Ronan’s brow lifted smoothly. “Oh, this is rich.” Leaning forward, his grin turned amused, a spark he didn’t bother to smother. “Have you finally burned off your collar, commander?”
“I am leashed to the throne, yes.” Callum settled back, arrogance softening any margin. “But don’t mistake leash for loyalty. Our Order only needs one thing.” A beat. “Distract the king long enough to delay his hunt for Nyctom’s heir.”
Ronan’s frown cut in hard, a vein ticking sharp against his neck. “You want dragons unleashed?”
Even speaking the words tasted wrong. There wasn’t a soul in Selvarra who didn’t fear the dragons. Not after what had happened when the world split.
Callum nodded once. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Elysian pushed from the wall, blade loose in his grip as he drifted to Ronan’s side.
Callum swallowed. “If dragons cross into our borders, Obrann’s eyes will turn there.”
On you, prince.The truth Callum didn’t have the spine to say out loud.
It wasn’t unknown that Obrann was yearning after more power. Obsessed with the stones, obsessed with finding the heir he’d been hunting for years.
But there were whispers, faded scraps of rumor, that that heir carried more. Something ancient.
Something Obrann meant to claim before they even knew how to wield it.
The candelabra in the corner of the room sputtered, its flame flaring gold, then bleeding into an eerie cerulean. Heat warped the air, sweat sliding down the nape of Ronan’s neck, beneath his leathers. Even Elysian’s temple shone with it.
“Explain,” Ronan demanded. “Why would I risk my dragons, myfamily, foryou. For this?”His finger sliced toward Callum. “By your own words, you’re a traitor. Give me one reason I shouldn’t gut you where you stand?”
Callum shot upright, fists slamming the table, map crumpling beneath the blow. His golden irises brightened, the fire behind them spilling unrestrained.
“I didn’t come for your opinion—”
“No.” The muscles in Ronan’s forearm went taut beneath the ink. “You came for my power.”
Flames erupted from Callum’s knuckles, swallowing his hands until they were nothing but blazing spires. “And by the same fate, aren’tyoualready a traitor, dragon heir?”
The words hung, more dangerous than any sword drawn. Elysian’s lips peeled back, canines flashing, pupils thinned and honed.
“Empty threats,” he snarled, spit flecking the air.
Ronan lifted a hand, holding him back. “But not empty truth.”
Callum pulled back, the flare dulling to flesh, revealing the two scorched handprints seared into the grain of the table. With deliberate calm, he smoothed his jacket, every line, every wrinkle, pressed into place.
“You demand reason, fine. I have something you want. The only question is whether you’ve the courage to claim it.”
Ronan sighed, a long, smoke-laced and irritated exhale. “Doesn’t everyone these days.”
He dragged two fingers down the bridge of his nose, then tapped the table once. Twice. The silence stretched, he let it stretch further. Letting the weight of it decide for him.
So, when his voice came, it was final. “No.”
Callum’s head snapped, eyes narrowing, gold catching a dangerous glint. “No?”
Ronan’s jaw shifted once before he spoke. “If you enjoy the sound of your own begging, I can carve the word into your bones as well.”
Callum pivoted sharply, shoulders taut, muttering under his breath that sounded like dust breaking apart. His chest rose and fell once, twice, three times, before he faced them again.
“You refuse without even hearing what I have to offer?”
