Daughter of Azeroth

46 | THE DRAGON

The summer Idira turned twenty-two, Logan came to the house with news. He paced back and forth in the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest, his leather armour creaking in the warm, dry air. He turned to look at her, his shoulder-length dark hair tied back in a leather thong. A recent scar across his cheek made him look older than his twenty-five years. He hadn't shaved, but his stubble suited him. He had tried to kiss her once, the first day he had seen her in her new dress, made from the material he had bought for her. Despite her misgivings, curiosity overwhelmed Idira, so she let him. Their lips had barely touched before he had pulled back, abrupt, and stared at her, taken aback, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth. It's like kissing my sister, he'd shuddered. Idira nodded, fighting the urge to gag. It had felt just as wrong to her too. From then on, the innuendoes stopped, and he treated her as a brother would, as fiercely protective of her as Unambi.

But right now Logan was furious. It seemed not only had Idira and Unambi survived the champions' attack on VanCleef's ship, but VanCleef's daughter Vanessa had also survived and had remained hidden in plain sight at the Saldean's farm; the child they had taken in and named Hope had grown into a young woman who pretended to be an upstanding member of Westfall's community. He eyed Idira, suspicious, distant.

'In all these years, why didn't you ever tell me?' he asked, anger edging his words, making them sharp.

Idira rubbed her palms up and down against her hips, nervous, rucking up the smooth material of her dress. She had never seen Logan like this before. He frightened her a little.

'You would have killed her,' she answered, quiet. 'She ran away the night we arrived. I thought she just wanted to put everything behind her, have a normal family after all she had been through. She was just a little girl!'

'Indeed,' Logan grated out the words, 'except that VanCleef's blood courses through her veins.' He slammed his fist into his hand. 'Just when we were starting to reclaim Westfall this had to happen. Until today I had no idea who our new aggressor was, despite all my investigations. We only knew someone was gathering forces to their cause, while killing my spies in Moonbrook. But now I know the truth!' He glared at Idira, hostile. 'I discovered it quite by accident while I rode here, to see you! One of our patrolmen writhing in his death throes, lived long enough to say she told him her name as she cut him, saying 'Hope' is a lie.' He moved closer, menacing. 'But here is the bitterest irony of all, that conniving, vengeful creature will take anyone into her ranks, even the enemies of her father.' Logan nodded, terse as Idira raised her hands to her mouth. 'Before she killed all my infiltrators, I had been getting reports Jac was losing control, his men in-fighting and jockeying for power, the entire structure of his organisation fragmenting. We were using it to our advantage, but now she has come along, determined to gather Jac's disaffected to her cause, the little bitch wants Moonbrook for herself. Now once more, our enemies are organising, and under someone we could have easily contained long ago.'

He glared at her, quivering with rage. When she said nothing he scoffed and turned away. Anger emanated from him, hitting Idira like a wall. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

Idira went to him and touched his arm. 'Perhaps I could talk to her, explain to her she is wrong. She is still young. She only turned sixteen last month.'

Logan scoffed. 'Talk to her? It's far too late for that. Do you know how many have fallen to her blades?' He turned and glared at her, uttering the number as though it were Idira's fault. 'Twelve. Friends, all of them. You should have told me.'

'Yes,' Idira murmured, trying to keep up, struggling to reframe the image of the little girl who played with wooden animals and listened to fairy tales into a cold-blooded, vengeful killer, willing to work with the very men who had bombed their home and driven them into the mines. 'I see that now, if I could turn back time, knowing what I now know I would do things differently. But what good does it do to—'