Confident that she had extracted every secret from the raider, Zyryxa still felt revolted with herself. The man had deserved retribution for what he did to Bax’s homestead—there was a flavor of Qoryxa’s justice in that. But Zyryxa was not proud. She took her mother’s axe and ended his screams, knowing that this was not the person her mother raised her to be.
“Let’s move,” she commanded, wiping his blood splatter off her cheek.
“Pelzyq thinks we should—
“I don’t care what Pelzyq thinks!” Zyryxa snapped, her tone sharper than she intended. The sting of her words was immediate. Pelzyq’s droopy frown filled her with regret. He deserved many things, but not that. This wasn’t her, wasn’t who she wanted to become. Zyryxa took a breath, trying to regain control. “What is it Pelzyq?”
Pelzyq gestured toward the raider’s discarded furs, still avoiding her gaze. Lexyn, too, gazed down at her feet. Zyryxa’s heart sank, knowing she’d disappointed her yet again. The brutality she’d unleashed was as much for what he could tell them as it was triggered by the way the raider had disrespected Lexyn. Zyryxa needed to be better than this.
She had taken the man’s dignity, pride, parts, pain, tears, secrets, and life. The thought of taking even one more thing made her stomach churn, echoing the memory of his screams. Yet, the frozen tundra bit at her exposed legs, and it was embarrassing to walk without pants or boots. She could at least remedy half of that problem.
“Pelzyq needs his top back,” Pelzyq murmured, holding up the raider’s undersized wolf fur vest against his broad chest.
Zyryxa nodded, her eyes fixed on the gruesome remains of the Fire Tribe raider. Bax’s voice cut through the silence.
“I lost three children last night,” he said, his tone hollow. “None of them had seen their sixth year of life. We did nothing to these people, yet they took everything from us. You did well, Zyryxa. Zyrthalla would be proud of you.”
Zyryxa’s grip tightened on her mother’s axe. She felt unworthy of wielding it. “Zyrthalla would not have done what I did,” she replied quietly, fighting back anger and sorrow that churned within her. How dare he invoke her mother’s name to justify the ugly thing she done?
Bax shook his head. “No, Zyryxa, I’ve seen her do much worse than that, back in the last war.”
Zyryxa stared at him, disbelief and horror twisting her thoughts. “She was noble and just.”
“She was,” Bax agreed, his voice firm. “And sometimes it is noble and just to feed a man’s child to your dragon in order to protect your own.”
Zyryxa’s breath caught in her throat and she had to hold herself back from charging this liar down. “She would never do that!”
“She did,” Bax said, his gaze steady. “And when she held the man’s next child to the dragon’s maw, she got him to agree to a duel instead of a battle that would have claimed hundreds of lives on both sides. My entire family, and many others, owe their lives to her for that.”
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Zyryxa’s mind reeled, trying to reconcile the perfect woman she knew as her mother with the one Bax described. Could her mother have traded the life of a child for the lives of hundreds? Bax spoke with such conviction, but how could she believe her mother could feed a helpless youth to Qorzillux?
Bax continued, “The information you got from that sick fuck gives us a chance to win this, and for that, I am grateful to you. Like Zyrthalla, you may prove to be my family’s hero.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s see how you feel then.”
Zyryxa remained silent, her thoughts a blizzard of confusion and doubt. She took the man’s pants, trying to rationalize her actions. She despised such ugly calculus, but if her mother would have made the same choice to save the lives of the homesteaders in this region, then perhaps it was Qoryxa’s beautiful justice. The man was going to die; Pelzyq and Bax were already trying to do the same thing with far less efficiency. Last, but not least, the man’s own lack of remorse, his vulgarity toward Lexyn, his complacency with the evil his band of raiders had committed and planned to perpetuate … he deserved even worse in the eyes of the Divine.
Despite what she had done, she was still Zyrthalla’s champion, still a true paragon of Qoryxa. She was still Zyryxa, not some monster. Zyryxa turned to Lexyn, and with a small nod, silently promised to be careful with her justifications and to always try the way of compassion first. As she looked back at the mutilated raider, she vowed not to become the evil she fought.
Pelzyq broke the silence, as he usually did. “Let’s see how Pelzyq feels when he is reunited with his top.”
Zyryxa sighed, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She pulled the raider’s pants on and cinched the belt to fit her hips. Even with half of her left leg still exposed, she instantly felt more comfortable in the cold. Holding the gray top, she shot a meaningful look at the men.
Bax caught the hint and turned away, giving her some privacy. Pelzyq, however, was Pelzyq.
“No peeking,” Zyryxa warned sharply.
“You’ve been gawking at Pelzyq’s pectorals all day. Why shouldn’t you return the favor?”
“Pelzyq,” Lexyn said softly, “please turn around.”
Pelzyq smirk melted into a genuine smile. “Lexyn asked nicely. For that, Pelzyq listens.” He turned, facing Lexyn with an almost reverent expression. “Zyryxa is like Monzqora—hard to look away from but ready to erupt at any time. Lexyn is like the ocean, endless blue beauty with waves that soothe Pelzyq’s soul.”
Lexyn blushed deeply, her gaze dropping to her feet. “That’s nice of you to say, Pelzyq.”
Zyryxa rolled her eyes, quickly changing into the dull gray wolf furs. “Qoryxa help us all,” she muttered, hurling Pelzyq’s top at his back.
Pelzyq caught the furs with a laugh. “Pelzyq is sorry, ladies. He knows you’ve enjoyed the view.” He winked at Lexyn, who looked like she wanted to disappear. “But all good things must come to an end.”
Bax sighed, a faint smile on his lips. “Reminds me of my early days with Craz and Striqa, before Valqa came along and brought the brood into balance.” He nodded thoughtfully. “You three are going to be just fine when you find your fourth.”
Zyryxa patted Zyrxl while the drake finished lapping up the last of the raider’s orange blood. The cold realization of what lay ahead settled in as she thought of Matyxal, memories of the woman’s triumphs in the tourneys rushing through her head.
“Let’s make a plan,” she said, her voice steady but her heart heavy. The weight of what she had done, and what she still had to do, pressed down on her, but she was ready to bear the load and determined to stay true to herself—to be her mother’s legacy.
Still, Matyxal’s freckled face loomed in her thoughts and sent tendrils of fear down her spine. She prayed this Natazia was as good as Lexyn said she was. No, she needed to be even better.