“Then I’m coming with you.”
“Rurik—“
“Non-negotiable.” I match her stubborn stance with my own. “You want to walk through a death trap? Fine. But you’re not doing it alone.”
“The channels are too narrow for dragons to shift. You’d be fighting in human form the entire time.”
“Then I’ll fight in human form.” I grin—the sharp, reckless one that makes Auren twitch. “I’ve been doing it for a few centuries. I’m pretty good at it.”
She stares at me. Searching for something in my expression. Whatever she finds makes her shoulders drop a fraction.
“You’re impossible.”
“You betcha.” I reach out, brush a strand of ash-gray hair from her cheek. “I’m starting to think it’s a compliment.”
“It’s not.”
“Liar.”
Drayke clears his throat. “If you two are finished...”
The plan comes together fasterthan I expected.
Drayke will lead the main assault—thirty dragons hitting Valdris’s defenses from the air while Zyphon’s shadows sow chaos from the ground. Auren coordinates the tactical strike, targeting the ward anchors that keep the mountain’s defenses active.
And Aisling, Selene, and I go through the tunnels.
“You’re sure about this?” Selene asks as we gear up in the armory. She’s strapping on light armor—leather reinforced with dragon scale, designed for mobility rather than heavy combat. “The three of us against whatever she’s got guarding those channels?”
“I’m sure.” Aisling’s voice is steady, but her hands tremble slightly as she checks her weapons. A knife at her hip. Another strapped to her thigh. Fire in her blood. “Niamh’s down there. I’m getting her out.”
“And if Valdris is waiting?”
Aisling’s jaw sets. “Then I’ll finally get to show her what happens when you use someone I love as bait.”
I watch her—this controlled, organized woman who’s learned to channel chaos into purpose—and feel something shift in my chest. Something that’s been building for weeks, waiting for the right moment to name itself.
Mine,my dragon rumbles. She’s ours. Protect her. Claim her. Keep her.
Not yet,I tell it.She’s not ready.
But soon. Gods help us both, it has to be soon.
“Rurik.” Auren appears at my elbow, voice pitched low enough that the women can’t hear. “A word.”
I follow him to the armory’s far corner. His expression is carved from ice, but his eyes hold something that might be concern.
“If this goes wrong?—“
“It won’t.”
“If itdoes.” He grips my arm. Hard. “Get her out. Leave the cousin if you have to, but get your mate out alive. The Brotherhood needs Fire-Bringers. And you...” His grip tightens. “You need her.”
“She’s not my mate.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence.” Auren releases me. “I’ve watched you chase women for three centuries. This is different. She’s different. And if you lose her because you were too stubborn to admit what she is to you...”
He doesn’t finish. Doesn’t need to.
