I can’t deny this. The image of Mara plummeting into the darkness swims before me, and I swallow hard against the surge of grief. But being sidelined when we’re facing such an imminent threat feels wrong.
My mother’s hand closes over mine on the table. Her touch is gentle, but her voice is unyielding.
“We’ll discuss this privately in my quarters.”
As the meeting adjourns, people move with urgent purpose. Teams forming, communications established, missions planned… all because of what I discovered. Yet I’m being escorted away like a kid who’s had enough excitement for one day.
My mother’s hand is at my elbow, guiding me toward the door. I let her lead me away, but the fire inside me hasn’t dimmed. We have seventy-two hours until the Syndicate unleashes their plan, and somehow, I know I’ll be there when they try. Whether anyone approves or not.
Chapter 26
Ember
I follow my mother down the corridor, Hargen falling silently into step beside us. Before the elevator doors close, I catch a glimpse of Luke still standing in the conference room, his eyes following me. The intensity in them sends a pulse of heat through my veins, awakening the dragonfire that’s been simmering too close to my skin since we returned. Then Caleb says something that pulls Luke’s attention away, and the doors slide shut, cutting off my view.
The moment he’s gone from sight, my magic settles; a telling reaction I’m not ready to examine too closely. After days of being cut off from my powers in the mountains, they’ve returned with unsettling intensity. Every emotion threatens to manifest in flame or frost, the dual nature of my heritage responding to the slightest provocation.
Neither my mother nor Hargen speaks as we ride the elevator to the residential level. The tension radiates from her, her backrigid, her movements precise. I catch the familiar scent of winter pine that always clings to her, a dragon marker I’ve inherited in a softer form.
My father’s presence feels steadier, calmer—a counterbalance to her barely controlled worry. My witch senses pick up on the magical bond between them, thrumming beneath the surface, invisible to normal perception but glowing like a beacon to my hybrid awareness.
“Here we are,” my mother says as we reach a door along the corridor. Their quarters are nicer than the temporary room I’ve been assigned; larger windows overlooking the mountains, actual furniture rather than just functional necessities. My mother closes the door behind us with a soft click that feels oddly final. The room temperature drops several degrees as her control slips momentarily.
Hargen settles into a chair by the window, his presence a quiet support. He’s letting her take the lead, but I appreciate that he’s here. Whatever storm is brewing, he’ll help moderate it.
“Sit. Please.” My mother’s voice isn’t cold, just heavy with concern.
I perch on the edge of an armchair, keeping my back straight despite the exhaustion pulling at my limbs. If I show any weakness now, they’ll use it as evidence that I can’t handle myself. The cushion beneath me warms in response to my agitation, and I concentrate on drawing the heat back into my core before it can scorch the fabric.
She studies me for a long moment, her icy eyes missing nothing: the shadows under my eyes, the way I favor my right side where the Syndicate guard landed a solid hit, the tightness in my shoulders.
“You’ve been through hell,” she finally says. “Watched Mara die, survived without power, were captured and interrogated.”Her voice softens fractionally. “That kind of trauma doesn’t just disappear because you’re safe now.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Really.” The words come automatically, a defense I’ve been using since I was a child.
“You’re not fine,” she counters. “You’re exhausted and hurt and trying to be brave.”
“It’s okay to admit you need time to recover,” my father adds gently from his position by the window. His expression holds none of my mother’s intensity, just genuine concern.
My fingers curl into the armrest, and I feel my nails sharpen involuntarily into dragon claws, the tips pressing into the upholstery. I close my eyes briefly, concentrating on pulling back the transformation. This unpredictable shifting is new, my emotions triggering physical changes without conscious intent. Another unsettling development since returning from the mountains.
Mom paces to the window, then back again. A faint trail of frost marks her path across the hardwood floor, crystallizing and then melting with each step. She’s seriously agitated. “I’m arranging for you to take leave. There’s a secure location in the San Juans. Quiet, isolated, fully protected.”
My heart sinks. “Mom, I don’t need—”
She continues as if I hadn’t spoken, “Hargen and I will accompany you. Two weeks minimum, away from all the stress of this place.”
The frustration that’s been building since the meeting breaks free. The air around me crackles with static as my witch magic responds.
“I don’t need to be sent away like a traumatized child.”
“But youaremy child.” Her voice hardens. “And you nearly died.”
“Yet I didn’t.” I stand, unable to remain still under her scrutiny. Heat pulses from my palms, and I feel the familiartingle of fire waiting to be called. I embrace it now, letting the warmth counter her chill. “I survived. I succeeded.”
“You were lucky,” she replies.
“It wasn’t luck.” I think of Luke’s calm under pressure, his survival expertise, the way we worked together. The current of energy that passed between us with every touch. The way he looked at me in that clearing, like I was something precious and dangerous all at once. The heat inside me builds, no longer just dragonfire but something deeper, more visceral. “Luke and I beat incredible odds together. I’m stronger now. Better.”
