Page 16 of Burned to Obey

“You’ve chained me all over again,” she rasps. “How is this different?”

I exhale, struggling for composure. “You still live.”

She snarls. “Life in a new cage. This brand? It’s just a mark of your house, not my freedom.”

My own frustration flares, but I hold it down. “It’s the only option I had. Do you think I relish doing this?”

She shudders. Her voice is ice. “You only saved your prized tool from the scrap heap, Warden.”

Any retort dies in my throat. I don’t want to hurl words that I might regret. So I grit my teeth, turning toward the guards. “Get her wound treated. Then return her to a secure cell. Inform the rest of the Bastion that she is not to be harmed.”

Davor nods, wincing at the tension radiating between Naeva and me. The crowd parts, letting them pass. I watch her exit, still bristling with contempt, the fresh brand throbbing on her forearm. My horns feel so heavy than they ever have, carrying the weight of what I’ve done.

A voice pipes up behind me. “Warden Saru, is this wise?” It’s an older clerk with streaks of gray in his fur. He stands behind the scribes, hands clasped anxiously.

I turn, eyeing him. “Questioning my call, clerk?”

He bows his head quickly. “N-no, sir. But the Senate?—”

“I’ll deal with the Senate.”

A swirl of uneasy murmurs follows me as I stride away from the dais. My heart hammers, and my entire body trembles with residual tension. By claiming Naeva, I’ve set us on a path that few would risk. The Vakkak crest bond can’t be undone lightly. And I see the condemnation in the eyes of the onlookers.

Some part of me wonders if I’ve bound us both to a new form of torment. Another part insists I had no choice. She would be dead by now if I hadn’t. That knowledge must be enough.

I stride down the passageway to my private quarters, brushing off the stares from guards who move aside. Once inside, I close the heavy wooden door and let out a shaky breath. My quarters are sparse: a low table, a couple of chairs, a large trunk where I keep personal effects, a bed with a thick wool blanket.

I shrug off my chest armor, letting it drop onto a bench. My horns feel hot, and my chest is tight with adrenaline. It’s not fear, exactly—more like the aftershock of stepping off a cliff. This moment changes everything.

At length, I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, gaze distant. Images of Naeva’s contorted expression keep flashing in my mind: how she forced herself to hold still while I burned my crest into her flesh. The smell of scorched skin still seems to cling to me. I hate that the brand was necessary. If I were a less honorable minotaur, maybe I’d let the Senate carry out their will, so I could remain unaffected. But that’s not who I am.

I recall the first time I glimpsed her in the corridor, how her spirit rattled the guards. I think of the past days in the armory, her eyes bright with anger whenever I gave instructions. She’s a flame of rebellion in a fortress built on discipline. I sense she might burn me if I stand too close. Yet I’ve chosen to shield that flame instead of snuffing it out.

That unsettles me in ways I can’t fully articulate. Her refusal to bend resonates with something deep inside me—my own sense of honor, or maybe the guilt that’s gnawed at me ever since I spilled my brother’s blood. She tears at my defenses by simply existing, forcing me to question whether I can truly carry out the Senate’s will if they demand it.

A knock rattles the door. I straighten as Captain Davor steps in. He’s out of breath. “Warden, Senator Thakur just arrived at the gates. He demands an audience.”

The timing is too convenient. “Of course he does. Where is he?”

“In the main hall, with two personal guards.”

I stand, adjusting the straps on my bracers. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”

Davor leads me through the winding halls until we reach a wide atrium used for formal receptions. The walls are lined with tall windows that overlook the sea, giving a sweeping view of crashing waves far below. It’s a room designed to display the Bastion’s majesty. Now it’s a stage for a power play.

Senator Thakur stands in the center, clad in expensive robes of dark blue trimmed in gold. Unlike the typical minotaur build, Thakur is leaner, with cunning eyes and horns polished to a near-metallic sheen. Two heavily armed guards flank him. He turns when I enter, tail flicking in annoyance.

“Warden Saru.” His voice is cool. “I’ve just heard a ridiculous rumor that you invoked the Vakkak crest law to spare that human. Please tell me it’s a misunderstanding.”

My hands clench at my sides. “It’s true. The brand was placed in the courtyard this morning. I’ve already had it recorded by official scribes.”

He narrows his eyes, stepping forward. “You defy a direct Senate order?”

I keep my tone steady. “I am fulfilling my duty as Warden. The Senate demanded she face execution here, but I uncovered additional…information tied to her sabotage. It’s more prudent to keep her alive while we verify what she knows.”

He scoffs. “So you tie your name to hers? You realize how this looks?”

I lift my chin. “I’m aware. But the law is valid, Senator. If you want her dead, you’ll have to bring it before the entire High Senate in an official hearing.”

---