Page 19 of Burned to Obey

“Your minotaurs saw to it last night,” I snap. “Or was that not thorough enough?”

He steps closer, ignoring the jibe. “Let me see.” It’s not a gentle request.

The presence of two guards in the doorway kills any notion of refusing outright, yet I feel my rage spike. I hold his gaze for a solid moment, letting him see just how little I appreciate this. Then I yank the bandage down an inch, exposing the raw edges of his crest. The flesh around the mark is an angry red, scabbed in places.

He exhales through flared nostrils. “Swelling has gone down.” He angles his head at one of the guards. “Fetch the salve.”

I grit my teeth as the guard leaves, returning shortly with a small clay pot. Saru gestures for me to hold out my arm. My first impulse is to jerk away, but the throbbing pain and the guard’s watchful stance stops me. Instead, I shove my forearm forward.

Saru scoops a small amount of pale-green ointment with two thick fingers. He carefully pats it onto the burn, the gesture unexpectedly precise for such a massive hand. It stings at first. I clench my teeth and stare at him. He meets my eyes, and for a moment, the tension between us tightens like a drawn bow.

His voice is quiet. “This will help it heal faster.”

“You act like you’re doing me a kindness.” My voice trembles with unspent fury. “I never asked for your brand.”

He finishes applying the ointment, then steps back to let me fix the bandage. He doesn’t speak right away, and the silence fuels my anger further. At last, he straightens. “We need to talk.”

I fold my arms, mindful of my burn. “Fine. Talk.”

He nods at the guards, and they step out, leaving us alone in the cell. He closes the door behind them, a soft rattle of metal. My pulse kicks up, uncertain whether to lash out or brace for confrontation. A low hush settles.

Saru stands tall, arms folded across his chest. “The Senate demanded your execution. Thakur intended to carry it out swiftly. That brand was the only way to keep you alive.”

I snort. “Why do you care if I’m alive or dead?”

A flash of something passes through his gaze. Guilt, perhaps, or regret. “Because your sabotage saved someone important to me.”

My stomach tightens. “Your sister, right? The senator.”

His jaw shifts. “Vira. She was scheduled to board that dark elf vessel. She never did, because you destroyed it first.” He looks away, horns tilting in a subdued motion. “If I let them kill you, it’s as though that sacrifice meant nothing.”

I force a bitter laugh. “So I’m your pet good deed. You can’t let me die, so I’m stuck with your crest burned into my flesh.” I lift my bandaged arm accusingly. “That’s no better than a slaver’s mark.”

He steps closer, voice dropping. “I know you see it that way. But the Senate’s order gave me no alternative.” Each word is slow, precise. “In my culture, this brand grants temporary immunity from the local court. It forces the Senate to hold a formal hearing before any execution. That’s time we can use to?—”

“Stop saying ‘we,’” I cut in, throat constricting. “I’m not your partner. You did this to me, regardless of your reasons.”

He doesn’t move, but tension ripples under his fur. “I understand your anger.”

“No, you don’t.” The words come out ragged. “You walk around with power at your fingertips. You call yourself disgraced, but you’re still the Warden, you still command every guard in this fortress. Meanwhile, I’m locked here like an animal, now branded by you. Don’t talk to me about understanding.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Silence stretches, thick with anger and unspoken truths. Rain taps against the stone window, and the chill seeps deeper into my bones.

He exhales. “I can’t undo the brand. But I can offer you a…different arrangement.” He lifts his chin, as if bracing for my reaction. “I can move you from this cell to private quarters, near my own. You’ll be guarded, but you’ll have more freedom to move, more space to breathe.”

A laugh bursts from me, sharp and humorless. “More freedom? Let me guess, I’ll still have a guard trailing me. That’s not freedom. That’s a larger cage with your crest pinned to my arm.”

His amber eyes flicker, betraying a fleeting spark of frustration. “Yes, there will be conditions. I can’t risk you vanishing into the Bastion. The Senate would use your disappearance as an excuse to undermine me.”

“Or they’d suspect you helped me flee. Doesn’t matter. I’m still your captive.”

He takes a measured breath, as though struggling to remain calm. “You’d have privacy, a chance to move, perhaps work outside the cell. The brand protects you from being thrown into the arena. Isn’t that preferable to rotting here until Thakur finds a loophole to kill you?”

I ball my good hand into a fist. “You think I should be grateful?”

He doesn’t say yes. He just watches me with a gaze that’s both guarded and oddly genuine. “I’d prefer you live.”

Those words set off sparks in my chest. My resentment fights with a deeper fear. Part of me knows that if Saru truly abandoned me to Thakur’s schemes, I’d be dead by now, my body tossed in some unmarked grave. Another part of me rages that I’m forced to accept his help on his terms.

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