Page 22 of Echoes of Fire

“… your bond is a disgrace …”

Krazath’s taunt clung to me, acid and unshakable. The effort it took not to rip his throat out still thrummed in my veins. I’d lost my temper before, but never so closely to losing full control. The memory of Orla’s voice cutting through that red haze—steady, soft—kept me from digging my claws into the stone right now.

“If you scowl any harder, Rath, your face might stick that way.”

Vyne’s voice shattered the silence. He reclined in his chair, green scales catching the dim light. That smirk of his was always too wide, the gleam in his gaze constantly daring someone to test him.

“Careful,” I warned. “You might tempt me to see how quick you really are.”

His smirk only grew. “Bold words. Aren’t mates supposed to mellow old warriors? You sure you shouldn’t be off romancing your human instead of sulking like a fledgling?”

Heat crawled into my chest, roughening my tone. “And what would you know about mates, besides imaginary ones you put into terrible poems?”

A loud crack cut me off—Khorlar’s fist crashing down on the table. His granite-gray scales looked dull, but that glare of his had enough force to still anyone.

“Enough,” he said, voice like grinding stone. “If you wish to quarrel, do it elsewhere.”

Vyne raised his hands in mock surrender, though mischief still danced in his eyes. I tamped down my anger with effort. He wasn’t entirely wrong—my mind had been wandering all morning, and I hated that fact.

Darrokar finally spoke from the head of the table, where he’d sat in silent observation. Faint red pulses played across his black scales as he tapped his claws on the armrest. His voice held the weight of both his status and his role as my oldest ally and friend.

“We don’t have time for squabbles,” he said. “Your bond with Orla has thrown the council off-balance. Half see it as a betrayal of our ways. The others view it as proof of your strength in taming a wild creature. Either way, the whispers aren’t stopping.”

I bared my teeth, the tension building in my chest. “Let them whisper. Krazath, Karyseth—whoever challenges me will regret it. Besides, you have a human mate. They accepted her.”

Darrokar’s brow arched. “You’ve already nearly taken Krazath’s head off, if the rumors are accurate. News of that is everywhere. And as for my mate, you were out on scout dutywhen I made my case. This new match has reignited all the resistance I faced.”

Khorlar folded his broad arms, drawing my attention. “He’s right. You may not have killed Krazath, but you almost did—and that’s enough to stir trouble.”

My anger flared again. “I won’t hold back if someone threatens my mate. And Krazath is telling tales. I barely touched him.”

“Be that as it may,” Khorlar said calmly. “Your actions have fallout. Krazath is nobody, but his allies wait for you to lose control.”

Every detail of last night was etched into my mind: Krazath cornering Orla, how her fear laced the air, how rage nearly consumed me. Only her voice had kept me from ripping his throat out.

Darrokar’s deep tones cut in, “You’re on a blade’s edge, Rath. The council was wary enough of letting the humans stay. There are plenty who respect the Forge more than you, even if they are not adherents.”

I usually would have argued, but Darrokar’s words held too much truth to dismiss. I could feel the weight of them like a blade pressed to my neck.

“I will not let her go,” I said, voice edged.

“Of course not,” Darrokar snapped. “You need to be smarter. You built your place here through victories; win this battle the same way.”

Khorlar nodded. “The people remember your strength in the River Trials, and how we took care of those lava beasts the Narvix tried to unleash on us. You can sway opinions, but not if you act like a mindless brute whenever your mate’s involved.”

I hated agreeing with them, but a seasoned part of my mind recognized the logic. The fire inside me, though—the one thatbegan the moment Orla entered my life—raged at the thought of placating anyone who’d undermine her.

Vyne’s drawl cut in again. “Maybe spend a little less time in bed with her and a little more time proving you’re not going soft.”

I shot him a glare that made his grin waver. He would never stop laughing if he knew I did all of this for a mate I had yet to even kiss. One taste had made methis.

When she finally opened herself fully to me …

I couldn’t think of that here, especially not now.

Darrokar rose, his towering shape casting a long shadow. “No one doubts a bonded warrior who makes his mate’s protection part of his strength,” he said, “but you must prove it isn’t a weakness. The River’s Run Festival is coming up,” he said. “The timing couldn’t be better.”

“For what?” I asked, wary.

---