Page 34 of Scorched By Fate

“Go on,” he said, the protective angle of his wings shielding me from whatever unseen threat still lurked.

I resumed my work, my focus tightening as I clipped the last of the vyrathis stems and sealed them carefully in the container. The silvery surface of the leaves glinted, catching patterns of light that seemed almost too delicate for a place like this.

“We need more,” I said, rising carefully from my crouch.

Vyne’s green eyes flicked toward the container in my hands, and for a moment, there was something like relief written in the sharp lines of his expression. Not warmth, not exactly—but close enough to knock me off-center.

My eyes darted down to his lips, and I squeezed them shut before any thoughts about what those lips could do rose up.

Too late.

Shoving the container back into the secured pocket of my pack, I straightened, wincing at the ache settling into my shoulders.

Without a word, Vyne moved closer, his claws brushing against the ledge for balance as his hand extended toward me. His large frame cast long shadows over the tiny ridge, and his gaze fixed on me with that same irritating intensity he always carried.

I hesitated, just for a moment. Then, gripping his offered hand, I caught his wrist with mine and allowed him to guide me away from the edge.

The vyrathis was easier to spot the second time. And the third. I lost track of time, but the ache in my legs and the burn in my lungs told me it had been hours. My bag was full to bursting with vyrathis, container stuffed full.

It had to be enough.

The healers would live. If we got it home to them in time.

Vyne put down a marker at the biggest bed of the plant, a stake in the ground with a brightly covered piece of cloth tiedto the end that could be spotted from the air so Drakarn from Scalvaris would know where to look if we had to send them back for even more.

We’d done it.

For now, at least, it had to be enough.

The ground was growing more unstable by the minute, and we couldn’t linger. I stepped into Vyne’s arms and let him launch me into the air as we began our flight home.

The place we stopped at wasn’t much of a campsite, but it was flat, and that was good enough for me. It was carved out of a small space in the mountainside, shielded by a curve of sharp black rock that jutted outward like broken teeth.

Heat shimmered across every surface, but now the air softened just a little compared to the suffocating press from earlier. I wouldn’t call it breathable, but I wasn’t choking on every inhale now either.

Small mercies.

Our packs were slumped against the outcrop, their rough fabric streaked with ash and dirt from the endless journey. I collapsed against the rock wall, letting out a long, unsteady breath as I tugged the scarf from my face now that the rock was blocking some of the worst gusts of sulfurous winds. The deceptively light vyrathis container rested in my lap.

The trip wasn’t over—not even close—but for the first time since setting out, the sense of triumph outweighed the exhaustion clinging to every single muscle I had.

Vyne moved a few feet away, crouching and holding onto the stone like it was nothing. He didn’t look worn out—hell, he didn’t even look inconvenienced. His movements lacked any sluggishness as he pulled a water flask free, uncapping it with the same ease he carried in every action.

“Could you at least pretend you’re as exhausted as I am?” I muttered, craning my neck to glance over at him. Theconsequences of the flight and search pressed against my ribs, but irritation felt like a better distraction than lingering on how much energy I’d burned.

Vyne paused, mid-motion, then glanced at me with a lift of his brow. “Would it help?”

“Yeah,” I shot back, quick enough to feel the pull of amusement creep into my voice. “Solidarity and all that.”

He tilted his head, expression calm but a bit edged. For just a moment, I thought I caught the bare flicker of something like humor somewhere beneath all the unreadable layers he wore like a shield.

“Noted.”

I huffed out a shallow breath, leaning my head back and letting my gaze wander past him to the horizon beyond our fragile little camp. The Harrovan peaks stretched endlessly, their silhouettes rising against waves of twisting heat and sulfuric haze. Everything about this place was wrong—hostile.

Beautiful, sure, but ready to remind you just how easily it could kill you.

I slid the vyrathis container into one of the pouches in my pack, protecting it from the harsh environment. I made myself linger on the process—adjusting, tying the straps—anything to keep my hands busy. But when I stood, shaking the tension out of my legs, I swore my movements pulled his attention again, heavy, steady, and impossible to ignore.

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