Hours later,when the celebrations have faded and the fortress has grown quiet, I go looking for Zyphon.
He’s not in his chambers. Not in the war room, where Auren is already plotting next steps. Not in the training yards or the library or any of the usual places a brooding dragon might lurk.
But I know where he is. I’ve always known, somehow. The same instinct that makes my fire reach for his shadows, that makes my heart beat faster when he’s near.
The hidden garden.
I find the passage behind the tapestry in his quarters, follow the narrow corridor until it opens into moonlight and flowers. The garden is even more beautiful at night—moonflowers glowing silver, fire lilies flickering with inner light, the fountain catching starlight and holding it like liquid diamonds.
This place. This impossible, heartbreaking place. He built it for me. Maintained it for centuries while I was dead. Tended these flowers because he couldn’t bear to let go of the woman who loved them.
Zyphon kneels among the roses, his back to me, his shadows flickering unstably around him. He looks broken. Diminished. Like a man who’s won a war and isn’t sure he deserved to survive it.
“I killed your brother.” His voice is raw, rough. He doesn’t turn around. “I couldn’t save you. I’ve carried your death, and now you’re alive, and I don’t—“ His voice breaks. “I don’t know how to stop being the monster who failed you.”
I cross to him. Kneel beside him in the soft earth, careless of my clothes, my wounds, anything except the pain radiating from him. The moonflowers lean toward us, as if they too want to comfort him.
“Look at me.”
He shakes his head. “Nasyra?—“
“Look at me.” I take his face in my hands—the same hands that tried to kill him weeks ago, the same hands that held him while we made love, the same hands that saved his life today. I turn his head until he has no choice but to meet my gaze.
His eyes are wet. The man who’s spent years as the Brotherhood’s executioner, the dragon who terrifies enemies into surrender, is crying in a garden.
Something in my chest cracks open at the sight. This is what I do to him. This is what loving me costs.
And this is what I want to spend the rest of my life making up for.
“You didn’t fail me.” I hold his gaze, willing him to believe. “Balroth failed me. The Shadow Clan failed me. You came for me. You fought to reach me. You killed the man who betrayed me and carried the guilt, even though it was never yours to carry.”
“I was too late?—“
“You were too late to save my body. But you kept my memory alive.” I gesture at the garden around us. “You kept these flowers blooming. You kept hoping, even when hope seemed impossible. That’s not failure. That’s love.”
“The curse?—“
“The curse was punishment for loving me. Not your crime—theirs. They wanted to destroy you for daring to love a Fire-Bringer as an equal. And you survived it.” My thumbs brush the tears from his cheeks. “You’re not a monster, Zyphon. You’re the man who loved me enough to tend a garden of flowers.”
“Nasyra...” His voice is barely a whisper.
“I’m here.” I lean forward and press my lips to his forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Ever again.”
“Claim me.”
The words fall from my lips before I consciously choose them. But once they’re spoken, I know they’re right. This is what I want. What we both need.
“Let me be what anchors you. What transforms you. What you should have had centuries ago.”
Zyphon stares at me, something raw and desperate flickering in his gaze. “Nasyra, claiming is permanent. Once it’s done?—“
“I know what it is.” I pull him closer, pressing my forehead to his. “I’ve seen Drayke with Selene. Rurik with Aisling. I know what claiming means—the marks, the bond, the permanence.” My fire flickers at my fingertips, reaching for his shadows. “I want it. I want you. Forever.”
“Forever is a long time.”
“I’ve already been dead. I think I can handle forever.”
Something breaks in his expression. The last wall, the final defense, the centuries of believing he didn’t deserve happiness crumbling away.
