Page 10 of Fated to the Drakarn Commander (Drakarn Mates 4)

Mine.

Not a thought but a certainty carved into my bones.

Stunned silence crashed down. I felt the weight of every stare—Darrokar's sharp assessment, Terra's widened eyes, the Council's collective shock.

Even Karyseth stepped forward, her ancient eyes narrowing with sudden interest.

The admission burned in my throat like molten steel, undeniable and irreversible. I had never intended to claim her, to acknowledge the pull that had been tormenting me since I first caught her scent. Yet the thought of Plaktish's oily gaze upon her, the idea that she could be traded away like a weapon or a trinket …

My control had shattered like brittle stone.

"Interesting." Plaktish's voice dripped with satisfaction. He'd gotten exactly what he wanted—information. "I wasn't aware Scalvaris had formalized bonds with the humans. How many others have been … claimed?"

"That is not your concern," Darrokar cut in, his voice a sharp edge.

"When it affects the balance of power on Volcaryth, it becomes everyone's concern," Plaktish countered. "Ignarath merely wishes to understand our … changing world."

"You wish to exploit it," I growled. "Your accusations of raids are fabricated to justify your demands."

Plaktish's eyes hardened. "Strong words, Stone Fist. Would you call me a liar before your Council and the Temple?"

"I call you what you are," I replied, my voice steady despite the storm raging within. "A scavenger picking at wounds you hope to widen."

Karyseth's ceremonial staff struck the stone floor with a sound like thunder. "The Temple takes note of these accusations." Her ancient voice commanded attention. "If blood has truly been spilled as claimed, the Sacred Flame demands proper rites and true accounting." She turned her gaze to Plaktish. "The Ignarath witnesses will present themselves at the Temple for truthspeaking."

Plaktish's composure cracked. Truthspeaking before the priestesses was no small matter. Lies told under their rituals resulted in consequences few survived.

"The witnesses have suffered enough trauma," he demurred. "Perhaps another solution?—"

"No." Darrokar rose to his full height, wings partially extended in a display of dominance. "There will be no reparations without truth. Either your witnesses appear before the Temple, or your claims are dismissed."

The chamber filled with the low rumble of Council approval. Plaktish's eyes narrowed, calculation evident in every line of his body.

"Very well," he conceded with false grace. "I will convey your … requirements … to the High Council. But know this: The humans change everything. Their presence upsets balances that have existed for generations. Scalvaris cannot hoard such power without consequences."

Darrokar signaled to the chamber guards. "You have delivered your message."

Plaktish bowed—the precise degree that conveyed respect while implying none—and turned to leave with his warriors. As he passed me, he paused, his voice pitched for my ears alone. "She must be quite remarkable, Stone Fist, to crack your legendary control. I look forward to meeting her properly."

My growl erupted from depths I rarely accessed—a promise of violence so explicit that even Plaktish stepped back.

"You will never touch her."

4

HAWK

"I swearto whatever gods this hellhole has, if one more oversized lizard tells me 'it's for our protection,' I'm going to start removing scales with my bare hands!"

Vega's voice slammed off the stone walls of our new "accommodations"—a glorified bunker carved deep into the heart of Scalvaris. Bigger, yes. Higher ceilings, multiple chambers. It still felt like a cage. The air, thick and recycled, pressed in.

Nobody was taking it well. The tension was a physical thing, a knot tightening low in my back, pulling my shoulders taut.

"I knew this would happen," Reika whispered, her voice thin and brittle. She paced the perimeter like a trapped animal, fingers ghosting over the rough stone, searching for an escape hatch that wasn’t there. Escaping Ignarath territory only to be confined again … it had scraped something bloody inside her. "They're going to kill us."

"We're not trapped," I said, forcing steadiness into my voice, fighting the tremor that wanted to betray the exhaustion clawing at me. "The door isn't locked. It's guarded. Against the Ignarath." My own words sounded hollow.

"Same difference," Vega snapped, her fist cracking against the wall. Boom. The sound ricocheted off the stone, up my legs, making my teeth ache. Frustration made tangible. "They're controlling us either way."

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