Page 6 of Echoes of Fire

Mine to guard. Mine to claim.

I stepped into the circle.

“It does now.”

The priestess’s claws gleamed wet with Orla’s blood. I counted three drops hitting the dais before my vision cleared enough to see details—the way my mate’s left wrist bent at a wrong angle, the charred edge of her journal’s cover peeking from beneath Karyseth’s scaled foot. My fire surged hotter.

“Thishumanscribbled our sacred glyphs,” Karyseth hissed, grinding the journal deeper into ash. The stench of burning parchment mixed with Orla’s coppery blood. “Stole secrets from the Forge Master’s own sanctum. The penalty is?—”

“Death by molten ore,” the crowd chanted, tails thumping stone in rhythm. Always eager for blood, these zealots. The less faithful Drakarn were smart enough to stay away. But the humans? They were too new here to know better.

Orla coughed, shoulders shaking. Not from fear—from rage. I knew that tremor. Had felt it in my own bones when Ignarath butchers took my sister. Her voice rasped raw but precise. “How could I?” She lifted her chin, blood smearing across that delicate human throat. “This is ridiculous.”

Laughter rippled through the warriors, harsh and guttural. Karyseth’s tail lashed, sending a burning brazier crashing tothe stones. Embers skittered toward Orla’s boots. “The Defiler speaks nonsense!”

I stepped closer. Heat radiated off me in visible waves now, making the nearest Drakarn stumble back. My focus narrowed to vital points—the warrior on Orla’s left, Krazath, had a weak grip, his thumb joint still swollen from last week’s sparring session. The one on her right favored his scarred leg, the old wound from the siege of Ignarath.

It would take nothing to end them now.

Then she looked at me.

Fuck.

Her pupils swallowed the irises—pain or terror, maybe both. But beneath the split lip and bruising, her gaze burned with the same stubborn fire that had let her remain standing after her starbound vehicle crashed on the fiery desert and all that came after that. My claws flexed. She’d nearly died. Would’ve, if I hadn’t?—

No. Not now.

Karyseth’s scowled. “This is our right, warrior. Leave it.”

The crowd parted as Darrokar emerged from the smoke, his human mate, Terra, a shadow at his side. The warlord’s obsidian scales glinted with cooling battle filth, his expression unreadable. News must have traveled fast for him to be here already. Farther back in the crowd, I spotted other council members, Mektar and Zarvash. I didn’t know if they’d followed the rumors or if they’d been there for the start of the ceremony.

Orla had no position, no hope of making these zealots see sense. Darrokar could claim her as a concubine, but he was so newly mated and devoted to his human that all would see past the ruse and challenge the claim here and now.

And, having seen his mate’s fire, I feared she might strip off his scales one by one for trying.

I met his gaze, trying to come up with some kind of plan that would save Orla. I could only think of one thing. It was all I had thought of for the past month, waiting for the moment to be perfect.

And this moment was as far from perfect as it got.

His fist clenched—once, twice—the old signal.Proceed. But it’ll be your mess to clean up.

Karyseth caught the gesture. Her snarl revealed cracked fangs. “The human dies. By law. By fire.”

Orla’s breath hitched. A sound like glass shattering in my ribs.

I moved.

My wing buffeted the left warrior into the flame pit, his scream cut short as he scrambled to safety. My tail snapped the right one’s knee before he could react, the wet crunch drowned by the crowd’s collective hiss. Orla collapsed forward, and I caught her against my chest, her body shockingly cold against my burning scales.

“She is mine!”

My roar shook the cavern. Cracks splintered up the sanctum walls, dust raining from the ceiling.

The words seared my throat, hotter than any battle cry.

Karyseth recoiled, her robes billowing at the hem. The crowd’s snarls died mid-breath. Even Darrokar went statue-still, his wingtip twitching once before stilling.

Fuck tradition. Fuck the laws.

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