Page 58 of Burned to Obey

NAEVA

I’m wide awake before dawn, curled against Saru in his bed for the last moments of quiet before the Bastion’s chaos stirs. The embers of last night’s tenderness linger between us, warm and bittersweet. His chest rises and falls beneath my cheek, reassuring me that he’s alive—no lingering aftereffects of the poison that nearly claimed him. Outside, I hear the faint shuffle of guards changing shifts. My insides twist, uneasy. Each day in the fortress brings fresh threats, and Thakur looms over us like a blade poised to descend.

I ease myself up, careful not to jostle Saru. My ribs throb, but the pain has dulled. His brand remains on my arm, the scab healing but still visible. It’s become more than forced protection. After everything we’ve shared—his life in my hands, my secrets in his—this crest feels like a vow. Yet the outside world sees it differently. If Thakur has his way, I’ll be forced into a trial or executed. Worse, he might try to cast Saru aside, claiming him unfit.

Gently, I slip from the blankets. Saru stirs, eyes flickering open. His horns shift as he focuses on me, a silent question. Imanage a small smile. “I just need to stand up. My side hurts if I stay still too long.”

He nods, pushing upright in bed. The soft lamplight catches the silver edges of his horns and the lingering bruise across his chest from the convulsions. “Better?” he asks, voice rough with sleep.

I stretch, ignoring the twinge under my ribs. “A little,” I murmur, smoothing down my tunic. “But we should check on the fortress. Thakur won’t rest after what happened.”

He nods, exhaling. “Then we’ll face it. Together.”

The promise in his tone calms me. I cross the cold floor, slipping on my boots while Saru dresses. We barely speak, exchanging glances loaded with unspoken understanding. Yesterday, we faced near tragedy. Last night, we clung to each other. Now, we venture into a world that might tear us apart. The Bastion can be merciless, and Thakur even more so.

We exit the room, greeting the guard posted outside. He bows, reading the tension in our features. Saru leads the way through the corridors, each step echoing in the hush of early morning. I keep close to his side, scanning for any sign of sabotage or unexpected watchers. My heart flutters with worry. Thakur might have minotaur allies or Senate supporters lurking around. We can’t let our guard drop.

At the main intersection near the supply yard, Captain Davor intercepts us with a grim expression. “Warden,” he says to Saru, then turns to me. “Naeva. You should know: Thakur summoned a formal hearing with the lower Senate. He arrived late last night, claiming he has proof of your treason, and that the Warden is unfit.” His tone drips with contempt. “He demands your immediate execution, pending a Bastion review.”

My stomach twists. Treason? “What proof?” I manage, voice tight.

Davor scowls. “Fabricated evidence. Some nonsense about you conspiring with dark elves, forging contraband. Possibly linking you to the poison that nearly killed the Warden. He claims Saru’s blind to your ‘true nature.’” He lowers his voice. “He’s come with official Senate backing this time.”

Saru’s jaw sets, horns angling in anger. “So he means to corner us. That’s no surprise.”

I fold my arms over my sore ribs. “If the Senate backs him, do we have any recourse?”

Davor lifts a battered scroll. “He’s invoked ancient minotaur law. If the Senate sees Saru as unfit, they can depose him—unless he challenges it in the arena. A champion’s duel. Win, and you keep your rank. Lose, and you forfeit your claim, leading to your prisoner’s execution.” He gives me a sympathetic look. “That is, your execution.”

My pulse hammers. The old ways say a Warden can defend his position through a formal arena challenge. But this is monstrous. If Saru loses, I’ll be condemned. A wave of dread washes over me. “We can’t let him fight. That’s madness.”

Saru’s horns tilt toward me, eyes grim. “Madness or not, it’s the only path if Thakur has enough Senate clout. I won’t stand by while they brand you a traitor.”

I reach for his arm, voice shaking. “You almost died from poison. You’re still recovering. This is exactly what Thakur wants— push you into a rigged arena fight while you’re weak.”

Saru glances at Davor. “We have no other option?”

Davor shrugs, frustration etched in his face. “Unless you’re willing to let them drag Naeva to the gallows. Thakur demanded an immediate execution order. The Senate accepted, but they included the ancient challenge clause. Possibly because some within the Senate want to see if you’ll fold.”

I grit my teeth, turning to Saru. “Don’t do it. Don’t risk your life for me again.”

He fixes me with a steady gaze, ignoring the uncertain guards around us. “I can’t let them kill you, Naeva. I’d fight an army if that’s what it takes.”

My chest tightens. Heat prickles beneath the branded skin—echoes of the past. I saved his life once, but an arena duel is a different beast. “This is exactly the trap Thakur set.”

He nods grimly, tail flicking once. “Then let him set it. I’ll break it.”

Saru glances at Davor, voice terse. “Prepare the challenge. I’ll face whomever Thakur nominates as champion. We do it by the old code.”

Davor salutes, though worry flickers in his eyes. “Yes, Warden.”

Saru looks back at me, jaw set. “I want you safe. Stay near your guard. Don’t listen to Thakur’s lies.”

I can barely speak past the lump in my throat. “This is insane,” I whisper, stepping closer so only he can hear. “You’re not fully healed. You’ll bleed out if that champion strikes true.”

His expression softens, tension in his horns easing for a moment. He lifts a hand to my cheek, ignoring the handful of watchers who pretend not to stare. “If I die, let my name shield you. The Bastion can’t kill someone under House Rhek’tal crest unless all the line is gone.”

My stomach roils. “That’s your plan? Sacrifice yourself to keep me breathing?”

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