Inheritance

Part 2. Chapter Sixty-Three: Vulnerability

"How did you find Pete after you awoke with a bloodied ear?" Pollyanna changed the subject abruptly.

Them scratched his cheek and grinned sheepishly. "Well... He found me. It turned out that he was fine, but he was drawn away by a supposed Antler."

Pollyanna's eyes widened. "An Antler...?"

Them snorted. "Don't tell me that a hardened, worldly woman such as yourself believes they actually exist?"

Pollyanna made a face. Of course they exist, you fool. Do not mock fate or you will be a victim of it. She had not seen one herself, but she knew Fjorn had.

Her eyes locked with Pete's. "And you? What did the Antler show you?"

The wisp chimed and jingled wildly. Pollyanna understood none of it. Them held up a hand to silence his friend. "Oh, it doesn't matter. It was just a lot of silly nonsense."

Pollyanna was intrigued. She looked at the wisp in a different light. The creature was more mischievous than she thought.

"So..." Them said with a smile.

"So?" Pollyanna repeated sarcastically.

"Do you fell better now that I have educated you in the ways of love?" Them teased.

Pollyanna shook her head, allowing herself a small smile. "I feel better now that I've listened to you humiliate yourself, waif. Desperation isn't flattering. Letting Taylor bite your ear off in the hopes that she would sleep with you is pathetic."

Terran nearly choked on the drumstick he was eating. He guffawed cheerfully. "You're certainly right about that, Pollyanna!"

Them's cheeks turned bright red with embarrassment. However, he soon found himself laughing at his own expense as well.

Pollyanna enjoyed the moment for a second with a subtle smile on her own face. In another moment, she found her mood being dragged down by the brief comradery she shared.

She had a thought that depressed her, although she wouldn't admit it. I could never have such a good time laughing at myself like the waif does himself... I don't belong amongst these people—these simple, short-sighted, weak people.

Pollyanna stood up without a word, knocking her chair over. "I don't belong here. I know you all loathe me."

Them was surprised. "Pollyanna, where are you going? Nobody cares what you've done—we're all criminals here!"

Pollyanna didn't stop. She went on her way and refused the warmth of the friendship that Them had extended to her.

__

Pollyanna changed into her night gown with a heavy sigh.

Jealousy consumed her. Regret intruded upon her normally impenetrable psyche. Why did I take that potion?

Because having that thought was more painful than having a dragon's teeth sink into her flesh, she turned her thoughts elsewhere; they turned back to the object of her desire.

Her strong fingers dug into her mattress. If I can't have you, no one can. The thought repeated itself.

She was no longer thinking of her legacy or her old dreams—she wasn't thinking of keeping the Arrozan philosophy alive or fulfilling Fjorn's finest dream of a world where only the strong survived. She was thinking about her base desires.

Eory can die for all I care. He can't tease these dormant feelings out of me only to take interest someone else. I won't be protecting him any longer. Perhaps when he is beaten, bloody, and betrayed he will learn to appreciate my loyalty to him. Yes, I'll die, too, but that's fine. If I can't fulfill this desire, then I want to die.