Page 42 of Wicked Depths

Fighting herself.

And I?

I’m enjoying every second of it.

“You’re thinking awfully hard, Dragon Queen,” I murmur, tilting my head. My voice dips into something softer, something teasing, laced with the pull of my magic. A gentle, beckoning tide. “I wonder what troubles that sharp, calculating mind of yours.”

Her claws twitch again, a flicker of restraint.

She’s cracking.

Slowly. But surely.

“I told you,” she says, voice low, “I do not need—”

“You do.” I step closer, close enough that my presence brushes against hers. “I am bound to you, am I not? I swore an oath, did I not? Yet you still hesitate.” My lips curve, sharp and taunting. “What are you so afraid of?”

Her claws flex.

The Sentinels watch.

I push further.

“If you want to win this war,” I say, “you need me at my full strength. You need me to be the force they do not see coming.” I tilt my head, my voice a low whisper now. “Or is this truly about the war at all?”

Nyxara’s jaw tightens.

And then, finally—finally—she exhales, sharp and furious.

“Fine.”

I smirk.

Nyxara levels me with a look so sharp it could cut through steel, her emerald eyes dark with warning. Her claws press into the wood of the war table, slow, deliberate. A silent threat.

Then, she gestures toward the large stone bowl of water at the center of the room, her voice low and dangerous.

"Do it."

She steps closer, each movement controlled, predatory. "But know this, siren—if you betray me, if you so much as think of turning that power against me, against my realm, I will burn you from the inside out. I will reduce you to nothing but steam and memory, and I will not hesitate."

The air thickens with the weight of her magic, fire curling in the space between us, licking at my skin without truly touching me. A promise of what she will do if I make the wrong choice.

I let the silence stretch between us, savoring the tension, the weight of her fury, of her threat. Then, slowly, deliberately, I tilt my head, my lips curving into something wicked.

"Oh, how terrifying," I purr, trailing a lazy finger along the water’s surface. "Shall I start trembling now, or would you prefer I wait until after I’ve drowned your enemies?"

Her jaw tightens. I see the flicker of irritation in her eyes, the way her claws flex at her sides as if resisting the urge to strike.

She expected me to cower. To take her words as the warning they were meant to be.

But I am not afraid of fire.

And I love watching her burn.

The Sentinels remain silent as I dip my hands into the water.

A pulse.

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