In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca(Book 2) Chapter 14: Shame

The dank threat of betrayal gnawed at Dragura's soul-- or the half-rotten husk of what remained of it.

Betrayal! Mutiny! The mere possibility, the raw fact that her own offspring had even considered it, was intolerable. For the first time in her nearly fifty years, Dragura experienced the nagging worry of uncertainty and fear-- she who had borne these offspring on her own, in the wilderness: she who had been so strong, so hard-hearted, so very malevolent that she had never been afraid of anything in her life. But now, things were different. Yes...very different.

The ceaseless braying of the Draca in their neck braces on the turrets above wormed its way into her paranoid consciousness, poking at her, stabbing at her. The loveliness of their voices mocked her; they were brutes, all of them, who could turn on her in a heart-beat and tear the moisturized flesh from her bones. The more she thought of it, the more befuddled and distressed she became, pacing back and forth across her bedchambers in bare feet while her beautifully embroidered shawl dragged on the floor behind her. Dragura had paled dramatically during the past several days. She had not eaten. She had not slept-- not that she did much sleeping to begin with-- and she had not once settled herself before the coveted looking glass to apply her make-up or admire her own beauty. Haggard bags hung beneath eyes that gleamed with dull madness. Dragura's hair, normally her best feature, hung in limp, greasy strings, having not been washed or treated since the evening she learned of Doora's death.

My Doora is gone. My Doora lost sight of her mission-- capturing that blasted Sashek-- and instead was waylaid by this mysterious 'star-child' which wielded so much power. Only a witch could have hexed my Daughter!

Dragura continued to pace, hands balling into tight fists at her slender waist. Her breath came in tighter and tighter gasps as the old, heavy feeling of the panic attack began to bud in her chest (a terror she had not endured since she'd been a lost, bedraggled girl in the depths of Hallow's Wood, naked and weak as she sat staring at the ova which her womb had evacuated).

It cannot be! The Draca have no weaknesses-- but that woman wounded one of the most powerful creatures to grace the planet...and her strange star-child finished the job! What is this place coming to? Whatever shall I do?

...And whom could she trust? If not her own daughters, then who? Land's sake, the very news that Doora had been bested might only sow the seeds of discord and doubt into the minds of the others, and it would only be a matter of time before they turned on her-- literally. She had seen the damage the Draca could do...had watched with maniacal laughter as her dutiful daughters had swept gracefully back into Dragura;s territory, releasing helpless victims onto the cold, stony ledge that would be their last resting places before succumbing to her Sacrifice. Victims ranged from frightened maidens who wailed and pounded at the unforgiving stone, begging to be set free so they could return to their families, or hapless infants who squirmed free from their swaddling cloths and often fell victim to the piercing cold before the chained Draca could be unleashed upon them. Then, the suitors would come-- and when she rejected them (or had them killed), she had watched many a time in morbid fascination as the ravenous Draca, released for a few precious moments from their silver-studded neck braces, alighted upon the ledge and had their gruesome fill.

...Would she now be next?

Of her five Daughters, only Daara, Disha, Deema, and the soft-hearted Dusha remained.

They would develop ideas...she knew they would. She did not know how long it would take or when the rebellion would come-- but things were sure to fall apart, and if the Draca turned against her, Dragura knew that she would be powerless to control them any longer. ...And supposing her slaves caught on? What if they, too, decided to orchestrate their own rebellion? Everything she had worked for, everything she had struggled so hard to make her own, would be gone in an instant. She could not allow it to happen!