Page 27 of Davoren
"Lord Davoren approaches," she announced, though the words were unnecessary.
Twelve trained soldiers, probably veterans of border skirmishes and trade route battles, took an involuntary step back. Just one step, but synchronized, as if their bodies had made the decision without consulting their minds. Their hands went to weapons, then jerked away as they remembered drawing steel in a Dragon Lord's hall meant death.
Davoren moved through the space like he was part of it, each step deliberate and unhurried. He'd added a cloak to his ensemble—black scales that caught the light and threw it back in rainbows of darkness. It moved with its own weight, heavier than fabric should be.
The bond between us sang with his controlled fury, his determination to handle this within the constraints of law while every instinct screamed to simply incinerate the threat to his mate. Through that connection, I felt him noting every detail—the guards' positions, Solmar's arrogant stance, the way the legal advocate's hands shook, how Scarlet had positioned herself to intervene if needed.
He ascended the dais without acknowledging any of them, each step on the volcanic glass creating small bursts of golden flame that died immediately. The throne accepted him like it had been waiting, the crystallized flames in the armrests flaring to life at his touch. When he sat, the entire hall seemed to reorganize itself around him—shadows deepening where he wanted mystery, light brightening where he wanted clarity.
"Here," he said to me, gesturing to a spot beside the throne.
Not a seat—there was no second throne, no chair for a consort. The message was clear: I stood beside him but not equal to him, protected but not ruling. I took my position, hyperaware of how the dress moved with each step, how the silk whispered against skin still oversensitized from our interrupted scene. The collarcaught the light with each breath, impossible to miss, declaring my status to everyone present.
From this vantage, I could see everything. Solmar's jaw working as he ground his teeth at being made to wait. The advocate's portfolio trembling despite his death grip on it. The guards trying to maintain formation while fighting every instinct that said to run. And Scarlet, positioned perfectly to observe everything while seeming to do nothing.
"Lord Solmar," Davoren finally acknowledged, his voice carrying the kind of casual disinterest that was worse than anger. "You've traveled far to intrude upon my evening. I trust you have sufficient reason for breaching the boundaries of my domain."
The words were formal, proper, but underneath them ran harmonics that made the guards shift nervously. This was a dragon speaking to something it considered prey, offering one chance to justify its existence before deciding whether to devour it.
Solmar stepped forward, his arrogance intact despite the oppressive atmosphere. "Lord Davoren," he said, offering the shallowest possible bow that could still be considered respectful. "I come seeking justice for a contract violated and property stolen."
Property.
The word sent fresh fury through the bond, and the magma veins pulsed brighter in response. I kept my expression neutral, but my hands clenched at my sides, the golden lines on my skin flaring with shared anger.
"Indeed?" Davoren's tone suggested this was the most boring thing he'd heard in centuries. "Then present your case, Lord Solmar. Let us see what human justice looks like when it dares to knock on a dragon's door."
Solmar gestured to his advocate with the kind of sharp economy that suggested he'd practiced this moment. The smaller man shuffled forward, his clerk's robes dragging on the volcanic glass with a whisper that seemed thunderous in the waiting silence. His hands shook so badly that he nearly dropped the portfolio twice before managing to extract a rolled parchment bound with red wax and silver ribbon—the official seal of the Western Council's Trade Authority.
"Your Lordship," the advocate began, and his voice cracked on the second syllable. He cleared his throat, tried again. "Your most esteemed Lordship, I present here the lawful and binding marriage contract between Lord Varek Solmar and Lady Kara Lyris, witnessed by the Western Council, sealed by the Trade Authority, and recognized by all human settlements within three hundred miles of the Fire Wastes."
He unrolled the parchment with the reverence of someone handling a holy relic. The contract was everything my father's desperate negotiations had produced—three pages of dense legal text, every clause designed to transfer ownership of me as thoroughly as if I were a shipment of grain. I could see my father's signature at the bottom, dark ink that might as well have been my blood for what it had cost me.
"The terms are explicit," the advocate continued, gaining confidence now that he was in familiar territory of legal recitation. "Lady Lyris was contracted for marriage to Lord Solmar in exchange for assumption of her father's debts, totaling forty-seven thousand silver marks, with additional considerations for trade route access and warehouse privileges. The marriage was to be consummated within one moon of the signing, with provisions for—"
"She fled," Solmar interrupted, his patience with legal formality exhausted. "Abandoned her caravan, left her escorts dead in the Wastes, and sought sanctuary here throughdeception." He stepped forward, careful not to mount the dais but moving close enough to make his point. "Lord Davoren, I respect your authority within your domain, but this contract was signed before she entered your territory. It has precedence. I demand the return of my property."
The golden lines on my skin flared brighter, and I felt Davoren's rage spike through our bond like molten metal poured directly into my veins. But his expression remained carved from stone, only the slight increase in the magma veins' pulsing betraying his fury.
"Your contract," Davoren said, his voice so soft that everyone leaned forward to hear. "May I examine it?"
The advocate looked to Solmar, who nodded with the confidence of someone who'd never lost a legal challenge. The small man climbed just high enough up the dais to extend the parchment toward Davoren, his arm shaking with the effort of reaching across the space.
Davoren didn't take it. He simply extended one finger toward the document, a gesture so casual it might have been dismissive. For a moment, nothing happened. The advocate stood frozen, arm extended, parchment trembling in his grip.
Then the contract erupted.
Golden flames burst from the parchment with such violence that the advocate screamed and fell backward, landing hard on the volcanic glass. But the fire hadn't touched him, hadn't even singed his sleeves. It consumed only the contract, and it did so with prejudice. Every atom of ink and paper transformed to nothing, not even ash remaining. The silver ribbon and red wax vanished as if they'd never existed.
The advocate scrambled backward on hands and knees until he hit Solmar's legs, then cowered there, whimpering. The guards had drawn their weapons halfway before rememberingwhere they were, leaving them frozen in awkward positions of partial aggression.
"Your human contracts," Davoren said, his voice now carrying those harmonics that made the walls vibrate, "hold no authority here."
He rose from the throne with liquid grace, and the entire hall seemed to rise with him. The shadows deepened, the magma flared brighter, and the temperature spiked enough that the guards started visibly sweating through their armor.
"Kara Lyris is my bonded mate," he declared, each word carrying the weight of mountains. "Sealed by a Caretaker Pact under Ancient Law that predates your Western Council by millennia. The bond was completed last night according to rites older than your entire civilization. It supersedes all prior claims, all human contracts, all mortal authorities."
He moved down from the dais, each step deliberate, until he stood close enough to Solmar that the merchant had to crane his neck to maintain eye contact. This close, the size difference was impossible to ignore—Davoren towered over the humans, his presence making them seem like children playing at authority.
