“Yes, there were servants who made sure of that,” Elora said. “This just seems a little less busy.”
“Our lord does not allow anyone to be idle,” the steward explained. “Everyone in a dragorai lair must be useful.” She shot Elora a strange look. “Surely, it must have been the same in the lair that you were in. It is one of the main edicts of the dragorai culture.”
Elora frowned. Were all the activities they did in the other lair considered to be idle activities? Maybe they would be to this steward, but that lair also had more kon’aya. Maybe it was quiet here because there were less people.
“Do you have activities here?” she asked the steward. “Such as painting or Dao or—”
“We do not live in a lounge,” the steward said, somewhat sharply. “Everyone here supports the lifestyle of the dragorai who shelters and protects us. That is our role and that is what we do.” She made a low tutting sound with her mouth. “I am guessing that your Lord Nyro and his stewards run his lair completely at odds with the way dragorai lairs are supposed to be run,” the steward said, tightly. “We do not have time for unnecessary leisure.”
Elora’s heart sunk. So this lair was nothing like her old one at all.
“A dragorai lair is not an escape from the war,” the steward continued, “nor is it a substitute to the life we may have had before the war. It is a sacred place to worship and support the dragorai-alpha to whom it belongs. Anyone here should be proud to do that.”
“I am,” Elora said quickly. “I don’t want you to think that I went to Master Nyro’s lair solely to escape the war. I definitely respect the dragorai.”
“If you did, you would not have trespassed on our lord’s land. You would have known how territorial they are and that you were putting your life in danger.”
“I had no—”
The steward held her hand up sharply, stopping Elora from continuing. “I can see that you will need training about what living in a dragorai lair is supposed to be like,” she said, “and that is only if our lord allows you to stay. I’m not sure what he will have in store for you, but as Walrick said, our lord despises rule breakers, as do most of us here.”
Elora kept her mouth shut this time. There was no point in speaking until she knew whatever she said would not offend this steward. When she first arrived at Nyro’s lair, Dayatha seemed strict and I’mya had argued that sometimes she was unreasonable and would use magic on them without their consent, but Dayatha never judged them. This steward saw Elora as some kind of deviant who was keen to subvert the dragorai culture. She would have to try to correct the steward’s opinion, if she had a chance to.
The steward stopped outside a closed door and gestured to Elora’s carrysack. “Give me your belongings.”
Elora slipped her carrysack from her shoulder. “Why?”
“I will keep it with me so whatever you are carrying doesn’t get damaged.”
Elora wondered what she was talking about but didn’t ask. The less confrontations she had with this steward, the better. She handed over the carrysack and the steward gestured to the door.
“Our lord will visit you in here when he returns.”
“How long will that be?” Elora asked, glancing at the door. “Is that my room?”
“It is where you will wait until he returns,” the steward said. “In you go.”
Elora opened the door and stepped in, and a rush of energy swirled around her, yanking her up to the middle of the room. She yelped as her feet lifted off the floor and spun her around to face the door she entered, her body suddenly weightless. The prickle in the air had to be magic, there was nothing else that could fill the air so completely and impact her body in such a way. It held her upright in the middle of the room, locking her in position with outstretched arms, though her legs were relaxed as they dangled.
Elora pressed her lips into a tight line as she realized she was in a dark, magical cell with lamps attached to the walls. She was probably going to be stuck in this position until the beast returned. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she repeated to herself that this lair would only be what she could make of it, and although things didn’t look good for her right now, if she convinced the dragorai to spare her when he returned, then she would still have a chance of being part of the lair’s community. So far it was nothing like her old lair, but she’d only met two stewards and from what she knew, the stewards were not the main bulk of the staff. It was the servants who really mattered, and if she could find a way to join them, it wouldn’t matter what any of the stewards thought about her; however, it was difficult to remain positive and confident about her new circumstances. She hadn’t anticipated the degree to which Zendyor would consider her a criminal. She understood why he was so protective of his land and why he disliked trespassers, but it still felt over-the-top.
She twisted her wrists. The magic allowed her some leeway to rotate her arms, but that was all. Sighing, she told herself things would be all right, and she began the long wait.
Elora was unsure how long she hovered in the empty cell. It felt like hours, but there were no windows and no indication of passing time. Something that confused her was how the magic in the room was able to hold her for so long. As far as she had been aware, magic could only be compelled by incantations spoken in the dragorai’s language or by potions, so she thought someone would at least visit to keep the magic active, but no one had come to her cell. The time passing was mindless and boring; she couldn’t even sleep. And just when she thought she might scream in frustration, the door finally opened.
The beast stepped in.
The air thickened around her at the sight of the enormous hulk of him, and her nerves sparked, sending gooseflesh along her arms.
His gaze locked onto her as he came forward, though once again his eyes were darkened to black hollows by the dancing flames of the lamps. But Elora noticed his jaw was tight, his fists clenched, and his nostrils flared at the sight of her. Clearly the meeting had not calmed him.
“Master.” Elora forced her words out before he said anything. “I feel I need to further explain why I crossed your land.”
“You have said enough.” His voice was rough. “And nothing you have uttered has been worth listening to.”
Annoyance sparked through her but she forced it aside. What did she expect? The dragorai were not concerned about the lives of lesser-mortals, and she couldn’t blame them—considering it was her kind who had destroyed most of theirs. She didn’t know why his dismissal of her reasons kindled her annoyance; it was an unusual reaction for her to have. “What do you wish to do with me?” she asked.
“If it was my choice,” the beast rumbled slowly, “I would hunt you.” He stepped toward her. “I would have my stewards take you out on my range to anywhere of their choosing, and I would take to the sky on my dan askha. We would chase you until your lungs were on fire and your feet bled. My dan askha would claw at you until rivers of blood poured down your limbs.” The determination in his voice left her with no doubt he would do it, and that plunged her into a new realm of horror. “We would chase you for days, maybe weeks or months,” he continued, “rationing your time to sleep or eat until you were too weak to run anymore. We would burn you until your skin blistered, until puss oozed from your wounds and infections rotted your most intimate areas.” Tears sprung to Elora’s eyes. Did he do this to people? “And then we would both rip your limbs from your body and incinerate them until they were crisp, shriveled lumps of flesh. And I would make sure you stayed alive long enough to watch your own destruction.”