The door opens. Selene enters, carrying a tray of food I don’t want but know I need to eat.
“Auren.” Her tone carries affectionate exasperation. “You’ve been grilling her for two hours. Let the woman breathe.”
“I was providing information, not grilling.”
“Same thing when you do it.” Selene sets the tray on the table beside me and perches on the edge of the infirmary bed. “How are you feeling? And don’t say ‘fine.’ I can spot that lie from three territories away.”
I consider my options. Denial won’t work with her—it didn’t work in the early days either. She sees through pretense with the same casual ease she sees through everyone.
“I can hear her,” I say. “Not constantly. But often. Murmurs at the edge of my thoughts.Little flame, little key, you’ll burn for me.” My hands clench in my lap. “I reorganized the medical supply cabinet three times this morning because I couldn’t make it stop.”
Selene’s expression doesn’t shift to pity. Thank every god for that.
“I know what it’s like.” Her voice is soft but steady. “Having something overwhelming in your head. Something that wants to own you. When Drayke and I first—“ She stops, starts again. “The claiming bond was intense at first. I could feel him everywhere. Every thought, every emotion. It took weeks to learn how to filter.”
“This isn’t a claiming bond. This is a leash.”
“Yes.” No sugarcoating. No false comfort. “But you’re not alone in it. That’s the difference. Valdris thinks she owns you, but she’s wrong. You have people who will fight for you. Who will stand beside you while you learn to shut her out.”
“How? How do I shut out a creature like that?”
“The same way you survived everything else.” Selene takes my hand—the one without the brand. “One moment at a time. One breath at a time. With help, when you can accept it.”
The door opens again.
Rurik.
He looks like hell—shadows under his eyes, jaw shadowed with stubble he hasn’t bothered to shave, red hair more chaotic than usual. His shirt is half-untucked, sleeves shoved up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. But his gaze finds mine immediately, those bright eyes locking onto me with an intensity that makes heat bloom beneath my skin.
“Auren. Selene.” He nods at them both, already moving toward me. His stride is loose, predatory without meaning to be. The way he carries himself—all that coiled energy barely contained—shouldn’t make my mouth go dry. Not now. Not when I have far more pressing concerns.
It does anyway.
“How is she?” he asks.
“Right here,” I say flatly. “Capable of answering questions about my own condition.”
His mouth twitches. Just barely. “How are you?”
“I have a primordial dragon queen invading my thoughts and a brand on my wrist that flares every time she’s paying attention.” I meet his stare. “So. Not great.”
“Yeah.” He stops at the foot of the bed, hands shoved in his pockets like he doesn’t trust what they’ll do if he lets them loose. “I figured.”
Silence stretches between us. Auren and Selene exchange a look I don’t quite catch, and then Selene is standing, tugging Auren toward the door.
“We’ll give you two a minute. Aisling, eat something. Rurik, don’t hover.”
“I don’t hover.”
“You hover like a dragon over treasure.” The door closes behind them.
We’re alone.
RURIK
She looks fragile in a way that has nothing to do with weakness.
Pale skin against the stark white of the infirmary sheets. Dark circles beneath green eyes that are too bright, too alert—the hypervigilance of someone waiting for the next blow. The brand on her wrist glows faintly in the low light, a constant reminder of what I failed to prevent.
