It doesn’t stay silent for long.
FOUR
TAMSIN
Iwatch Auren’s retreating form until he disappears around the corner of the infirmary, his stride as precise and controlled as everything else about him.
If that’s what you need to tell yourself.
I shouldn’t have said it. Shouldn’t have pushed at the cracks in his armor when he’s already looking for reasons to distrust me. But something about his insistence that catching me was just following orders—something about the obvious lie of it—made the words slip out before I could stop them.
He caught me. Carried me. Stayed with me through the night to ensure I didn’t burn the infirmary down. Whatever hatred he carries for my bloodline, his actions tell a different story than his words.
I don’t know what to do with that.
The afternoon sun has started its descent toward the mountains, painting the garden in shades of amber and gold. I should go inside. Rest, like Aisling ordered. Prepare for whatever dawn brings.
Instead, I stay on the stone bench and let myself breathe.
Three days of running. Of hiding and starving and not letting myself stop because stopping meant dying. And now I’m here,in a fortress full of dragons who should want me dead, and I’ve been told I can stay.
The relief should be overwhelming. Instead, it feels distant. Muted. Like my body hasn’t caught up to the reality that I might actually live.
“You look like someone told you the execution’s been postponed but not cancelled.”
I turn to find Selene approaching through the garden archway, her chestnut hair catching the late light. She moves with an easy confidence that speaks to months of belonging here—months of making this fortress her home.
“Is that not the situation?”
“Oh, absolutely.” She settles onto the bench beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. “But the trick is to pretend you don’t notice. Really throws them off.”
The casualness catches me off guard. In Valdoria, no one sat this close to a princess without invitation. But Selene treats the space between us like it doesn’t exist—or like it shouldn’t.
“You survived the ice dragon treatment,” she continues, stretching her legs out and crossing them at the ankle. “How many restrictions? I’m guessing at least two.”
“Four. Possibly five. I lost count.”
“Amateur numbers. When I first arrived, he managed seven in a single conversation.” Her smile widens. “Granted, I didn’t have your particular complications. Just the crime of being the first Fire-Bringer found in decades and therefore automatically a variable he couldn’t predict.”
“A variable?”
“That’s how he thinks. Patterns and probabilities. Threats and opportunities. Everything fits into some larger calculation.” She shrugs. “It’s unsettling until you realize he’s usually right. The man sees seventeen moves ahead while the rest of us are still figuring out the board.”
“How did you end up here?”
“Inherited my grandmother’s cabin in the middle of nowhere. Turns out ‘middle of nowhere’ was actually ‘dragon territory,’ and my grandmother had been hiding her Fire-Bringer bloodline for fifty years.” She shrugs like this is a perfectly normal sentence. “Drayke found me before anyone less friendly could. Brought me here for training and protection. Auren spent the first month trying to figure out what angle I was playing.”
“Were you playing an angle?”
“I didn’t even know the game existed.” Her gray gaze finds mine, and the humor softens into something more genuine. “Just unlucky enough to stumble into a world I didn’t know existed and stubborn enough to survive it. Sound familiar?”
More than I want to admit.
“How long before he stopped treating you as a threat?”
“Define ‘stopped.’” She laughs at my expression. “I’m mostly joking. He adjusted eventually—and by ‘adjusted’ I mean he recalculated my probability of betrayal and decided I was more useful as an ally. That’s practically a declaration of love by Auren standards.”
“Encouraging.”
