“Doesn’t make her incapable.” Selene steps forward, and there’s steel in her voice. Fire in her storm-gray glare. “I was a wreck when Drayke found me. Couldn’t control my flames, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t do anything except react. But I learned. I got stronger. She can too.”
“Your situation was different.”
“Was it?” Selene’s eyebrow arches. “Kidnapped, tortured, used for my blood? Sounds pretty similar to me. The only difference is timing.” Her chin lifts. “And maybe the fact that someone believed I could survive instead of writing me off as a liability.”
Auren’s jaw tightens. Even Drayke shifts slightly—an acknowledgment, maybe, or a warning to his mate.
“She’s not a weapon to be contained.” My voice rises. Can’t help it. “She’s a person. A person who was kidnapped, tortured, and drained for three weeks by psychopaths trying to wake an ancient monster. And your response is to treat her like a problem to be solved?”
“My response is to ensure our security.” Auren doesn’t back down. Never does. “Sentiment won’t protect this fortress when Valdris’s army arrives.”
“Neither will abandoning someone who needs us.” I shove back from the table. My chair screeches against stone. “She’s under my protection. End of discussion.”
“Your protection?” Auren’s tone could cut glass. “Since when does one brother’s infatuation override strategic necessity?”
“Since that brother’s infatuation might be the only thing keeping her alive.” Selene’s voice cuts through our escalating tension. “Both of you, sit down and stop flexing. You’re not helping.”
I blink. Turn toward her. She’s standing with her arms crossed, fire dancing in her eyes, looking for all the world like a queen about to command her court.
“Auren.” She pins him with a look that makes even the coldest brother pause. “Your tactical concerns are valid. No one’s dismissing them. But you’re thinking about this like a military problem when it’s actually a personal one.”
“Personal concerns have no place in?—“
“Oh, shut up.” The words come out with affection despite the edge. “You’re not a machine, no matter how hard you pretend. And neither is she.”
Auren’s mouth snaps closed. Progress.
“Here’s what I know from experience,” Selene continues. “Aisling needs to feel in control of something. Anything. Right now, her whole life has been stripped away. Her home, her sense of safety—all gone. If you put her in a box and tell her it’s for her own good, she’ll either break trying to escape or break when she can’t.” She looks down. “I almost did. Drayke’s restraint is the only reason I didn’t burn down this entire fortress in my first week.”
“Restraint.” Drayke’s mouth curves slightly. “That’s what we’re calling it.”
“Selective patience.” Selene waves a dismissive hand. “The point is she needs agency. Training gives her that. Something to focus on besides the nightmare waiting to find her.”
“And the tactical concerns?” Auren’s voice has thawed slightly. Not warm—never warm—but less frozen.
“Are valid.” Selene acknowledges with a nod. “But Zyphon might have a solution for those.”
All heads turn to the shadows where our most dangerous brother lurks.
Zyphon steps forward, and the darkness clings to him, reluctant to release its grip. Violet light pulses through the cracks in his obsidian scales—manifestation of the shadows that have been consuming him slowly for three hundred years.
“My shadows react to Valdris’s power.” His voice is ice and darkness. “Have for centuries. I felt it when they used Aisling—felt the Relic energy singing through me like a beacon.”
Silence falls. Even Auren stops calculating.
“You felt it?” Drayke’s tone sharpens. “Why didn’t you report this?”
“I’m reporting it now.” Zyphon’s mouth curves—not a smile, exactly. Something darker. “If Valdris’s magic calls to my shadows, perhaps my shadows can answer. Disrupt her ability to track the Fire-Bringer. Turn the thread between them into static instead of a signal.”
“That’s theoretical.” Auren’s skepticism carries a hint of interest now. “Untested.”
“So we test it.” Zyphon’s gaze finds mine. Holds it. “The calculus is simple. We can use the Fire-Bringer’s presence here as a weapon against Valdris—a thread that works both ways, a tracker that can be reversed. Or we can let our enemies use it against us.”
“She’s not a weapon.” The protest rises automatically.
“Everything is a weapon.” Zyphon’s voice holds no judgment. Just cold, terrible truth. “The question is who wields it.”
More silence. Torchlight flickers across faces I’ve known for centuries, and I realize we’re at a crossroads. A decision that will shape everything that follows.
