Chosen by the Beasts, Claimed by the Dragon-Chapter 16: Intermission

— ZORYN —

My brain instantly goes into panic mode. What do you even say to a guy you passionately made out with the night before that you barely know?

’Hey, about last night—that was pretty cool, but we probably shouldn’t do it again.’

No, that’s stupid.

’You’re a good kisser, by the way.’

Ridiculous.

So, naturally, after going through these options in my head and coming up short, I decide to pretend it didn’t happen.

"What’s up?" I say casually.

Sylas raises a curious brow, but his smile is relaxed and smug. "Nothing, really. I just woke up. I take it you’ve been at the tournament all morning?"

"You just woke up?" I blink a couple of times. It’s almost noon!

"Hmm? You seem surprised," he chuckles. "Serpents typically sleep upwards of sixteen hours a day. If anything, I’ve underslept with only eleven."

"Wow..." I can’t even imagine sleeping for that long. Don’t get me wrong, I love sleep as much as the next guy, and back home I’m considered a late sleeper, but... that’s another level. I add, "That sounds boring."

Sylas scoffs, "I guess you could say that."

"Well, I need to get snacks and get back before the next matches start," I say, walking toward the stalls. "You can either come with me, or I’ll see you later."

"I suppose I can escort you," he answers thoughtfully.

I start walking again. "Cool. Gonna come watch the rest of the fights, too?"

"No."

...I wait for him to elaborate, but no more words leave his lips. After we take a place in line at the stall, I ask, "How come?"

"Amateurs don’t interest me. Don’t worry, I plan to watch the champion’s bracket," he answers slyly. "I wouldn’t miss the chance to see you in your element."

"You’re a flirt," I deadpan.

"Guilty," Sylas shrugs. "I can’t help it when a strong, attractive person is in front of me."

He’s too confident for his own good... but I can’t say I dislike his honeyed words, I’ve never been immune to flattery.

I scoff, "Whatever, pretty boy. Just wait ’til you see me fight, you’ll want to flirt even harder."

"Hopefully, you can put that obnoxious lion in his place," Sylas sighs and rolls his eyes. "He drives me mad."

"Who?"

"...The only one you’ve met recently," he stares at me in disbelief.

Oh. Right. I’ve already forgotten that Riven is going to fight, too.

"Ohh... yeah, well, don’t worry. I can beat his ass easy," I say resolutely.

Sylas’s lips quirk into a lopsided smile, "Of course. I can’t wait to see it."

Just as we are about to get to the front, Sylas places one of his soft, unblemished hands on my wrist. I wince a little when the small star-shaped bite he gave me burns in response.

"I must go, I have things to do," he says, "but if you need me, just activate this rune. It can summon me."

I blink. It’s a summoning rune?! Why would he give me something like that!

"Why—"

"I felt like it," he shrugs, then slips away through the crowd, giving me a wave without turning back to face me.

I glance down at the warm skin and study the marking curiously. He’s such a strange guy.

"Do ya know what ya want?"

The stallkeeper’s voice interrupts my thoughts. He’s an earthbeast with a few horns on his head and broad shoulders.

"Yeah, sorry," I say, dragging myself back to reality.

I place my sizable order, and it only takes a few minutes for him to finish it up—pretty impressive speed, if I say so myself. Most of the food is in a linen bag, so it isn’t all spilling from my arms, thank the gods. I hadn’t thought about how much food I was getting until after.

I feel countless curious eyes on me as I walk back, but I try to ignore them. This is my life now, and I have to get used to it.

I mean, it’s not like I flew entirely under the radar before yesterday. I’ve always been a, quote unquote, "pretty boy" in the eyes of everyone else, so I’ve experienced plenty of ogling—it’s just, this feels a little different. More hungry and less infatuated.

Gross.

I wonder if Ren’s magic is wearing off? Maybe my scent is getting a little bit strong again...

I shift the bag higher in my arms and keep walking.

If Ren’s magic is wearing off, I can’t do anything about it right now, so spiraling won’t help. I focus on the weight of the food, the sound of the crowd, the distant clang of metal from the arena as someone tests weapons during the intermission.

Normal things. Real things.

By the time I reach the arena entrance again, my shoulders finally relax.

"Dear gods, there you are," Roan says the second he spots me. "I was about to send a search party."

I snort and dump the bag between us. "Relax. I was gone, like, ten minutes."

Ashen leans forward immediately, sniffing the air.

I narrow my eyes. "Don’t."

He freezes mid-inhale, then clears his throat and leans back. "...Sorry."

Riven peers into the bag. "You got beetle chips."

"I’m not a monster."

He grins. "I rescind all previous slander, and, as promised, I’ll pay you back."

Orien looks up from his notes when I sit back down, eyes flicking briefly to my wrist before he politely looks away. "Did you... run into someone?"

I shrug, casual as ever. "Festival’s full of people."

Roan squints at me. "You look weird."

"I always look weird. Look, I have boobs," I motion toward my chest with a grimace. "I think that’s as weird as it gets."

The tips of Roan’s ears burn red, but he shakes his head. "No, like," he gestures vaguely at my face, "extra weird."

I narrow my eyes. "Mind your business."

Ashen’s ears twitch. He doesn’t say anything, but his gaze lingers on my wrist for half a second longer than necessary, too.

Damn, does Sylas, like, reek? Why can everyone instantly tell when I’ve met him? It’s a pain in my ass. I’ll have to tell him to stand six feet away from me at all times.

I tear open a pastry and take a bite. "Everyone shut up and eat before I decide to fight you instead of the lion."

That gets them moving.

While they dig in, I finally glance up toward the higher seating. I see Dad sitting up there with a few of the other elders, a chilling expression on his face—until, as if he can feel my eyes on him, he turns his head and meets my gaze.

His tight jaw and slightly furrowed brows loosen up the moment he sees me. The change is infinitesimal, but I notice—I can tell even the slightest differences in his expressions. To anyone else, he probably still looks murderous.

I raise my pastry in mock salute, and he returns it with a slight smirk that disappears as quickly as it came. He turns his attention back to the elders and whatever incredibly boring conversation they’re probably having.

"Lord Daeleon’s as stoic as ever, eh?" Roan notes as I take another bite.

"He looks pretty scary..." Orien mutters quietly, but looks at me and widens his eyes. "Uh— I’m sure he’s nice! I just—"

"Nah, he’s scary as hell, don’t worry," I chuckle. "I’m just used to it. Believe it or not, he actually was giving me a friendly expression just now."

Orien stares at me blankly, "...That was a friendly expression? It looked like he wanted to kill someone!"

Roan shakes his head, "Nope, she’s telling the truth. I used to worry he was going to like, beat her or something when he gave her that look when we were little—but that’s legitimately his, ’I love my child’ look."

I nod in agreement. "Yep. You should see his ’I’m proud of you’ expression—it looks like he’s at a funeral."

"No wonder you’ve got such a bad resting bitch face," Riven chimes in.

I just snort, because he’s right. Even when I’m in a good mood, if I’m not paying attention, I look like someone pissed in my breakfast.

"Half the time it’s purposeful bitch face," I laugh. "Can’t have anyone catch me slipping."

Our little group continues into casual conversation, a strange blanket of familiarity and comfort falling over us as we eat and chat.

...But, something feels missing.

I space out, staring into the distance as I try to figure out what feels wrong. I don’t think I forgot anything...

It’s then that I realize I can’t feel Ren’s presence anywhere, even on the edge of my consciousness.

Surely I don’t miss him, right? That would be super weird. I only met him yesterday.

I’m just curious as to where he is, what he’s doing... when will he be back? Will he get here in time to watch my fights later?

...Fuck. Okay, I think I miss him a little.

I take an aggressive bite of my pastry to try to rinse the thoughts of him out of my mind. Thankfully, the announcer’s voice booms across the arena before anything else can happen.

"INTERMISSION CONCLUDES IN TEN MINUTES! FINAL OPEN BRACKET CONTESTANTS, PREPARE YOURSELF!"