Chapter 39 Elana Hear- POV
It had four little paws, a long, elegant tail tipped with a soft spade, and two massive, soulful amber eyes that looked up at me with heartbreaking recognition.
It let out a tiny, high-pitched chirp.
The absurdity hit me harder than Grace’s mace. My mind snapped. "What the—"
The forest tilted. The bowing monsters, the silver-sap trees, and the tiny black lizard-thing all blurred into a kaleidoscope of impossible colors. My knees buckled, and for the second time that day, the darkness claimed me.
And…
Maybe a few hours later, or whatever, who's counting?
I woke to a strange, wet sensation.
Slurp.
Something small and warm was dragging a tiny, sandpaper-rough tongue across the curve of my neck.
Slurp. Chirp.
Then it moved to my cheek, licking away the salt of my dried tears with frantic, rhythmic devotion. I felt the tiny weight of four paws treading on my shoulder, and a soft, vibrating hum, like a purr, but deeper, more resonant, echoed against my collarbone.
I bolted upright, my eyes flying open. "AH!"
I shrieked, batting at my shoulder, and the tiny creature went flying into the soft moss with a startled sqeek.
It landed on its back, its little belly a soft, pale violet, its legs waving in the air. It scrambled to its feet, shaking itself like a wet dog, and looked at me with those huge, glowing amber eyes.
It looked... offended. It let out a small, huffy puff of smoke from its nostrils, a tiny, perfect ring of violet haze, and began to waddle back toward me, its tail wagging with a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a reptile.
I backed away on my elbows, my heart hammering. "Xavier? Is that... is that you?"
The little beast stopped. It tilted its head to the side, let out a soft, melodic trill, and then proudly trotted over to my lap, curling into a ball as if it owned my very soul.
I looked around the clearing. James was nowhere to be seen. The monsters were still there, standing in a wide, silent circle around us, their heads still bowed.
I was in the middle of the most dangerous forest in the world, my family was gone, a traitor was on the throne, and the "Shadow Tyrant" was currently trying to take a nap on my knees.
I stared at the mossy ground, my brain vibrating with the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of my life. My family was dead, I was a fugitive, and the monarchy had just been downsized to the size of a pair of fancy slippers.
A faint, neon-yellow glow caught the corner of my eye.
I turned my head slowly, and there he was. A second tiny beast. This one was a shocking, bioluminescent yellow—the color of a high-visibility vest and just as obnoxious. He was much smaller than Xavier, barely the size of a gecko, and he was standing on a flat stone with his tiny front legs crossed.
He wasn't chirping. He wasn't wagging his tail. He was just staring at me with a flat, "I am surrounded by idiots" expression.
"James?" I whispered, my voice cracking. "Please tell me that’s you."
The neon gecko didn't move. He didn't even blink. He just rolled his eyes so hard I heard a tiny squelch, then began to pace back and forth on the rock like a miniature, caffeinated drill sergeant.
"James? You little rascal. Come here," I cooed, reaching out a finger. "I know you want to nap on my legs like the King over here."
James stopped. He looked at my finger, then at me, and let out a huff that sounded suspiciously like a scoff. He turned his tiny, neon head toward the sky, gesturing with a sharp flick of his snout toward the moon hanging like a cold, silver hook above the canopy.
"The moon? What’s with the moon? We’re going to the moon?"
The gecko shook his head with a slow, exaggerated motion, as if he were trying to explain basic physics to a toddler.
"Okay, okay. We go... toward the moon? Up?"
James let out a long, dramatic sigh—the kind of sigh that involves the whole body—and closed his eyes, leaning his head back as if praying for a meteor to strike the forest and end his suffering.
"I can't go to the moon, James! If that’s what the long-suffering sigh was for."
He opened one eye, looked at me, and then pointed his tiny, toothpick-sized arm toward the top of a gargantuan, silver-barked Elder Oak. The tree was at least two hundred feet tall, its branches twisting like the limbs of a frozen giant.
"Ah. You want me to fucking climb a tree? Hell no. Not in this nightdress, James! I have standards. And the wind is currently whistling through places I’d rather keep private."
The neon gecko didn't argue. Instead, he lunged. He scrambled up my dress with the speed of a lightning bolt, scaled my shoulder, and—with a sound like a wet sponge hitting a wall—smacked me right in the center of my forehead with his tiny lizard hand.
Ttap.
I blinked. "Is that the best you can do? You smacked me with your toothpick hands? I’ve had more aggressive encounters with a butterfly, James."
I rolled my eyes, expecting him to scurry off, but the little neon menace had other plans. He dove into the golden bird's nest that was my hair, burrowing deep into the tangles of leaves and dried blood near my ear. One minute he was being a Grade-A ass, and the next, I heard a rhythmic, tiny whistle.
He was snoring. In my hair.
I sat there, frozen, with the King of Drakmor drooling on my lap and his High Commander using my head as a five-star hotel.
"This is just... fantastic," I muttered, looking out into the woods.
The Forbidden Forest was terrifyingly beautiful at night. The trees weren't just wood; they were living monuments of gnarly bark and glowing sap that dripped like liquid starlight.
The monsters, those hulking, three-eyed, two-headed nightmares—were still there, sitting in the shadows like a very large, very scary audience.
But something was wrong. Or right? I realized I could see. Not just 'night-vision' see—I could see the individual veins in the leaves a hundred yards away. I could see the heat rising off the orc's skin in ripples of orange and red. The forest floor was a map of glowing trails and hidden scents.
I breathed in hard, the cold, sharp air smelling of ancient earth and... violet.
"Right," I whispered, shifting the sleeping King-lizard so he didn't slide off my knee. "I’m part dragon, my bodyguard is a neon gecko, and I’m apparently the only one with thumbs left to climb this tree."
The orc in the shadows let out a low, encouraging grunt.
"Oh, shut up," I snapped at him. "You try climbing an Elder Oak in silk and lace."
With a huff, I stood up, tucked the sleeping Xavier into the bodice of my gown—where he let out a satisfied mrrrph—and looked up at the first branch.
"Well, James," I muttered to my hair. "I hope you like the view, because if we fall, I'm landing on the King first."