Page 37 of Burned to Obey

When the healer finishes, I attempt to stand. He waves me down. “Rest. Another hour at least. The Warden can come back for you.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Saru’s low voice cuts in. “Listen to him.” He steps closer, arms still folded but voice gentler. “You need to recover.”

I sigh, sinking into the cot. “Fine.”

The healer fusses a bit more, then returns to checking other patients. Saru moves to a quieter corner, beckoning me to follow if I can walk a few steps. He leans against a stone pillar near the back of the infirmary, where the cots are fewer and the hum of wounded murmurs dims. With caution, I rise and shuffle over, ignoring the jabs of pain.

Once we’re relatively alone, he faces me. My gaze sweeps over him—blood spatters on his bracer from the fight, the tension in his horns. “You risked a lot,” I say softly, surprising even myself.

He exhales, eyes flicking to the linen bandages around my torso. “I swore you’d remain unharmed under my crest. Letting Thakur’s men kill you would make me a liar.”

A twisted laugh slips free. “You don’t owe me that.”

He shakes his head, voice low. “It’s not just about owing. I won’t watch another person die when I can prevent it.”

Another reference to his brother, I guess. My anger toward him wavers, overshadowed by the memory of how he tore through those attackers without hesitation. He could have killed them, but he chose restraint. Instead of seeing him as my captorfor a heartbeat, I see him as a shield—someone who’ll break bones to protect me.

I shift, wincing. “I didn’t expect you so quickly.”

He meets my eyes, that quiet intensity returning. “I felt something was off. Heard rumors of certain guards moving suspiciously. I followed them.”

A swirl of emotions floods me: relief, gratitude, and a flicker of guilt that I can’t hold onto pure hatred of him. He might have forced this brand on me, but he’s also the reason I’m breathing right now. “Thank you,” I manage, voice hushed.

He nods once, as if unsettled by sincerity. “You’re welcome.” Then he shifts, glancing down at the dried blood staining his armguard. “I’ll have them face trial for attacking you. No Senate directive can pardon them from this treachery.”

My stomach clenches. “Trial might not matter if Thakur twists everything. He probably has allies in the Senate who’d call it an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

Saru’s jaw sets. “Then I’ll push harder. The Bastion’s law stands. That brand outranks any senator’s personal vendetta. If Thakur tries to save them, he’ll reveal his hand.”

A grim satisfaction stirs in me, though I also fear how Thakur might retaliate. “He’ll be furious.”

“Let him rage.” He lifts a shoulder. “I’ve faced worse.”

I study his face, noticing the lines of stress. He’s exhausted, emotionally or physically, but he stands tall for my benefit. Something cracks in my chest, seeing him like this—fierce, stoic, protective. A sliver of genuine respect worms its way past my defenses. I loathe feeling indebted, but I can’t pretend his actions are meaningless.

He glances at my bandages. “Rest. The Bastion can run a day without you. Don’t push your luck.”

I force a wry smile. “I have tasks. Quartermaster duties can’t wait.”

His brow creases. “They can. You nearly died.”

My reply catches in my throat. Another wave of shock hits me—the realization that minutes ago, I was pinned under a guard’s arm, a spear poised to end me. The memory sends a shudder through my battered body. I clench my fists. “I hate relying on you,” I admit softly. “But I’m glad you showed up.”

He nods, acknowledging the conflict in my words. “I understand.” His expression darkens, a swirl of guilt or regret lurking. “I gave you that brand. It’s my duty to uphold it.”

I lean against the pillar, fatigue sinking in. “Duty,” I echo, voice brittle. “One day, maybe I won’t need that brand to stay alive. But for now…”

“Yes,” he says quietly. For a moment, we’re both silent, letting the reality settle. The day’s chaos has underscored how precarious my position is. Even the Bastion’s uniform doesn’t guarantee loyalty if Thakur’s gold or threats sway them.

The healer passes by, casting a disapproving look at me for standing. I shift awkwardly. “I should lie back before he scolds me again.”

Saru dips his head. “I’ll handle the formalities. Keep your blade close. The one we forged.”

My eyes widen slightly. He’s acknowledging that hidden weapon openly. “You’re not confiscating it?”

He shakes his head, a faint spark in his gaze. “No. Just be smart.”

My throat tightens with unexpected gratitude. “I will.”

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