold terror through her chest. She pressed herself back against the outer wall, banging her foot into the bucket of items as she did.

She peered down, then realized what he might be missing.

Heaving the basket back into the doorway, she pushed it in as far as she could and the roaring stopped.

Some more rustling and scratches and the bucket dragging against the floor, then all she heard was heavy breathing.

Her heart pounding in her ears was louder than anything coming from the room, and when she peeked in again, the dragon sat in the middle of room, curled in the caved-in pit, his mouth working as he chewed on a piece of flesh with a bone protruding from his mouth.

Elora exhaled quietly and then ran back down the corridor the way she came. As she reached the servants area, she nearly knocked Sarai over.

“I’ve been looking for you every—eww.” Sarai wrinkled her nose. “You stink.”

Elora pointed back the way she came, breathless. “His dragon. His dragon’s den thing is up there!”

Sarai’s face dropped. “You went up there?” Her face a picture of disbelief. “You went up to the den, on your own?”

“I didn’t know it was a den,” Elora exclaimed. “I thought it was just a room that had been overlooked and needed cleaning.”

“You went in?” Sarai almost shrieked. “How did you survive it?”

“He wasn’t in there when I was there,” Elora said exasperatingly. “He came just after I finished cleaning it.”

Sarai’s disbelief was almost comical as her eyes widened to frightening proportions. She blinked at Elora, speechless for a moment. “Come with me.”

She led Elora down a few corridors before stepping inside a room and beckoning her to hurry in. It was her quarters—similar to Elora’s in many ways, but plainer.

“What were you doing at the den of our lord’s dan askha?” Sarai said in a hushed tone.

“I didn’t realize it was his den! I smelled something really horrible up there, so I went in to clean it. Just as I’d finished, the dragon came back. I barely escaped him.”

“Are you all right?” Sarai said, leading her to the bed to sit down.

Elora nodded, exhaling a halting breath. “I wasn’t hurt, just terrified.”

Sarai thought for a moment. “So you managed to clean the room?”

Elora nodded. “Yes, but I would never have gone in if I’d known it was the dragon’s den.”

“So it’s clean right now? There is no rotting flesh in there.” Sarai was looking at her strangely.

“No, well, except for the one he is eating.” She shook her head. “Why do you allow old meat to fester up there? It’s not healthy.”

Sarai raised her brows. “It’s been practically impossible for anyone to go in there to clean it,” she said. “He is an extremely volatile creature. If anyone enters his den, he seems to know, then returns immediately and burns the area until everything is incinerated. Lots of servants have been lost that way.”

Elora stared at her horrified. “So the flesh that I collected, some of that was….” She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, trying not to retch again.

“I can’t believe you were able to clean it.” Sarai dropped down onto her bed, astonishment on her face. “Can you hear how quiet he is? It’s completely still.”

Elora frowned. “You mean he was the one who was making the lair shake?”

“Yes. What did you think it was?”

Elora shrugged. “I thought it was a quake.”

“A quake that was solely localized to this mountain?” Sarai asked. She shook her head. “No. He makes a lot of noise up there when they first arrive back.”

Suddenly it dawned on Elora that the quakes always happened before she was summoned to see Zendyor—just after he arrived back to the lair with his dragon. She rolled her eyes at herself that she hadn’t put it together. “Why does he do it?” she asked Sarai. “Is he clumsy?”

“No, he’s very difficult—it’s his temperament. And he doesn’t like his den dirty.”

“He doesn’t like his den dirty, but he doesn’t want anyone in there to clean it?” Elora shook her head. “That makes no sense.”

“Dragons are very sensitive creatures, particularly dan askhas.”

“What’s the difference? Elora asked. “Sometimes people say dragons, sometimes they say dan askha. What is the difference between them.”

Sarai shifted on the bed so that one knee was bent as she faced Elora. “Well, you know what dragons are, right?”

Elora nodded. “Big, winged creatures that no longer exist apart from the ones bonded to the Vattoro clan.”

“Right. The Goddesses didn’t just create the dragorai. There were other beings they created that were human with bonded animal counterparts. The animal counterpart was always called the dan askha, regardless of the particular animal, and they had unique elements that went beyond what a normal animal of that kind would have. Of all the other beings that the Goddesses made, the dragorai were their most successful and their most beloved creation, and now they are the only ones left. So when we say dan askha, we mean the unique creature that is bonded to its alpha. But in the case of the dragorai, it is a dragon—similar in some ways to other dragons, but with very specific tendencies and needs that are highly superior.”

“All right,” Elora said. “I understand. With respect to the dragorai clan, the dan askha is a dragon, but in other species it was a different animal.”

“Yes,” Sarai said. “Our lord’s dan askha is extremely volatile. He has the same level of ferocity as our lord, except he has no reservation. He does not use words. He does not negotiate or compromise. He does not bow to anyone or anything. He is the fiercest creature that roams the Forbidden Mountains and the Twin Realms. The only ones who may be able to curb his fierceness are his dragon brothers and his human counterpart. There are times when he’ll just want to let out his aggression, and that’s what he’s doing to the mountain. Sometimes it’s not even within his den, it’s out in the range and he just attacks the mountains.”

Elora took a breath and exhaled slowly, unable to believe what she was hearing. “So you all have to live with him attacking the mountain simply because you happen to be with this dragorai. Can’t our lord do anything about it?”

“Honestly, it was worse before you came,” Sarai said. “And I think it’s the same with our lord. Sometimes he has raging outbursts and he needs to let the frustration out. It’s just a shame people get hurt.”

“Yes, like Askel.”

Sarai made a noise in the back of throat. “There have been more serious injuries. Like Boe.”

Elora gasped. “Boe?”

“You’ve seen his scars on his hands and arms?”

Elora shook her head, her heart sinking.

“He hides it well,” Sarai said. “But kitchens are already dangerous places without the shaking and trembling.”

Elora sighed, rubbing her brows with her finger and thumb before looking back up at Sarai. “How do you know all this?”

“Listening to the stewards and paying attention.” Sarai smiled. “People talk more freely around children.”

Yes, of course, Sarai had been here as a child. “I wonder what Marahl would say about this.”

“She’ll question you and then probably have someone attempt what you did. But she’ll ban you from going back up there.”

Elora frowned. “Why?”

“Because she won’t want you hurt.”

Elora bit her lip. “What if I’m able to clean it again safely?”

Sarai shot her a look. “It’s too dangerous.”

“There was rotting meat in his pit.” Elora rolled her eyes. “That’s why he was grumpy.” She then hesitated before asking a question. “Tell me the truth, do you all work so hard because of the trembling and shaking?”

Sarai was still for a moment. “It is better for us to be prepared and careful. The stewards have a plan in case anything happens to the mountain.”

“Marahl implied it was safe.”

“I’m sure it is, for now, but the dragorai are practically immortal. This mountain won’t last as long as it should. The stewards have to think long-term.”

Elora chewed her lip as she thought about cleaning up after the dan askha. She couldn’t see how she could not do it. The servants would be safer, and they wouldn’t have to work so hard every single day. On top of it, the dragon would be happier too.

“I’m not saying that you shouldn’t go back up there,” Sarai added after a moment. “I just wouldn’t ask anyone to meddle with a vicious dragorai-dragon just to stop the lair from shaking every so often.”

“Maybe if I figure out what I did, I can teach others.”

“True.” Sarai shot her a look. “And if you get burnt to a crisp, that’s also a lesson for others.”

Elora laughed, and Sarai couldn’t help but laugh with her.

“I’m starving.” Elora sighed. “I missed lunch with Askel. Oh, where were you moved to? I didn’t know where to find you.”

“I know. I was moved to fabrics.” Sarai smiled at her. “I hope you can come to help again soon. I was so excited after yesterday. It’d be good to see everyone again.”

Elora grinned back. “Let’s see if we can make it happen.”

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Elora, Sarai, Cyndra, Pelles, and Askel organized an arrangement wherein the servants could assist each other with their duties and then spend the free time with each other in the afternoon.

They tried to ensure that different servants had the opportunity to have free time so it wasn’t always the same people. But sometimes it was impossible to assist certain servants quickly enough because their duties required specific skills. Sarai had been keen to see her brother, but they couldn’t locate where he was in the lair.

As more of the staff became aware of the potential for some free time, more suggestions were made about how they could spend their afternoons. Unfortunately, Elora’s Dao board had been broken beyond repair when Zendyor threw it across the hall, which upset her because it had been a gift from I’mya.

One afternoon they listened to Felsie, an older woman from the South who enjoyed writing hopeful creative narratives about surviving the war. Her storytelling was riveting and thought-provoking, and they brought hope that the people they once knew were surviving.

Another afternoon Cyndra taught them how to sing. Elora was surprised how much she enjoyed it. It wasn’t something she had done in the other lair. It was so much fun and it lifted her mood so much to sing with the other members of staff. Another time, Sarai taught them how to sew, which was similar to embroidery, but more practical. Embroidery was for luxurious fashions, Sarai explained, whereas sewing constructed the actual shape of the clothing. She showed the rest of the staff how to make a simple tunic, and while it was plain it was a brand-new item of clothing.

Boe took over several of the afternoons to have everyone taste his new recipes, and he even gave a cooking class to any servant who wanted it.

Elora was amazed by all the skills the staff had among them, and she was delighted that they enjoyed learning from each other and spending time with each other.

The mood of the lair was rapidly changing. Over the course of a few months, Elora went to visit the dragon a few more times. He’d been mostly quiet after she last cleaned his den, but when the thudding started again, she raised her courage to go back up there.

He wasn’t in the room, so she darted in to get the basket of rotting flesh that she’d left in there the last time. She was surprised to see that the flesh had been burned to a gritty ash. She stood staring at the bucket, dumbfounded. Had the dragon burned the remaining meat purposefully? She pursed her lips. It was possible. She carried the basket down to the opening and tipped over the remains, then went back up to the den and started collecting the new fresh bones and lumps of meat that had been left near the side of his pit. Placing them in the basket, she deliberately left it in the room to see what he would do with it.

His bucket of shiny items sat in a new corner of his lair, and there were a few more items laying around it that had been dropped around it. This was clearly his treasure. She smiled to herself that the rumored characteristic turned out to be true. Elora put them inside the basket and then straightened, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the space. This time, she noticed the charred walls and took in the scent of smoke that she hadn’t noticed the first time when cleaning, overwhelmed by the rotting odor.

When she returned a week later, the meat in the bucket had been burned again, so Elora knew he’d done it intentionally. She’d read that somewhere that some creatures liked to bury or rid themselves of their food remains so they didn’t attract other predators. But a dragon had no natural predator. Maybe he didn’t like the meat rotting in his den? Though, he wasn’t a particularly neat creature.

Elora rolled her eyes at herself, chuckling at her own ridiculousness. She was no dragon expert to make guesses like that. She’d just have to pay attention to him and watch what he did.

After the first couple of months, she exited the den to see one of the stewards approaching. It was Walrick, the male steward who’d been in the room when she first met Zendyor. When he saw her, he stopped, shock on his face as he looked between the den entrance and her.

She opened her mouth to say something, but what could she say?

They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Walrick stepped past her to look into the den. He turned to her in amazement and started to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. He simply grinned at her and walked back the way he came.

While things were settling into a comfortable routine in most areas of the lair and with the servants, things weren’t so easy with Zendyor.

His schedule became even more erratic, and Elora found herself summoned at any given moment of the day to see him, sometimes disrupting plans she’d made with the other servants.

Marahl was always the one who came to collect her, and it surprised Elora that she mentioned nothing about the restructuring of the servants’ day. Elora had almost been certain Marahl would be annoyed about it, but she was always smiling when she came for Elora and even asked her about her day.

Elora tried to resist succumbing to the overwhelming feelings and sensations when she was with Zendyor but her resistance drained away. He was too potent, too irresistible, and too intoxicating for her as an omega. No matter how much she hated it, she always submitted to him willingly. He was addictive, and when he was away, as he sometimes was, she couldn’t sleep and she struggled to focus. It was unsettling to be so out of control, so different from herself. And it was only when she was with him.

Zendyor’s treatment of her remained intense and fiery—so much so that she couldn’t tell if he was angry with her or simply desperate for her. He continued to ask her questions, which she kept answering but he didn’t believe her.

He no longer arrived dripping in blood, which she took to mean that he wasn’t hunting, but something else was certainly on his mind. After their exhausting mating, he would pace in the room while she slept. She awoke a few times to see him standing by the open window deep in thought.

There was one evening she woke to a heavy feeling of aggression in the room. When she sat up, she could see by his tense stance—encased in a stormy, raucous aggression that tumbled around his whole body—that he was ready to strike out at any moment. On impulse she got up and carefully approached him.

He wore nothing but his night shorts, the moonlight shining on each bulge of his muscles and glinting off his enraged eyes. Jaw hardened, he didn’t turn to look at her as she approached, but she knew he was aware of her.

Elora positioned herself behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso, placing a palm on his chest. Slowly she pressed her lips in little kisses along his bare back, nuzzling her nose against his taut skin, before pressing her cheek against him and humming a simple melody.

“There was a young boy and girl in my faction,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “They were similar ages and their parents told them that they would be betrothed to each other. Normally, parents don’t tell the children so young, but their parents wanted them to develop a friendship over time, with the hopes it would develop into love. They became best friends very quickly and were always together whenever they could be.”

Zendyor’s chest expanded as he took a deep breath and then released it.

“The boy was really good at throwing rocks, he practiced every single day so he’d be adept enough to help protect the faction whenever they were scouting out new areas. The girl would sit with him and talk to him as he practiced, and soon he relied upon her in order to focus.”

The dragorai’s muscles relaxed, his tension draining slowly.

“One day raiders came to the land that my faction had claimed and they tried to take many of the women, including the little girl. As they were dragging them away, she screamed for her friend, her betrothed. But as she was being pulled farther away and with no one coming, she knew it would be the last time she would ever see her faction or her betrothed again. The raider who was dragging her had her by the hair, her feet kicking into the ground as she struggled against him. And then out of nowhere a rock smashed into his face. It hit so hard, blood splattered down on top of her. He fell, crashing to the ground and releasing her immediately. Similar rocks hit some of the other raiders and the women scrambled up and ran back to their faction. The boy hugged his betrothed, and they were both so relieved that they never left each other’s side again. They were by each other’s side when they died many years later.”

The dangerous air around Zendyor dissipated by the time she finished speaking. He turned and grabbed her hair, forcing her to look up at him. His beautiful blue eyes were filled with curiosity with a hint of something else she couldn’t identify. He pulled her to his chest and lowered his face to the crown of her head, exhaled another long breath. After that, he took her back to bed and was able to sleep.

A few nights later, she woke again to pressure in the room from his overwhelming aggression, his body tense, his fists clenched, and fury in his eyes.

And like the other night, she wrapped her arms around him, a palm on his chest and her cheek against his back, and started speaking again. “One of the babies in the faction was a favorite among all the adults. He was naturally very chubby, and that was attractive to the parents because it made him look healthy. A lot of the babies were born slightly underweight and it was a constant concern to make sure they were fed well.”

Zendyor’s chest expanded and the tension began to trickle away.

“But this baby was also a very happy baby. He had the most infectious laugh and the brightest smile.” Elora smiled just remembering him. “He kept so many in good spirits, and even the other children just wanted to be near him. There were a record number of pregnancies in the faction after his birth, and the faction was also more productive. His younger sister and brother were the same way. We started to call them the happy family.” She sighed. “I think they represented the secret to our faction.”

Zendyor turned around, grabbing her hair again and forcing her head up as he looked down on her. “Why are you telling me these stories?” he growled.

Elora smiled at him. “They’re nice, don’t you think?”

“Answer me,” he demanded. “Why?”

“To make you feel better,” she whispered. “You feel better, don’t you?”

His jaw clenched. “I am not one of the servants. This is not how you pay your debt.”

Elora lifted her hand to his face, tracing his check with her fingers. “I’m not trying to pay my debt. Isn’t it nicer to feel calm?”

Zendyor frowned. “I am a dragorai.”

Elora wasn’t sure how that answered her question.

“You refuse to answer my questions honestly and yet you offer up this pointless information,” he added.

Elora dropped her hand, lowering her face as her disappointment dragged down her mood. Her faction wasn’t pointless to her, but of course it was to him. She was here to pay a debt and earn her place in his lair, nothing more.

Zendyor pulled her close again, his face nuzzling her crown, then returned them to bed where he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Elora tried to find his kon’aya to ask her about Zendyor. If anyone knew about his moods, it would be the person who was most intimate with him. But she could not find her. None of the servants knew where she worked, and some had never seen her before, but when she finally asked Marahl, she said she’d pass on a message.

The next week when she woke in the night, she wondered if she should even bother going to Zendyor. But she could sense that the aggression in the air wasn’t just his anger—it was his frustration and turmoil, his chaos and discontent. She couldn’t stand to witness such suffering. So she got up.

Wrapping her arms around him, she fixed herself into the familiar position and closed her eyes, trying to breathe her calmness into him.

After a long moment, he took a deep breath. “Speak.”

Elora smiled against his chest and began another story about her faction.

Over the course of the next few months, she told him every happy memory and story she had about her large and extended family, and she enjoyed it. She felt like herself when she thought back to those times.

And while her ability to calm him did not make him any less curious about her, his behavior developed in ways she didn’t anticipate.

A new Dao board table appeared in her room. It was identical to the one that he’d broken, which was strange because I’mya had had it made for her.

“My other board was a gift,” she pointed out to Zendyor when he asked her about it while she was panting and on his knot. “It’ll never be the same as the one you broke.”

“It is almost exactly the same,” he said. “I’mya had it made for you again. She sends it with her ‘all her love.’”

Elora pulled away from him in shock. “She knows you broke it?”

“Yes.” His jaw hardened. “She was… not pleased.”

Elora couldn’t help but giggle. The idea that I’mya was annoyed with Zendyor lifted her spirits greatly. I’mya wasn’t the type to hold her tongue, even if Zendyor was the type to never do what anyone said.

Zendyor frowned at her, which only made her laugh harder.

“She has forbidden me from touching it.” Zendyor growled, a hint of indignation in his tone, which set her off in peals of laughter.

But that wasn’t the only surprise. One of the empty rooms in the lair had been made into a Dao room, with Dao tables and chairs set out for the staff to play each other and lounge seats for people to watch. It became one of the most popular rooms in the lair.

From what she could tell, the servants had been correct; Zendyor didn’t mind everyone enjoying themselves, as long as the work was done to perfection. That didn’t seem to be a problem, as the servants still took their jobs just as seriously as they had when she’d first arrived at the lair. The only difference was now that they were overlapping the labor, they had time to enjoy other leisurely activities.

With both him and his dragon calmer, the lair felt like a different place, and many servants noticed.

After she had shared all she remembered about her faction, she couldn’t help but wonder what he would allow her to talk about next, but when she took her position one evening and remained silent, he spoke.

“We have been at war for almost the whole time I have been alive,” he said, his voice gritty. “At first with each other, then with your kind, now with the king and queen.”

Elora squeezed him tighter.

“Another one of my brothers has found his mate.”

Elora gasped against his back and then grinned. “Congratulations. Which brother?”

“Tyomar. I am happy for him. But it raises the stakes now. There is more for us to lose.”

Elora frowned. “How?”

“We had to go to the South, and now the queen is likely to attack us.” He exhaled a breath. “If it was just me and brothers, it would be fine—enjoyable even. But my brothers’ mates….”

Something odd twisted in Elora’s chest. He cares more about I’mya than her. She shook the thought away as hard as she could. I’mya was part of his clan and therefore his priority. Elora wasn’t. “You will protect them,” Elora whispered. “I read stories about you—you always protect your own. Every time. The servants admire that about you.”

He was silent, but his aggression had faded. “My patience with you will eventually run out, Elora,” he said gravely. “The longer you choose to avoid telling me what I want to know, the more you are putting yourself at risk.”

Elora bit her lip, wondering how to convince him. She was starting to believe he didn’t want to be convinced—that he just liked accusing her and bedding her, and that he was never going to accept her explanations for anything. Maybe Nureen was right—he saw her as a treasure to hold on to, someone who had defied him in a way he didn’t understand, but that didn’t hold any real value other than a trophy to hoard and screech over, like his dragon had done.

He hadn’t hurt her since that first day, but maybe he just enjoyed having sex with her too much now. Once that ended, what would he do to her?

She remained silent and Zendyor said nothing more. He turned and scooped her up, then carried her to bed.

Elora tried to cast Zendyor’s threats to the back of her mind since she couldn’t control what was going to happen. A few days later, during one of the more energetic singing lessons, they got up and began to move, tapping their feet and clapping their hands, the joyful nature of the song spurring them on. A few of them had built some instruments which helped everyone stay in rhythm, and the new sounds added to the festive mood.

Elora threw herself into it, loving how singing made her feel. It was truly astonishing with all the activities in the other lair, no one had tried this one.

As she sang, people were singing along and Pelles slid by her, stepping to the rhythm of the song. Elora laughed, but Pelles took her hand and spun her around, and then drew her in and began to sway with her.

A thunderous roar echoed across the space. Everyone froze, startled, and Elora grabbed onto Pelles in shock.

Zendyor strode into the space, his face contorted in fury as he headed directly toward Elora and Pelles, who immediately stepped back, but Zendyor charged forward until he was between them, towering over the servant, a harsh growl rumbling from his throat.

Elora moved quickly. She didn’t want her friend harmed simply because they’d been having fun. She stepped behind Zendyor and wrapped her arms around him, placing her palm on his chest and pressing herself tight against him. They held still for a long moment, the silence and stillness almost deafening after the cheerful clamor of the song. But the anger began to drain out of Zendyor very slowly.

He turned, swept her up in his arms, and positioned her face first against the nearest wall.

“It was just a bit of fun,” she said, as he ripped off her panties and pulled her ass toward him.

He said nothing until he speared her with his thick length. “It wasn’t fucking fun for me,” he growled. “No one touches what is mine.” He pulled her head back, arching her back as he began to snap his hips against her, driving his thickness in and out. “I will tear him apart next time, do you understand?”

“That doesn’t normally happen. It wasn’t—”

“I know!” Zendyor bellowed. “I’ve been watching. That’s not the point. Do you understand me?”

Elora nodded, and Zendyor released her head and gripped her hips.

It was a savage claiming, but one that aroused her acutely. She wasn’t sure why—if it was the lingering anger in his scent or the base urge that compelled him to assert his dominance. Either way, her nipples hardened to the point of pain and slick dripped down her leg. The fleshy, sloppy smacks against her echoed through the room and he went so deep, so hard she climaxed three times in a row, even though he hadn’t touched her anywhere else.

When he climaxed, his seed splattered on her ass and slit and he spun her around and kissed her like she was the sweetest, most satisfying thing he’d ever had in his mouth.

After that, Elora expected Pelles and the rest of the staff would be less enthusiastic about their lord, and even be more fearful of him. Bewilderingly, they were excited.

“You’re going to be next!” Sarai squealed. “I can feel it.” The other servants were so excited they could barely speak.

Elora stared at them, confused. “Next for what?”

“To be our lord’s mate,” Cyndra said. “The signs are all there. He is so jealous over you!”

Elora laughed and shook her head. “No, no, that’s not how it works. I’m his treasure.”

Cyndra frowned. “What?”

“His treasure. That’s how he sees me. He doesn’t want anyone touching his toys, his dragon is the same way.”

Sarai made a sudden alarmed face at her.

“I hear,” Elora added quickly. “I hear his dragon is like that.”

“You never know,” Pelles said. “It could happen.”

Elora smiled at them all. “No, it can’t. I can’t understand his language or wield magic. When his mate shows up, I’m sure we’ll all know it without a doubt.”

“True,” Askel said thoughtfully. “But I still want it to happen with you.”

A few weeks later, after one of Felsie’s fictional stories, when everyone was both tearful yet hopeful, the other servants kept glancing at the door. Usually at the end of the stories, they talked a little bit about their experiences in the war, sharing memories so that the ones they loved were still alive in their hearts. But this time, no one spoke.

When she turned to look, Zendyor stood in the doorway; thick arms crossed and face somber, as he observed the group.

“My lord,” Felsie said. “Welcome. I hope you enjoyed the story.”

Zendyor stepped into the room and strolled around the edge of it, saying nothing. The servants’ expressions were all a mix of admiration, apprehension, and wonder.

The dragorai settled his back on the wall opposite Elora. “The North Cities.”

Elora squinted at him, wondering if she’d heard correctly.

“Tell me about them,” he said, his eyes unwavering on hers.

Elora frowned. “There’s not much to say about them,” she said. “They are a bunch of ruined cities that used to be wealthy and impressive, but now they are ruins.”

“How did you navigate living there,” he asked.

Elora shifted her head, confused at the question. “What do you mean?”

“You claim you were seeking refuge in my brother’s lair from the war. How?”

Elora stared at him. “The war was dangerous for everyone,” she said slowly. “Surely you understand that.”

“And yet you managed to survive,” he murmured, his eyes running down her body, “with your maidenhead intact and without ever being impregnated. That is quite an impressive feat for an omega such as yourself.”

Irritation jostled Elora’s shoulders as heat ran up her neck. She glanced at the servants, who were watching the exchange. “Such as myself? What do you mean?”

“Tell me about the North,” Zendyor demanded.

Elora’s mouth tightened, but she spoke calmly. “The North is grey and cold and desolate,” she said. “It looks empty until you look closer and see that everyone is out of sight, watching everyone else. All of its cities are in ruins, buildings are falling apart and crumbling. There is little farm life, and what there is left is fought over by factions. It’s important to watch out for, not just the bombs and the queen’s soldiers, but other factions, wild animals, disease, crumbling buildings, ember. It is impossible to survive there unless you have a support system.”

“And who was your support system?”

“My faction.”

“Tell me about them.”

Elora frowned. “I’ve told you—”

“You told me about very specific, detached incidents and people. And always positive accounts. I want to know, in a broad sense, who they were and what your background was with them.”

Elora said nothing for a moment, but she was puzzled by the sudden interest. “Why do you want to know?”

Zendyor’s face hardened. “Why wouldn’t I want to know?”

Felsie cleared her throat. “It would be good to hear a real hopeful story for a change.” She smiled at Elora. “You sometimes mention how great your faction was. It would be nice to hear about them.”

The rest of the servants were looking at her now, nodding in agreement and interest.

Elora took a breath. “It was mostly made up of my family,” she began. “But it was also one of the most long-lasting factions that existed since the war began. It began when a group of neighbors and families agreed to protect each other until the war was over. Uncles, aunts, cousins, and loosely connected relatives were all brought into it, so their ideas and skills and efforts helped to set the faction up in the best position for longevity during war.

“The main philosophy of the faction was that if we could protect each other and look after each other, no matter our differences, then we could survive. Every few years, new faction leaders were chosen from the different families to make a deciding group who stayed true to the core beliefs.”

“That’s a great attitude to have,” Cyndra murmured.

“That’s why you’re so smiley and positive all the time,” Sarai said, grinning.

“But how did they stick to it?” Askel asked. “People can be emotional.”

“I think what made a difference was that we did really care about each other. My mama and papa constantly talked about the importance of family, and the need to laugh and find joy every day, even when things seem hopeless.” She hesitated, remembering some of the years on the streets of the North. “And sometimes things really were hopeless,” she whispered. “Terrible things happened. We lost people. We lost children. People were hurt. Some of us had to starve at times so others could make sure the whole faction ate later. Hard decisions had to be made to ensure the faction could retain everything it had gained.”

“There were children in the faction?” Pelles asked.

“Yes. I think that was one of the reasons we survived so long. We were trained to approach life during war a certain way—a way that made us feel like we were safe, because we’d always have each other.” Elora looked around the room. “I think that’s important for wherever we are.”

Many of the servants grinned at her, murmuring in agreement.

“Why do you speak of your faction in the past tense?” Cyndra asked.

Elora tensed, but tried not to make it obvious. “I’m not with them anymore, that’s all.”

The dragorai moved forward, down the middle of the room toward Elora and the servants fell silent. He stopped directly in front of her chair, looking down on her and blocking her view from the rest of the room. He raised a hand to the other servants. “Dismissed.”

The servants rose and filed out of the room as quickly and as quietly as possible, while Elora and Zendyor’s eyes remained on each other.

“You are trying to do that here,” he stated. “Recreate your faction in this lair with my staff, even though you do not have a position. Is this what you did in my brother’s lair?”

“No,” Elora said, affronted. “But I think we should have some kind of similar community among us here.”

“Your experiences with your faction were events that cannot be replaced or recreated,” the dragorai said. “You all shared a highly stressful and unique situation that you all endured together. My lair is not like that. It is steady; it is monotonous. Everyone comes from different backgrounds and different parts of the Twin Realms and they come to work, not to find a new family. This will never be your faction.”

“I don’t want them to be my faction,” Elora insisted. “Nothing can replace my faction. They were my family. I just want to feel like this can be home, somewhere that I belong.”

“Did you have a man tend to you when you were with them?” A layer of deep displeasure entered his tone. “Are you missing someone specific?”

“No,” Elora insisted. “I miss my mama and papa the most, but I miss them all.”

Zendyor said nothing, observing her as she looked back up at him. He leaned forward, his midnight eyes deepening. “You will move into my chambers tonight. I’m tired of having to wait for you when you are needed in my bed.”

Elora swallowed, a mix of emotions tumbling through her.

“And when you come to my bed tonight,” he continued, “you will tell me everything I want to know. What happened to your faction, why you dislike the Goddess, and how you crossed my range. No excuses, no lies. The truth. Or I will be forced to send you back to the North Cities.”