You were not poisoned, fangs.
We’renotgoing with that pet name,I snapped back.
Very well.The sweep of amusement brushed along my bond like a hand cupping my jaw.My little viperling.
No.
The corner of Ronan’s mouth twitched.
So why was no one eating?
I shook my head to Aero, forcing composure into my voice. “We haven’t had a chance to talk since we arrived.”
Aelora’s thin inhale shattered the moment. She collapsed her arms, the picture of boredom, fingers pretending to fuss with nails polished to perfection. “Two things he’s kept from you. Our betrothal. And the fact you’re dragging war to our doorstep.”
Joy lit her face like a torch. Joy at my expense. It took everything in me not to reach across the table and tear the sound from her throat.
Ronan’s face didn’t change from stone. But I saw it, the way the weight slid onto his shoulders, leaden as chains.
“Is that true?” I prayed for him to say no. I could die for our homes. Gladly. But I couldn’t be the reason it all collapsed back into war.
He exhaled, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Obrann did declare war.” A torturous pause. “Though it wasn’t solely for you.”
For me?
“He wants Elva as well.” He said it carefully, as though the sound alone might rip me open.
No. Gods, no. My mind stuttered, caught in the wrong rhythm.He wants me and Elva?
“In exchange for what?”
Ronan hesitated. I felt it in my bones, in the smoke curling tighter around my arms. He didn’t want to say it. But he forced the words out anyway. “I keep my heirloom. And he keeps his forces from Sahfyre.”
War.
Obrann had declared fucking war. And Reve, he had run straight back to him, tongue dripping with our secrets, with the truth that Ronan stood at our side.
They knew they couldn’t win the old way. Not with Ryuu against them. Not with its heir on our side. But Ryuu wasn’t against them. Just Ronan. The dragon kingdom had more reason to bend to Obrann than waste blood on rebels. And Obrann had offered Ronan the one thing he believed mattered—power.
Except Ronan didn’t hunger for crowns. He craved freedom. And even that was a lie, because freedom for him meant a noose if it endangered his kingdom.
A predatory snap of anger crept through me, blistering, unbearable. My body was a fuse about to blow. I needed out. Out of this room, out of these suffocating walls, out of the burdened air that said everything we didn’t.
“Honestly, Ronan—” Aelora began, voice dripping false sweetness.
Gods help her if she finishes that sentence.
“A king would not make such poor judgments when it came to his kingdom.” Her lashes lowered, before she shot her stare at me. “Never mind who shares his bed.”
I knew it. She had a death wish.
Ronan remained poised as he turned his head only slightly, dragon-flame wavering across the harsh lines of his face. “Enough.”
But Aelora was not finished.
“Look at her!” Her hands flung wide, sheer fabric sliding too high. “She’s a mess. A poor excuse—” Her eyes snagged then on my arm. Then to Ronan’s. To the twin marks etched into us. Our bond. My lifeline. Her lips parted. “You cannot be serious…what in the damnation is that?”
“He save—”
