Page 13 of Echoes of Fire

“You aren’t fine.” He stepped closer, his broad shoulders tense. The weight of his presence filled the room like a flame creeping closer, heating everything in its path. “You’re bruised.”

I laughed, bitter and quiet. “Don’t worry about me. You’ve done enough already.”

He looked startled at my words, like I’d struck him. His chest expanded with a sharp inhale, faint embers lighting beneath his scales. “Do not mistake necessity for—” He stopped, his tail lashing against the floor. “The claim was to save your life. But it is my responsibility now to see to your health.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“No,” he admitted, the single word scraped raw. “But you are.” He stepped closer still, heat rolling off him in waves. “And I protect what is mine.”

The wordminesent a shiver through me. I tried to suppress it. Failed. I stood, the aching protests of my body ignored, and faced him—one hand gripping the edge of the bench for steadiness, the other clenched into a fist by my side. “I am notyours.I am my own person. And I can take care of myself.” Not that I was doing very well at that right now.

If my defiance rattled him, he didn’t show it. His slitted pupils narrowed further, the faintest growl vibrating from deep within his chest. “You can barely stand.”

I glared at him. “Yeah? Whose fault is that?”

The growl cut off, his jaw tightening as heat flared briefly along his scales. He didn’t respond.

I forced myself to break eye contact, grabbing the nearest folded blanket from edge of the sleeping platform. “I’ll sleep over here tonight,” I said, my voice sharp but quieter now.“I've crashed on a couch before.” Of course, those couches had cushions. But the Drakarn were not soft. Apparently, they didn't care about comfort.

“You’re being stubborn,” he replied.

“And you’re being overbearing.”

A long pause stretched between us. Eventually, Rath exhaled a sharp breath. It came out like a hiss, his tail flicking the edge of the floor. “Fine.” His voice was cold, the diplomacy gone. “Do what you want.”

The space between us rippled with tension. I sat heavily on the couch, wrapping the blanket around myself stubbornly. My ribs flared a fresh complaint, but I ignored it.

Rath settled onto the stone platform across the room. His movements weren’t loud, but every scrape of claw against obsidian battered my senses. He sat rigidly, his broad back facing me. The glow of the heat crystals cast faint, pulsing patterns over his wings, which drooped slightly now, less tension in the sinewed muscles around them.

We didn’t say anything else. I pulled the blanket tightly around my shoulders and propped a pillow between the wall and my aching ribs. My body begged for stillness, but my mind wouldn’t quiet.

The events of the day looped through my thoughts like a jagged-edged film reel. Karyseth’s accusing snarl, the hissing crowd, the sensation of Rath’s claws tearing through the zealots’ ranks to claim me—each memory spiraled into the next. My fingers drifted to my neck where his tongue had left an invisible brand, heat still radiating beneath the skin every time I thought of the phrase,“She is mine.”

I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to focus on the pain—more tangible sensations. My ribs, still tender, resisted when I shifted positions. My palms stung where I’d scraped against jagged rock while fleeing. My shoulders cried out from hours of tension. Thecouch was too hard to offer relief, no matter how I contorted myself.

Sleep didn’t come easily. My mind stayed alert, cataloging every sensation, every flicker of uncertainty crawling over my skin. The warmth of the chamber wrapped around me like a smothering blanket, layering atop the press of Rath’s invisible gaze. I doubted he’d turned to look, but I could still feel him—could hear his steady breaths above the ambient noise of the city. There was something about his proximity that made it impossible for me to relax, no matter what position I shifted into.

My ribs rebelled again, a sharp ache cutting through my chest. I groaned and bit back a curse.

“You’re still awake.” His voice broke the quiet, startling me.

"I'll sleep eventually."

I didn't.

FOUR

RATH

The River Market roared with life as we entered, its heartbeat pulsing alongside the river winding through the city’s core. Reflections from the water and heat crystals played across market stalls and stone ceilings, casting moving shadows.

Voices rose and fell in waves: merchants hawking fire-etched jewelry, farmers shouting over crates of krysfruit, and warriors exchanging boasts while sharpening their lava-forged blades. The heat radiating from the stones beneath our feet pressed upward, intensifying with the crush of bodies.

Orla walked at my side, her eyes darting across the crowd with equal parts curiosity and unease. I let my wing brush against her, and she gave me a wavering smile. My tail flicked once, irritated—not at her, but at the stares and whispers that followed us, and the way her shoulders drew tight under their weight.

Let them stare. Let them see my claim and understand the price of disrespect.

It had been two days since the claiming, since she’d held a blade to my throat, and I’d tasted her pulse under my tongue. Two days of torture where she kept her distance but hadn’t leftmy quarters. Two days of her sleeping in a little burrow against one wall made of scavenged silks and pillows as if I hadn’t offered her sole use of the bed.

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