Kaaslithe’s death didn’t bring Shrike the joy she thought it would.

She was glad that it would no longer terrorize her people, but it was hard to derive any real catharsis from his demise when she hardly played any role in his defeat.

It didn’t help that some of the younger zeraphs behaved as if she had. She looked on in embarrassment as several children prepared to reenact a far-fetched version of the event and fought over who would get to pretend to be her.

“If they’re gonna give you credit, why not just accept it?” Zhu suggested offhandedly.

“I want to be commended for my own accomplishments. I don’t want to just leech glory off yours.”

“As a professional parasite, your disparaging use of that word grossly offends me.” Shrike rolled her eyes. She peered over the ramparts and watched a pair of shantus drag an enormous foot through a gate.

“What’s the point of bringing that back?” She couldn’t imagine any creature being capable of biting into the monster’s scales or brass-hard flesh.

“The meat gets a lot softer once most of the blood has leaked out. In a rotation or two, it shouldn’t be much tougher than beef.” Zhu explained. “At least, that’s how it worked with the titans we killed.”

“Could I try a piece once it becomes edible?

“Titan meat has a stupidly high amount of vitamins in it. Tyrants and blue bloods can usually handle it, but you’ll end up puking to death if you try some. This thing was a carnivore too, so it’s probably built up a lot of mercury. Honestly, even the tyrants might have a hard time digesting it, but it’s not like we got much of a choice.”

Shrike sighed in disappointment. It would have been karmic justice if her people got to feast on the Silent Death as if it were any other animal. Zhu put a necklace on her when she wasn’t looking. A long tooth hung from the crude string.

“Is this one of Kaaslithe’s?”

Zhu paused. “Hmm? Oh. No. That probably would have been a good gift to give you, though. It’s one of Dirge’s,” he informed her, as he tried to fit a bracelet on her wrist. She pulled her arm away and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Why are you making me wear this?”

“Cause it’s super convenient. You know how warmongers can speak through telepathy, right? Well, it’s got a few limits. Get too far and they can’t connect with you, unless you happen to have a piece of them on you. It’s weird, but that’s how it works. If it makes you feel better, they’ve been given a good scrubbing.”

“It’s still gross,” Shrike complained as she rolled the bracelet up her hand.

“If you think wearing them is bad, you should check out my new piercing.” Shrike grimaced when Zhulong showed her the ivory piercings attached to his tongue’s frenulum.

“Ew!”

“Yeah, getting it in really sucked. One bad side of super-fast regeneration is that my body has a temper tantrum whenever I need to put something in it. Still, good to have if I get captured or something.” He shot her a toothy grin. “You sure you don’t want to come with me to meet this Worm King feller?” he joked.

“I already have to worry about keeping my mind from being infected. I rather not have to worry about my health too.”

Zhu just laughed at her blunt refusal. Since word of her and Thrugg’s conversation got back to him, Zhu had given her more space. She, on the other hand, refrained from telling him the real reason she refused to become an exarch. She almost felt guilty for withholding this information from him. Whenever those feelings crept up on her, she reminded herself that if their positions were reversed, Zhu wouldn’t have felt an iota of remorse. Shrike had to keep her options open to ensure she wouldn’t end up just being a rung on somebody else’s ladder.

“What do you think he’s like?” Zhu asked.

“Disgusting. Horrible.”

“That’s not helpful.”

Shrike gave him an annoyed look. “I’ve never even seen him before. What did you expect?”

“Well, you lived in this place your whole life. Figured you’d have something on him. I didn’t pay attention to politics, but I bet I could at least fill out an index card’s worth of info on the president.”

Sighing, Shrike made a halfhearted effort to come up with something substantive. She growled when Gymnoris crossed her mind.

“He’s most likely a coward,” she guessed. Shrike elaborated further when Zhu looked up with interest. “Anyone that commits themselves to Raya would have to fear death more than they fear suffering and disgrace. That’s a cowardly mindset, if you ask me.”

“Hmm, hopefully, you’re right. Or it's possible that he just can’t afford to die yet.” Both of them took a moment to consider that second notion. “That Rite-Of-Sprite weirdo mentioned he was a doctor, didn’t he? It’d be hilarious if this Worm King was some puny nerd you could shove into a locker. Knowing my luck though, he’ll be some machiavellian schemer that has charted up some elaborate two-hundred-year plan to kill everything on the planet. Oh well, at least this trip will give me a break from all this constant ass licking. And I’ll get some more space from, you know, them.”

Shrike peered over his shoulder. “Uh, they’re actually heading towards us right now,” she whispered.

“I wasn’t born yesterday. You won’t trick me with such a basic—eep!” Zhu squealed when something slapped him. He rubbed the top end of his tail and meekly turned around. “Are you going to do that all the time?”

Arnei smirked. “Yes.” Her playful grin faded away when Natsume and Velvet closed in on the pseudowyrm. “We know that once you meet that diseased freak, you’re going to use quarantine as an excuse to avoid talking to us again. So, we’re going to speak our piece before then.”

Zhu meekly nodded.

Velvet took over. “So much has happened these past few weeks, but perhaps the biggest change we’ve seen occurred within you. I still remember how overjoyed I was when I learned you could finally understand us. But my joy turned to worry when we realized that you have lost as much as you’ve gained. You’re not as confident as you used to be. Worse, you feel pain now!”

“I am the same guy I always was,” Zhu replied. “You’re just seeing every bit of me instead of when I’m at my best. Sorry if that disappoints you,” he chuckled.

Velvet shook her head. “I am not disappointed that you’re a bit different than what I thought you were. What hurts is that you refuse to let us know you.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, guys,” Zhu sighed. “I’m not used to this. Never really had to keep things close to my chest or learned to spare anyone’s feelings. Well, now I have a storehouse of secrets I got to keep locked up and don’t have the tact to keep them without stepping on somebody’s toes. All I can tell you is that I crossed one of the few lines I set for myself when I created you. I understand if you girls decide to despise me or try to get revenge for rejecting you, but I can’t accept your fake affections.”

“What do you mean fake?” Arnei demanded.

Zhu flinched at her outburst but did not back down. “I programmed your personality. You are compelled to like me and find me attractive. That was pathetic of me, and I can’t take this charade anymore. Once we get the resources, I can put you guys back into the spawning pods and see if I can erase that part of your personality.”

“I don’t want that!” Arnei shouted. Velvet and Natsume nodded in agreement.

“Well, I suppose you will just have to figure out a way to move on.”

“That’s not happening either!”

That declaration in of itself would have taken Zhu aback. The fact that it came out of Velvet’s mouth left him stunned.

“You told me to find happiness no matter what it took. Well, the key to my fulfillment is having you. So, no matter how long it takes, no matter how far you run, I will seize you in my coils! Struggle all you want, but you will never free yourself from my grasp!”

“Damn, and I thought I was the aggressive one,” Arnei muttered.

Zhu unconsciously backed away, somewhat unnerved by Velvet’s intense stare. He let out a startled chirp when Natsume wrapped her tail around his. There was a competitive glint in her predatory eyes. “You know Zhuzhu, now that I think about it, I’m glad you suddenly decided to play hard to get. A hunt is far more exhilarating when the prey tries to wriggle away.” Zhu squeaked when she tickled his chin and blew into his ear. His reaction elicited a sadistic grin. “Now that is a lovely sound.” Natsume tittered when he tried to dislodge her without being rough. “The more you squirm, the tighter I’ll squeeze,” she whispered huskily.

Arnei, not wanting to be left out but unable to think of anything that could top the other lamia’s declarations, just slapped Zhu’s rear again and demanded that he be her bitch.

If Zhu still had a heart, it probably would have burst. He stammered and stuttered, his emotions pinballing at blazing speeds. When Natsume finally untangled herself from him, he settled on fond exasperation.

“Sputnik, what a mess I put myself in,” Zhu muttered to himself. “I’m not a man of my word, but I’ll make an exception for you three. Do what you want. There are tastier fish in the sea, but if you insist on trying to catch me, fine. I won’t snip your line or break your rod. Don’t expect me to bite your bait though. Despite the way I act, I am not easily tempted!” Zhu haughtily stuck his snout in the air as he uttered that last statement. The second he lowered it again, the three lamias leaned forward and kissed it.

Zhu reeled back as if he had been burnt. His jaw hung open as he pawed the areas their lips had touched. When he mustered the nerve to meet their smug gazes, he scowled and thumped his tail petulantly.

“That’s cheating!”