“A warning,” I say softly, so only they can hear.
I let the fire lick along my fingertips, controlled but unmistakable. Let them see exactly what stands behind the words.
“If anything happens to Delia while I’m below,” I pause, meeting each of their gazes in turn, “I shall leave nothing but scorched earth.”
Alaric scowls, but nods once.
Kael does not blink.
Dagan steps forward, clasping my shoulder with a grip like stone. “Go,” he rumbles.
“They’ll guard her with their lives.”
I wait one more beat.
One last look.
Then I turn and descend into the darkness.
And with every step downward, I feel the pull of her—my Shula.
The heat of her gaze burning between my shoulders.
The echo of her heartbeat threading through my blood.
I go to meet the enemy.
But gods help them if they so much as breathe in her direction while I’m gone.
Because I will not be merciful.
Chapter 12
Delia
The Ember Vein Mining Camp, The Broken Plains
I’m too amped up to stay inside Thorne’s pavilion for more than a few hours, no matter how ridiculously luxurious it is.
I try. Honestly, I do.
The cushions are a dream—soft velvet with silken piping, plush enough to swallow me whole.
There’s a low-burning hearth that radiates not heat but some kind of comforting ambient warmth, and a haze of golden light hovers around the room like sunlight caught in honey.
I run my fingers along the polished obsidian columns, tap experimentally on one of the softly glowing alchemical lanterns to see if it’ll shock me.
It doesn’t. Small victories.
Tucked in the far corner, I find a little shelf—books.
My heart skips.
I make a beeline for them, grab the first spine I see… and frown.
The letters twist and shimmer, like fire mid-flicker.
Gorgeous.
