“Zyphon.” A voice, deep and commanding, draws my attention to the courtyard ahead.
The dragon who steps forward is everything I expected and nothing like it. Tall—taller than Zyphon—with broad shoulders and golden hair that catches the fading light. His presence fillsthe space, not through intimidation but through sheer authority. Power worn so naturally it’s become invisible.
Drayke. The Guardian King. The one who’d fought beside Zyphon during my rescue, bronze scales blazing against the darkness.
I expected cruelty in his face. Expected the cold calculation I saw in Lakhu, the predatory interest of a dragon assessing prey. Instead, I find gravity. Concern. Something that might even be compassion.
“You made it.” He clasps Zyphon’s forearm in greeting, a warrior’s acknowledgment. “No trouble on the road?”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
Drayke’s attention shifts to me. Assessing, but not threatening. “Hello, Nasyra.”
I lift my chin, refusing to be cowed. “And you must be the dragon king I’ve been hearing about.”
“Drayke.” A hint of something—amusement?—flickers in his expression. “The title is mostly grandiose. And you’re a guest here, not a prisoner.”
“Lakhu said the same thing.” The words come out sharper than I intend. “Forgive me if I’m skeptical.”
“You should be.” No offense taken. “Trust is earned, not claimed. You’ll have time to decide what we deserve.”
“Oh good,you didn’t die on the way here.”
A woman strides across the courtyard with purpose in every step. Wild chestnut hair frames a face that’s more interesting than beautiful—sharp features, gray eyes that miss nothing. And on her chest, visible above the neckline of her shirt?—
A mark. Flame patterns spreading across her skin, clearly not natural, clearly not hidden.
A claiming mark. Worn without shame.
“Selene,” Drayke says, his voice carrying a warmth that wasn’t there a moment ago. “I was just about to?—“
“Send someone to fetch me like I’m a servant? Please.” She waves him off without looking at him, her attention fixed on me. “Three days of walking through Shadow territory with Zyphon as company. You poor thing. Did he brood at you the entire time, or just most of it?”
I blink. Of everything I expected, this wasn’t it.
“He... wasn’t that bad.” The defense surprises me as much as her question.
“Not that bad. High praise.” Selene shoots Zyphon a look. “She’s being generous. Accept it gracefully.”
“I always accept grace gracefully,” he says, completely deadpan.
“See, that right there? That’s the problem. No one can tell if you’re joking.” Selene turns back to me, her expression shifting to something warmer. “Fire-Bringer to Fire-Bringer—you look like you haven’t eaten properly in a week, slept in longer, and you’re approximately thirty seconds from either passing out or setting something on fire. Am I close?”
“Uncomfortably.”
“Thought so.” She hooks her arm through mine before I can protest, steering me toward the fortress entrance. “Let’s fix at least two of those problems. The cook made enough food to feed an army, which is good because Rurik eats like one. I’ve already threatened him with bodily harm if he doesn’t save you a plate.”
“I—“ I try to pull back, but she’s stronger than she looks. Or I’m weaker than I thought. “I don’t need?—“
“Everyone needs food. And a bath. And probably a stiff drink, honestly, but we’ll start with the basics.” She glances at mesideways, and beneath the brisk efficiency, I see something else. Understanding. “I know this is overwhelming. I know you don’t trust any of us. That’s fine. You don’t have to trust us to eat our food and use our hot water.”
“That’s... practical.”
“I’m a practical person.” Her smile sharpens with humor. “I also set my mate’s cloak on fire when he annoys me, so make of that what you will.”
Behind us, I hear Drayke sigh. “That was one time, and I said I was sorry.”
“You were hovering. There were consequences.” Selene doesn’t look back. “Keep up, dragon king. If you want to debrief your brother, you can do it while walking.”
