I didn’t know what stung more, that Callum had planned without me despite our promises. That we’d once sworn to be a team. That we’d protect that bond above all. Or, that somehow a part of me that was never supposed to die already had. A pieceCallumhimself had given me. A piece now lost, reminding me of my own fate.
“Verena.” His voice darkened to caution.
“What?” I snapped.
His hands lifted, palms open in surrender.“Your fangs…”
He didn’t need to say it:Calm down before you lose control.
My fingers flew to my mouth, feeling the sharp length of them. I hadn’t even realized they’d slid free. “Sorry, I—”
“You’re angry,”he said gently.“And rightfully so.” He summoned flame into his palm, throwing it over the remaining broken glass until it all broke into powder.“But we all have our jobs in this.”
I ran my fingers up the underside of my braid, loosening the strands that clawed at my scalp. The tension screamed behind my eyes, a migraine already impending.
“Allying with the dragons is not a good idea.”My fangs unwillingly slipped back to canines as I exhaled. “You gave themonesimple instruction, and they immediately did the opposite. What are you thinking?” I returned to the table, laying the picture down carefully.
“I’m thinking,” he exhaled, swiping a mug from the counter and joining me, “we need what the king fears.” When his eyes met mine, there was nothing soft left. “And that…is Prince Ronan.”
His name was a serrated edge dragging down my spine, every syllable a wound reopening.
“Thatprince,”the word caught on my tongue like spoiled wine, “is nothing but a heartless creature. Awretch who worships only his own freedom. He won’t even claim the throne meant for him.” I braced my chin on my knuckles, elbows digging into the oak, eyes narrowing with quietcruelty.“No one has walked Ryuu’s soil since the kingdoms crumbled, Callum. Haven’t you ever wondered why?”My tongue pressed against my teeth, a sharp click in the silence.“No, you don’t need to wonder. You already know.”
His identity wasn’t engraved into banners or written in ledgers. It lived in murmurs. In the fear that dripped down tavern walls when his name was spoken. All anyone truly knew was the aftermath he left behind.
They said he carried no soul, no emotion. Only appetite.
And still, when his breath brushed mine, I almost let myself believe the rumors were wrong. That maybe a trace of life pulsed beneath all those scales.
A damn fool is all I was.
And now, I didn’t crave his demise—that would be too merciful—I craved his unraveling. Ronan the Wraith would kneel. He would crawl. And when the knife slid through the hollow where his heart should have been, I would twist, until even the smoke screamed.
Callum used a flame to swirl the contents of the mug, unfazed. “He didn’t strike me as all that terrible.”
I crossed my arms. “Did Gemma slip you some special brew, or are you suddenly incapable of righteous fury?”
He didn’t look up, only kicked his boots on top of the table. “You’re assuming I need fury to think.”
“I’m assuming you need something,” I shot back. “You’re sitting there sipping tea like you’re pondering cloud shapes.”
The next sip he took dragged long, then he exhaled. “It’s chamomile.”
My hands dragged down my face. “Maybe you’ve been hexed.” I leaned over the table until he finally met my stare. “Normally, you’d have a battle plan, a death wish, and ten backup strategies by now.”
“Maybe,” he muttered, “I’m saving them for later.”
A groan tore from me, fingers pressing hard into my temples.“Fine. When he chars you into ash, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“He won’t.” He rose, his chair sliding back with no sound at all.“Because I have something he wants more than freedom.”
Well,thathad my attention locked to him as he crossed back to the window, muscles flexing as he shifted the desk aside with ease. He knelt, prying up a loose board set into the floor.
A family habit, this keeping of secrets underfoot.
“So, the distraction worked?” I asked.
Nodding once, he lifted an object, wrapped in layers of silk, from the dark. He carried it reverently, hands cradling each end as if the weight itself might bite him. Carefully, he set it between us, fingers peeling back the fabric.
