Syris smiled, but before he could answer, he collapsed.
Roxy imdiately called for her mates, and they rushed to take him into the cabin. Roxy was a bundle of nerves, her hunger forgotten. Zarek moved the snake into the sun room.
Zarek stood in the corner, his hand pressed against the stone wall, channeling a steady, intense stream of heat into the room’s foundation. He had turned the space into an incubator, raising the temperature to over a hundred degrees to keep the Basilisk alive.
Roxy didn’t feel the heat. She sat on a stool beside the makeshift cot, holding a damp cloth to Syris’s forehead.
Her eyes were dry, burning with a focused intensity that was far scarier than her tears.
Syris was unconscious. The spear had been removed, a grueso task that had required Torian’s strength and Kaelen’s steady hands, but the damage was severe. The weapon had been serrated, designed to tear scales upon exit.
His skin, usually a vibrant, iridescent pale, was now a dull, ash-grey. His breathing was shallow, a wet rattle in his chest that made Roxy’s own heart stutter every ti she heard it.
On the floor, near the door, lay the weapon. A black spear.
"Zarek," Roxy said. Her voice was quiet, devoid of emotion.
The Dragon King opened his eyes, the gold irises glowing in the dim light. "Yes?"
"This spear," Roxy pointed to it without looking away from Syris’s face. "You know who did this. Don’t you?"
Zarek sighed heavily. He stopped channeling heat for a mont, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at the unconscious snake, his expression complicated, a mix of pity and frustration.
"I have a suspicion," Zarek admitted.
"Tell ," Roxy commanded.
Zarek hesitated. "It is not my story to tell, Roxy. Syris... he holds his past close to his chest. He is proud. To speak of his origins is to speak of his sha."
"His sha?" Roxy stood up. Her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "He is dying, Zarek! He has a hole in his tail the size of my fist because he went to get chickens. I don’t care about his pride right now. I care about who tried to murder the father of my child."
She walked over to Zarek, grabbing the front of his shirt. She was small compared to him, pregnant and exhausted, but she didn’t lose her boldness. He had thought she had beco soft, but this was the real Roxy.
"Tell. ."
Zarek looked down at her. He rubbed the back of his head, thinking of a way to start. After sighing again, he just decided to tell her.
"The Serpent Clan," Zarek said softly. "The Black Mambas of the Southern Swamp."
Roxy frowned. "The Southern Swamp? That’s miles away."
"Their territory borders the stream where you found him," Zarek explained. "Where the Earth Chickens breed."
He walked over to the window, staring out into the dark forest.
"Syris was not born a King, Roxy. He was born a Prince, technically. The fourth son of the Serpent Lord, Vipersan."
Roxy looked back at Syris, seeing the regal features, the intelligence in his sleeping face. "He’s royalty?"
Of course, he is royalty; that was why he bore the na, Prince Syris.
"He was," Zarek corrected. "But in the Serpent Clan, lineage ans nothing without power. His brothers... Malus, Ven, and Krait... they were born prodigies. Huge. Venomous from the egg. Brutal warriors."
Zarek glanced at Syris’s prone form.
"Syris was not. He was... useless and small."
Him? Small?
"He was born small," Zarek continued, his voice low. "His venom sacs were underdeveloped. His scales were soft. He relied on his mind and dicine. But to Vipersan? Intelligence is a weakness. The Serpent Lord values only crushing strength."
Roxy felt a sick feeling in her stomach. She rembered how insecure Syris was about his strength, how he constantly tried to prove his worth through service.
"They bullied him," Roxy whispered.
"They tortured him," Zarek said bluntly. "For years. He was the punching bag for his brothers. The sha of the clan. And when he reached maturity and failed to manifest his Titan Form... his father banished him."
Well, I knew of that part.
Zarek turned back to Roxy.
"They didn’t just kick him out. They stripped him of his na. They hunted him for sport to the edge of the territory and left him for dead in the snow. That was where you found him, Roxy."
Wasn’t it Torian that made him that way?
"The chickens," she murmured.
Her mind raced back to the morning. She had demanded Earth Chickens. The specific ones near the stream.
"He knew," Roxy realized, horror washing over her. "He knew that was their periter, yet he still went there."
"He wanted to please you," Zarek said gently. "You were crying. You wouldn’t eat. He likely thought he could sneak in, grab the birds, and slip out before their sentries noticed. Worth the risk if it were ."
Roxy rolled her eyes at him, and he raised his hands in surrender.
If he had co back in one piece, I would have considered eating, but now I don’t even feel like it.
"And they shot him," Roxy hissed. "They saw their own brother... their exiled brother... just trying to get food... and they shot him with a spear?"
"Basilisks are territorial," Zarek said. "To them, he is a trespasser. Vermin."
Rage suddenly clouded her vision. She walked over to the spear and picked it up.
"They hurt him," Roxy said, her voice eerily calm. "They hurt him while he was doing sothing for ."
She turned to the door.
"Where are you going?" Zarek asked, pushing off the wall.
"To the Southern Swamp," Roxy said.
"Roxy," Zarek warned, stepping in front of her. "You are pregnant. You are exhausted. You cannot go there."
"I’m not going to war," Roxy snarled, "I’m going to make them pay for doing this to Syris!"
"You are emotional," Zarek tried to reason, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Your hormones are spiking. Think about the baby. Think about your safety."
"I am thinking about the baby!" Roxy shouted, shoving his hands away. "My baby’s father is lying there bleeding because his own family wants to kill him! You think I can rest? You think I can eat my pie while they are out there laughing about how they shot the ’runt’?"
She poked Zarek hard in the chest.
"They didn’t just shoot him, Zarek. They shot us. They attacked our family. And if we let it slide... then we are exactly what they think we are. Weak."
[You forgot you are the weakest of all of them.]
Roxy hissed in her mind.
Zarek looked at her and saw absolute refusal to back down. She wasn’t asking for permission. She was informing him of her movent.
If he tried to stop her, she would likely try to fight him, too. Or worse, sneak out alone, just like what she did before.
The Dragon King let out a breath of smoke. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face.
"You are terrifying when you are angry, my Queen," Zarek rumbled.
"Is that a yes?" Roxy demanded.
Zarek confird. "I will not let you go alone. Kaelen and Torian will guard the house. You and I... we will pay a visit to Lord Vipersan."
He turned toward the door, his golden eyes narrowing.
"I have been wanting to test my new fire breath anyway."
Roxy nodded sharply. She gripped the spear. She was going to return it. Point first.
She turned to leave the room, adrenaline flooding her system, masking her fatigue. She was ready. She was going to burn a swamp down.
She was about to move when sothing cold touched her wrist.
It was a weak grip. Shaky. Barely enough to hold onto her skin. But it stopped her dead in her tracks.
Roxy dropped the spear. It clattered to the floor. She fell to her knees beside him, covering his hand with both of hers.
"Sy! You’re awake," she gasped, tears finally spilling over. "Don’t move. You lost so much blood."
Syris tried to shake his head, but he only managed a slight twitch. He tightened his grip on her wrist, desperate, pleading.
"Don’t..." he rasped, each word a struggle. "Don’t go."
"Shh," Roxy soothed, brushing the hair from his clammy forehead. "It’s okay. We’re just going to... we’re going to fix this. I’m going to make sure they never hurt you again."
"No," Syris whispered, "Please... stay. Do not... do not let them take you too."
A/N: Again, Happy New Year :3
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