Another stab of pain. I press a palm to my temple.
“Stop calling me Fire,” I choke, the fissure in my voice a fault line. “That’s not—”
The surge of pain crests, and I fold into myself. “It hurts,” I whisper. “I want to break something. I want to feel nothing. I don’t know how to stop it.”
He steps closer, hands open, careful. “There’s something I can do. But you won’t like it.”
“Do it,” I say. “Please.”
He doesn’t hesitate. His mouth finds mine.
It’s not gentle, but neither is it cruel. It’s a tether thrown into a storm, a lifeline to something that isn’t hate.
His hands cradle my face; his thumbs catch tears I didn’t feel fall. I grip his forearms like rope and let the fury drain into pressure and breath. The edges of my vision blur, but the ache inside loosens. The world climbs down from that bright, terrible point.
When he pulls back, I’m shaking for a different reason.
“I wanted to do it,” I whisper. “Iwantedto.” The truth tastes like iron.
“I know, love.” His gaze is steady. “But you didn’t.”
“Will it happen again?”
He doesn’t look away. His palm cups my jaw; his forehead rests against mine. “I won’t let this place take you,” he breathes. “Not while I still breathe.”
For a moment, neither of us does.
Then I lean into him, just enough. I’m still me. I can choose that. But stars, it scares me how close the other thing felt.
And worse yet, in that moment, I didn’t want to come back.
Evening softens the halls when I slip back to the girls’ quarters. I expect silence, or maybe Seraphina sharpening a blade in the corner like a promise.
Instead, Mariel perches on a chair, rummaging through a box of salves. Cassy is curled in the window seat, small and still. Vivian is away—most likely fetching tea and bread on Mae’s orders.
“You’re either very brave,” Mariel says without looking up, “or very foolish.”
“Both,” I say quietly, stepping in.
She glances at the cut on my cheek. “Lucky, too. Hold still.” She dabs on something that stings. “Unless you want a new scar.”
“Too late.”
She smirks. “Don’t pretend you didn’t see it.”
“See what?”
“The way he looked.” She sits back. “Right after you nearly carved Seraphina, he looked like he wanted to finish the job for you.”
“He’s just trying to help keep us alive,” I say, tucking hair behind my ear.
“Mmhmm. And dragons are just overgrown lizards.”
Cassy doesn’t move. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, her gaze fixed on the narrow window. Her lips move like a desperate prayer.
“The moon weeps,” she whispers. “The beast stirs… Blood feeds the root…”
Mariel and I exchange a worried look.
