AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Drannatha.” Her name rolls off my tongue easily, as though I’ve just called her down for dinner. How long has it been since I’ve said it out loud? “And her daughters are Valindra, Tanulia, and Elincia.”
“She named them?”
“She did.”
The human meets my eyes now, timidly, and I find myself holding my breath as she studies me with her glassy brown eyes. Whatever she finds in my face must put her at ease, because she finally releases the tension in her shoulders and sets her open hands at her sides.
“I am Natalie.”
“Natalie.” I like how her name tastes. “Who named you, Natalie?”
“My mother, I suppose.”
“Did you know her well?”
Natalie pauses and then shakes her head. “I lived in a work camp. It’s all I’ve ever known. I don’t know if my parents died, or if they were just desperate enough to sell me. Cora, one of the women in the camps, was sort of everyone’s mother there. Until…” A rare flash of anger twists her expression, and I find myself helplessly intrigued.
Perhaps Natalie isn’t as meek as she seems.
“I am called Kha’zeth,” I say. “I don’t believe we have been properly introduced.”
“It was kind of you to take in your nieces,” she says. “Three infants at once must have been difficult.”
“It would have been harder to give them up.” The mere thought of Natalie’s parents choosing to sell her makes my fingertips crackle with retaliatory fury. If they were here, I would melt the flesh from their skulls.
I keep that to myself, however, because Natalie’s chin has begun to quiver again, and a fresh torrent of tears flow.
I have summoned magic of unmeasurable power and bent the depths of chaos to my will. It is said by many that my name will be written in the Book of Soz’garoth when my purpose comes to find me. I have raised children and manifested an army of stone. There is nothing on Galmoleth I cannot accomplish, and I suspect the same of the world below.
But gods help me, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with this crying woman.
72
NATALIE
Drannatha.
The name of the demon woman I’ve never known, Kha’zeth’s sister, rebounds in my head as we stare at each other. Prior to today, I only viewed Kha’zeth as my nameless, terrifying captor, capable of wielding destructive magic, completely without compassion or emotion, and hellbent on breeding me.
Looking at him now, my heart aches for him.
I had been terrified of him, and it was easy for me to think of him as some monster whose only purpose was to use and terrify me, but I’m slowly beginning to realize that he’s not a bad demon, just someone in a tough situation.
The irony of going from being terrified of Kha’zeth to viewing him as something close to a companion is not lost on me, and my tears come faster. I’d been terrified of Toklys, too, before falling in love with him.
Kha’zeth’s loss hits too close to home. Both of us lost people we loved, and both of us carry that burden with us every waking moment of our lives. My throat closes around a sob, and try as I might to stifle it, a small, pained noise slips from between my lips.
In an instant, Kha’zeth is beside me, wrapping his thick arms around me. I’m too lost in my grief to be scared of his proximity. I finally lose control of my tears, and sobs rack my body as he presses me tightly to his chest.
Tears chase down my cheeks, and I press my face further into him, my tears coming faster. Kha’zeth’s hand trails gently up my back before settling on the back of my head, stroking my hair as I cry.
A part of me is shocked by his tenderness and willingness to comfort me in this moment, especially after all that’s happened before now, but his touch anchors me. We weather the storm together, and by the time my sobs subside, I realize he’s rocking me gently, whispering sweet little nothings in my ear.
I sniffle, pulling away slightly to look up at him. His black eyes gleam back down at me, and I think I catch a hint of sorrow in his expression. The silence between us is almost too much to bear, and I feel the need to justify my reaction. “I- lost somebody too. Not my sister, but… someone I love.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is soft and deep, something about it reminding me of velvet. I blink at him, surprised that he cares enough to ask. I swipe away stray tears, trying to disguise my miserable countenance.
“His name was Toklys,” I manage to whisper, my voice cracking as I say his name. I haven’t spoken it since the day he died, and it feels strange on my tongue. I shake my head, pushing myself to continue. If Kha’zeth can share such a dark, intimate experience from his past, it’s only fair that I do the same.
