“Then make me ready!” I shove at his chest—pointless, given his size, but satisfying. “Push harder. Train longer. Do whatever you have to do. But don’t you dare leave me behind while you go after the bastard who tortured me.”
Silence stretches between us. The flames around my hands flicker and dance, responding to my racing heart. Behind us, I’m aware of Zyphon watching with shadowed eyes, Auren studying us with clinical interest. The entire Brotherhood, bearing witness to this standoff.
“She has a point.” Zyphon’s voice cuts through the tension. “The Fire-Bringer who killed three rogues and burned a Relic isn’t the same woman who arrived at that cabin. She’s earned the right to fight.”
“Agreed,” Auren says, surprising no one more than me. “Her strategic contributions have been valuable. Her combat abilitiesare improving rapidly. Excluding her from field operations wastes a significant tactical asset.”
Drayke’s jaw tightens. His hands flex at his sides—claws threatening to emerge. The dragon and the man warring behind those amber eyes.
“If something happens to you?—”
“Then it happens fighting beside you, not hiding in a stone tower.” I reach up, cup his jaw, force him to look at me. “I didn’t survive everything we’ve been through just to become a damsel in distress. That’s not who I am. It’s not who you claimed.”
He exhales slowly. The tension in his shoulders doesn’t ease, but it shifts—from resistance to reluctant acceptance.
“Double training sessions,” he says finally. “Every day until we move on Veylor. You master your fire, or you stay behind. Non-negotiable.”
“Deal.” I let my hand fall, but I don’t step back. “Anything else?”
“Yes.” He grabs my waist, hauls me against him, and kisses me hard enough to make my knees buckle. When he pulls back, his eyes are pure dragon—glowing, possessive, fierce. “If you get yourself killed, I’ll find a way to bring you back just so I can yell at you.”
“Romantic.”
“I try.”
He doesn’t let go. Instead, he tucks me against his side, arm wrapped possessively around my waist as he turns back to his brothers. Zyphon’s shadows ripple with what might be amusement. Rurik grins and mimes gagging. Auren just sighs.
“If you’re quite finished with the display,” Auren says dryly, “we have training protocols to revise.”
“Jealous?” I ask sweetly.
“Nauseated.”
“Same thing.”
The strategy sessionhappens two days later.
I’m not invited. I invite myself anyway.
The war room is full when I walk in—Drayke at the head of the table, Auren to his right studying his maps, Zyphon lurking in his dark corner, Rurik sharpening the same knife that’s still sharp enough to split atoms. They all look up when I enter.
“I wasn’t aware this was an open meeting,” Auren says.
“It is now.” I take the empty chair beside Drayke. His hand immediately finds my thigh under the table—warm, grounding, possessive. I cover it with my own, lacing our fingers together as I study the maps. “Veylor’s position. What do we know?”
Silence. Then Zyphon’s voice, carrying dark amusement: “Southeastern caves. Underground network. I can feel him—faint, but consistent. He hasn’t moved in days.”
“Healing,” I say. “Or recruiting. Probably both.” I lean forward, tracing the cave system on the map. “What’s the terrain around the entrances?”
“Dense forest. Multiple exit points. Difficult to approach without detection.” Auren’s tone has shifted from dismissive to interested. “We’ve been discussing aerial assault versus ground infiltration.”
“Both are wrong.”
Four pairs of dragon eyes fix on me.
“Veylor knows you’re coming,” I continue, ignoring the weight of their stares. “He’s been planning for it since the fortress collapsed. Aerial assault gives him time to see you coming. Ground infiltration plays to his strengths—he’s been fighting in caves and forests for centuries. You need an approach he won’t expect.”
“And what would that be?” Drayke’s voice is neutral, but his eyes are sharp. Assessing.
