Behind me, the temperature seems to increase several degrees as the familiar voice slices through the night air. “That is enough.”
I catch Dayn's expression in my peripheral vision—those amber eyes narrowed, his mouth a hard line that screams:I'm running out of patience for these rescue missions, Salem.
Relief floods through me for one heartbeat before reality crashes back. This isn't salvation—it's complications multiplied. One dragon I might handle; now I face the judgment of an entire city that's been waiting for an excuse to execute me.
“Lord Daynthazar!” Rogon's voice cracks like thin ice. “You—You attacked me!”
“When you presumed to pass sentence without authority, you left me no alternative,” Dayn snaps back.
I twist further in his direction and immediately wish I hadn't. He stands flanked by Lord Bemmar himself, the dragon king's mouth compressed into an expression of fury as he surveys me. Beside them, Anees observes in calculating silence, missing nothing.
Spectators spill into the street, drawn by Rogon's destruction and the promise of public drama. Their whispers slither through the crowd: “Salem,” “darkblood,” “thief?”
Rogon straightens his uniform, playing to his audience.
“This darkblood infiltrated the Repository to steal sacred artifacts,” he says, voice pitched to carry. “My guards witnessed everything.”
A guard with a fresh bruise blooming on his jaw steps forward. “Confirmed, my lord. Colonel Rogon personally apprehended her.”
“Regardless,” Anees cuts in with diplomatic precision, “execution requires proper judicial proceedings.” His eyes narrow as they find mine. “What exactly were you after?”
“The Salem disc,” Dayn answers before I can speak.
Of course he'd deduce that. I struggle to rise, to defend myself, but my muscles still struggle.Damn it. Quite the takedown, colonel.
Dayn steps between us, his voice cutting through the tension. “Colonel Rogon, no one lays a hand on Esme Salem.”
Lord Bemmar's lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Indeed. She'll be properly imprisoned before her execution following trial.”
My ribs throb with each labored breath. “I deserve to defend myself?—”
“There will be no trial,” Dayn interrupts, his amber eyes locked on mine. “Because we are to be mated.”
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water.
The proclamation hangs in the air. No one moves. The guards exchange bewildered glances while Colonel Rogon's mouth falls open.
Lord Bemmar's face drains of color. “You are WHAT?”
“To be mated.” Dayn advances toward me, each deliberate step punctuating his words. “By ancient law, my future consort is to be granted clemency for non-violent offenses. Consider the Salem buckle a wedding present.”
“No. Wait. You—” I sputter, my pain-fogged brain short-circuiting.
His eyes flash me a glare that could freeze hellfire:You asked for this, you fool.
11
BRYNN
It's been five days, seven hours, and approximately twenty-three minutes since a freaking dragon—an actual, scales-and-fire, nightmare-inducing dragon—snatched my sister right out of Heathborne. Not the metaphorical kind from my Mythical Beasts and Where They Hide textbook, but a massive obsidian monstrosity with wings that blotted out the moon. I've reread every dragonology text in the Darkbirch library twice. None of them prepared me for the smell of sulfur that still clings to my clothes or the way my hands haven't stopped shaking.
“He's going to get better,” Mom says, her voice too steady.
We're sitting beside what I refuse to call Jax's grave. “Deep sleep chamber” is the technical term, though I've been calling it his “dirt nap” in my notes. Below us, my brother lies wrapped in ancestral spirits, still healing from whatever arcane bullshit those Heathborne assholes hit him with. It’s taking much longer than any of us hoped for.
“Spectacular timing,” I mutter, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve. “Jax is practically Esme's twin in everything but birth order. He'd have tracked her in half the time it'll take Corvin's team. And now he's?—”
“Alive,” Mom cuts in, her frown deepeningthe lines around her mouth. “Like Esme. If she'd passed, her spirit would've returned home. She's too stubborn for anything else.”
