Bloodlust by Nicole Zoltack Page B

long and lonely. Strange. Being by herself was something she often experienced back home, but now, she enjoyed having someone to spar with, even if most of the time 'twas only verbally.
    With barbarians, she constantly had to hold her tongue. Arguments of any kind could result in bloodshed and even death. 'Twas the biggest factor contributing to her not standing up to her father more.
    Her father. Did he know she still lived? Did he care? Perhaps in the days she had been gone, he'd married again and was striving to conceive another heir.
    Ivy almost wished this was the case. Ruling the barbarians was something she always knew she would have to do, although she did not necessarily want to.
    "What think you?" Lukor asked.
    "Always have to fill the silence, don't you?" She relished how her biting tone resonated in the crammed quarters. "My thoughts are my own."
    "For you to share if you so choose," he pointed out.
    "If." As he stood still, she had no choice but to stand beside him. How infuriating that he wished to hinder her yet again.
    The goliath stroked his chin. Little moss grew here, and he looked more tanned than green. If she squinted a little, he could almost pass for an exceedingly tall barbarian or a monsterly giant-sized human.
    "I know you hate the trolls," he said.
    "Aye."
    "The elves?"
    "Indifferent." She glanced behind them. "Have no quarrels with dragons either, so long as they don't want to char me to a crisp. Humans are a wasted race."
    "Why do you think that?"
    "They constantly bicker and fight. I don't know how the race lasted this long. All they do is fight and go to war, whether with themselves or other nations."
    He raised his eyebrows.
    Her cheeks grew warm. "Aye, the same could be said of the barbarians. And the trolls. And the goliaths."
    Lukor chuckled. "You have a fire within you."
    "And you douse it," she retorted, crossing her arms. "Are you done questioning me?"
    He ducked his head and stalked off.
    Had she offended him in some manner? Good. Perhaps it was best to put some distance between them.
    After rounding two more corners and walking an incline, Lukor motioned for her to stay back before disappearing into a small room. Not waiting a moment, Ivy followed him.
    A man sat in a stone chair, a stone table attached to the floor in front of him. All kinds of plants grew in the room, some dying, some glowing, a few purple, one blossomed large nut-looking objects within its petals. His bald head shone, glistening with sweat. He whispered to the flower in his hand.
    Lukor grunted.
    The man whipped his head up, his brown eyes narrowing before a smile crossed his features. His human features. The Rocks of Breakingham was located on the fringe of the human domain, but considering the stone mountain had been the home of the dwarves for centuries, Ivy had been expecting a dwarf.
    She raised her eyebrows at Lukor.
    The goliath tapped the center of his forehead. "Kennan."
    The human resumed his whispers to the plant.
    "Kennan, this is—"
    "Don't talk. My plants do not like any voices but my own."
    This daft man was to be her interpreter? How long had he been cooped up in this room, away from contact with his people, let alone other species?
    She withdrew her sword, but before she could threaten either his plants or himself or Lukor, the human said without bothering to look up, "Princess Ivy of the Barbarians, I suggest you return your sword to its sheath."
    Only allowing herself to be a trifle bit alarmed, she did as he bade. Something told her to keep her lips together, and she somehow refrained from tapping her feet.
    Kennan whispered again to the plant in his hand before tucking it in between two bushes. With a deliberate slowness, he touched every petal, going around the circular room. Once that was accomplished, he eyed Ivy.
    She handed him the messages.
    "Ah, the trolls." He spoke almost too loudly. "These messages are encoded in the old troll tongue. I had thought they no longer used it. Evidently, I