Quinn sighed, numbly noting how the basilisk curled around her waist as it shrunk in size again.
Soft footsteps approached, as Lorraine slowly came to kneel by her feet—a steaming cup in hand. “Drink this,” the older woman said. “It’ll help you regain your strength faster.”
“You might not want to do that—” Draeven started as Quinn took the cup and downed it in one go. Her chest racked itself as she let out a spluttering cough.
“What’s in that? Poison?” Quinn croaked as Lorraine gave her a slight smile and took the cup.
“Medicine,” she answered.
“Same thing,” Draeven bit out from the other side of the room where he watched her hesitantly.
“You’re scared of him, aren’t you?” Quinn asked, petting the sleek mauve scales. She liked the feel of them.
“Eh…” Draeven tilted his head side to side. “I’m not a fan of creatures that could eat me, or in its case, kill me with a bite.” Quinn shook her head, a slight upturn to the corner of her lips. “Are you going to make it on a horse this afternoon?” he asked.
Quinn sighed and the slight smile slipped from her face. “I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” He nodded, understanding shone in his violet eyes.
“Lazarus won’t say it, but he has a good reason for leaving today,” Draeven said as Lorraine moved around her to begin packing up both their things.
“He always does,” Quinn replied.
“Yes, well”—Draeven looked away from her sharp, crystalline eyes—“you let me know if you need a break and I’ll see what I can do.”
With that, he disappeared, followed by Dominicus who shouted from the ground, “It’s time.”
“We’re coming,” Lorraine called back, turning to give Quinn a sympathetic smile. “Do you know how to put the snake back?” she asked her.
Quinn blanched. “I…” She paused. “I suppose I could just ask him.” Lorraine, may the Gods bless her, she didn’t look at her like she was crazy this time. She just smiled and nodded, encouraging her the only way she knew how.
“Why don’t you try that,” she said, stepping back.
Quinn nodded and turned to the snake. “We need to go now. Can you … um … return…” She hesitated to say under my skin, but the basilisk seemed to understand. His head slithered under the hem of her shirt, his tongue briefly flicking at her bare stomach, making her jump before he melted beneath her skin. Quinn shivered as goosebumps broke out across her arms.
“Are you alright?” it asked in her mind. Quinn nodded without realizing it might not know if she didn’t speak. “I can hear your thoughts, young one. Words are not necessary.”
“I see…” she thought, testing it out. The low, raspy hiss of pleasure surprised her. It sounded almost like a laugh. “You said you don’t have a name, but I think if you and I are going to be together now, you probably need one. Can I call you Neiss?”
There was a pause as the snake seemed to consider her request.
“I would like that,” it told her. She smiled and got to her feet. Lorraine kept giving her perplexing looks as they climbed down the tree hut and started toward the waiting party.
Four heads turned in their direction as Lazarus, Draeven, Dominicus, and Vaughn stood waiting. “You ready, she-wolf?” the latter asked her. She glanced at Lazarus who stood tight-lipped and proud, holding Bastian’s reins.
“I’m ready,” she said, and this time she meant it.
Veracity’s Compulsion
“Fear does not fear itself.”
— Quinn Darkova, vassal of House Fierté, fear twister, Master of Neiss
Quinn’s spine ached and jolted with each clomp of the horse’s hooves. The trees grew thicker around them before they grew lighter, and still they weren’t out of the mountains. When Lorraine said that it would take them days, she hadn’t been overexaggerating.
Ahead, Lazarus and Vaughn pulled their horses to a slow halt and Lazarus called back, “we’re stopping here for a rest!”
The longer that passed by, the sorer Quinn felt, which meant the more her patience was running thin with people, especially Lazarus. He’d been awfully stoic since they set out from Cisea, no words or sly glances, and she’d been put back with Lorraine. That partially had something to do with Draeven and Dominicus being anxious about Neiss. They were scared of the basilisk, whereas Lorraine, if she was—she didn’t show it. It was going a long way towards increasing Quinn’s tolerance of her, that and her silence. She hadn’t muttered a word of propriety or manners, though her lips thinned