The weight of those words settles in the room. Not just assassination attempts or random violence—a coordinated effort to bring down the Iron Warlord from within his own fortress.
“I’ve posted Korvin and Malthak outside,” Hadrun continues. “Both are absolutely loyal—I’d stake my life on them. They’ve served with us since the Bone March campaigns, bled beside us in a dozen battles.”
“Youarestaking your life on them.” Vlorn’s burning gaze finds mine across the room, and something passes between us. Not a magical connection, but understanding. Awareness. “All our lives.”
I’m not just a captive anymore. I’m a target in a war I don’t understand, protected by people I don’t fully trust, dependent on a man who owns me but might be the only thing standing between me and death.
But I’m also... important. Valuable enough that someone wants me dead. Central enough to this conflict that my assassination was worth elaborate planning and serious risk.
Why?
“Get some rest,” Vlorn tells Hadrun, dismissing him with a nod. “Tomorrow, we start interrogations. Anyone with access tothe girl’s corridor, anyone who knew her location, anyone who’s shown unusual interest in the tribute arrangements.”
“What about the search for the missing guards?”
“Expand it beyond the fortress. Check the villages, the patrol routes, anywhere they might have gone to ground.” Vlorn’s expression hardens. “And put a bounty on their heads. Someone will talk for enough gold.”
Hadrun nods and leaves, closing the door behind him with a solid thunk.
And then we’re alone.
The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken tension. The fire crackles in the hearth, sending shadows dancing across the walls. Wind howls outside the windows, carrying the scent of coming snow.
I’m hyperaware of his presence in the space. The way he fills it just by existing. The controlled power in every movement, even when he’s simply standing still. The heat radiating from his body, warming the air around him.
“You should sleep,” he says finally, voice gentler than I expected.
“I’m fine here.” I curl deeper into the chair, pulling one of the smaller wolf pelts over my legs. It’s incredibly soft and warmer than anything I’ve ever touched. The fur is thick enough that my fingers disappear into it, silver and black hairs that catch the firelight. “This is comfortable enough.”
He studies me for a moment, head tilted slightly. “The bed is larger. Softer.”
“I’m not sleeping in your bed.”
“Why not?”
The question catches me off guard. I expected argument, commands, maybe threats. Not this quiet curiosity.
“Because...” I struggle for words that don’t reveal too much. Don’t expose the fear underneath the defiance. “Because I won’t give you that satisfaction.”
“What satisfaction?”
“Having me exactly where you want me. Compliant. Grateful. Broken down until I’m just another possession.” I meet his gaze directly, refusing to look away despite the intensity of those amber eyes. “I won’t make this easy for you.”
Something shifts in his expression. The predator mask slips for just a moment, revealing something almost hurt. Confused.
“I don’t want you broken,” he says quietly, and there’s a sincerity in his voice that catches me completely off guard.
“Then what do you want?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. Just stares at me with those unblinking amber eyes, as if he’s trying to figure that out himself. As if the question has layers he hasn’t considered before.
“To keep you breathing,” he says finally. “The rest we’ll figure out.”
The admission hangs between us. Less poetry than his earlier words, more honest. More him.
Before I can respond, he turns away and begins removing his armor. Piece by piece—gauntlets first, then bracers, the heavy shoulder guards. Each item is set aside with careful precision, arranged on a wooden stand designed for the purpose.
I try not to watch. Try not to notice the way the firelight plays across his scarred skin as he strips down to a simple linen shirt and leather pants. Try not to think how my awareness of him sharpens despite my best efforts.
