“She refuses to leave.”
Auren’s gaze sharpens. “You’ve had contact with her.”
“Rogues attacked. I intervened.”
“You intervened.” Auren’s tone makes the word sound like an accusation. “For a human. In territory you haven’t personally patrolled in decades.”
From the shadows, Zyphon’s voice emerges—low, rough, edged with something dark. “You could make her leave.”
The temperature in the room drops. My dragon surges forward, scales threatening to erupt along my spine.
“She’s under my protection.”
Silence. Heavy. Knowing.
Auren sets down the map he’s been studying. His movements are deliberate, precise, as he turns to face me fully. “She’s your mate.”
Not a question. A statement.
I don’t answer. Don’t need to. My silence says everything.
Rurik whoops, slamming his palm on the table. “Finally! Four hundred years of watching you brood, and you finallyfound her!” He’s on his feet now, circling the table with barely contained energy. “When’s the claiming ceremony? Do we need to prepare the sacred chamber? I’ll handle the feast?—”
“There won’t be a claiming ceremony.”
The words land like stones in still water. Rurik’s excitement dies. Auren goes very still. Even Zyphon shifts in his shadows, those violet eyes burning brighter.
“Explain.” Auren’s voice has gone cold.
“I won’t claim her.”
The room explodes.
“You can’t be serious—” Rurik.
“This is unprecedented—” Auren.
“Fool.” Zyphon, quiet but cutting.
I slam my fist on the table. The stone cracks beneath my knuckles. “My dragon is too powerful!” The roar tears from my chest, echoing off ancient walls. “The claiming fire could overwhelm her. Kill her. I’ve spent centuries fighting for control, and you want me to risk losing it completely with her life in the balance?”
Rurik’s jaw works. “There are ways to prepare. Rituals. The old texts speak of?—”
“The old texts speak of Fire-Bringers who died screaming because their dragons couldn’t control the claiming fire.” I meet his gaze. Hold it. “I was there, Rurik. I watched it happen. You didn’t.”
He falls silent.
Auren steps forward. His expression hasn’t changed, but something in his posture has shifted. Less accusation. More calculation.
“Then we have a problem.” His voice is measured. Tactical. “Unclaimed mates are weaknesses. Liabilities. The rogues have already found her—you said so yourself. If they discover what she is to you, they’ll use her against you. Against all of us.”
“Better a liability than a corpse.”
“Is it?” Zyphon emerges from his shadows, violet light trailing behind him like smoke. His face is gaunt, but his gaze is sharp. Focused. “If they capture her—if they use her blood to awaken what sleeps beneath the old places—corpses will be the least of our concerns.”
“What are you talking about?”
Auren moves to a locked chest in the corner of the room. Opens it with a key that hangs around his neck. When he returns, he’s carrying scrolls so old, they look ready to crumble.
