Page 31 of Ash and Burn

"I understand."

Those two words, delivered without judgment or pressure, nearly undid her completely. When was the last time someone had simply accepted her boundaries without demanding justification?

The realization that she was becoming far too attached to this man, to this feeling of being understood and protected, hit her like a freight train. She'd spent three years building a life that kept her safe from exactly this kind of emotional vulnerability. Two days with Calix, and those walls were crumbling faster than she could rebuild them.

"I'm getting tired," she said abruptly, pushing back from the island with movements that felt wooden and unnatural. "I should head to my room."

Disappointment flashed across his features so quickly she might have imagined it. "Of course. You've had a long day."

The gentleness in his voice made her chest ache with longing she couldn't afford to feel. She needed distance, needed time to rebuild her defenses before she did something catastrophically stupid like admitting how much she wanted to stay, wanted to learn more about him, wanted him to know more about her.

"Thank you for dinner," she managed, already backing toward the kitchen entrance. "And for... everything today."

"Arvid—"

She fled before he could finish the sentence, before the concern in his voice could weaken her resolve any further. Her feet carried her through corridors and upstairs with desperate efficiency, putting as much physical distance as possible between herself and the man who was systematically destroying every defense she'd spent years perfecting.

Only when her guest suite door closed behind her did she allow herself to breathe, leaning against the solid wood as if it could somehow protect her from the truth she was no longer able to deny.

She was falling for Calix Silvanus, and that terrified her more than any rogue dragon attack ever could.

TWELVE

CALIX

The morning light from the twin suns filtered through the large windows of Ashspire's kitchen, painting the pyrestone countertops in shades of amber and gold. Calix had been awake for hours, his restless energy finding purpose in the familiar ritual of food preparation. The scent of brewing coffee filled the air as he moved with deliberate efficiency between the stove and the center island where he'd shared dinner with Arvid the night before.

The memory of her sitting beside him, their easy conversation flowing like wine, sent heat spiraling through his chest. The way she'd looked when she asked about fated mates—curious, engaged, then suddenly terrified when he'd explained the permanence of the bond. Her eyes had gone wide with something that looked suspiciously like panic when he'd mentioned being "bound together forever."

His dragon stirred restlessly, demanding he claim what was rightfully theirs. But Calix had learned patience through fifteen years of leadership, and he knew pushing Arvid now would only drive her away. The mate bond thrummed between them whether she understood it or not, but revealing that truth while she was clearly struggling with the concept of permanent attachment would be catastrophic.

She ran from you again last night, his dragon reminded him unhelpfully.

Calix cracked eggs into a heated pan with more force than necessary. He'd spent the sleepless hours replaying their conversation, analyzing every word and expression for clues about what had triggered her sudden retreat. When she'd mentioned her dishonorable discharge, something had shifted in her demeanor—walls slamming up so fast he'd nearly felt the impact. Whatever had happened during her military service had left deep scars, ones that made her wary of authority and commitment in equal measure.

The irony wasn't lost on him. He was both—the ultimate authority figure expecting unquestioning obedience from his people, and a man falling so hard for his fated mate that the thought of losing her made his chest tighten with panic.

Steam rose from the eggs as he scrambled them with practiced movements, his mind wandering to the vulnerability he'd shown last night. When she'd asked about his past, something about her steady attention had unlocked words he'd never spoken aloud. The pain of losing his father and brother within months of each other. The political necessity of his arrangement with Sarah. The betrayal that had taught him trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.

But Arvid hadn't offered empty sympathy or tried to minimize his experiences. She'd simply listened with those warm brown eyes that seemed to see straight through his carefully maintained armor to the man beneath. No one had ever done that before—seen him as just Calix rather than the king who carried everyone on his shoulders.

His dragon rumbled fondly at the memory, recognizing the significance of that connection. Arvid understood him in ways no one else ever had or could.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. Calix quickly plated the eggs alongside sliced fruit and fresh bread, his pulse quickening as Arvid's scent—lilies and rain—grew stronger. He'd made enough food for a small army, driven by memories of her hollow cheeks yesterday and the way she'd practically devoured their dinner.

She appeared in the kitchen doorway dressed in practical dark slacks and a crisp white blouse that somehow made her look both professional and devastatingly beautiful. Her long hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail that exposed the elegant line of her neck, and Calix had to grip the counter to keep from crossing the room and burying his face against that tempting curve.

"You didn't have to do this," she said, her gaze taking in the spread of food with something that might've been surprise.

"I figured we'd be spending most of the day in the lab," Calix replied, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "You need proper nourishment if you're going to solve this outbreak."

Her eyebrows rose slightly. "I didn't think you'd be spending the whole day with me. I assumed you'd just be my escort between locations."

Heat crept up Calix's neck as he realized how presumptuous he'd sounded. But the thought of leaving her with Dorn and the other healers while he sat in his office reviewing reports felt impossible. Yesterday's attack had proven how dangerous Ashvorn could be for her, and his protective instincts were operating at maximum intensity.

More than that, he wanted to be near her. Wanted to watch her brilliant mind work through the puzzle of Ash Fever. Wanted to be useful to her in ways that went beyond royal authority and dragon strength.

"I thought I could help," he said, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that betrayed his uncertainty. "Provide insight about Ashvorn and its people. Give you a different perspective on things you might not see from a purely medical standpoint."