Page 35 of Davoren
"The jewelry stall," I murmured, quiet enough that only he could hear. "May I?"
His eyes tracked to where I indicated, and through the bond I felt his assessment—distance from us, potential threats, escape routes. Then he nodded, his hand sliding from my back with obvious reluctance.
"Stay where I can see you," he said, the words carrying enough command that my body responded with a yes before my mind could form opinions.
I moved through the crowd toward the stall, feeling Davoren's attention on me like a physical weight even as he continued the formal exchange with the elders. The vendor looked up as I approached, and her eyes went impossibly wide as she took in the collar, the marks, the obvious wealth of my dress.
"My lady," she stammered, immediately beginning to bow.
"Please don't," I said quickly, embarrassed by the deference. "Your work is beautiful. Is this truly crystallized lava?"
The temperature dropped like a stone through water, so sudden and wrong that my transformed body recoiled before my mind could process the threat. One moment I was admiring a pendant of crystallized lava that looked like frozen flame, the next hands seized my arms with grip strength that spoke of training and purpose. The vendor's eyes went wide with terror, but not at me—at something behind me that made her stumble backward into her display, sending jewelry cascading across volcanic stone.
They moved with military precision, three men who materialized from the crowd like shadows given substance. Before I could scream, before I could even think to scream, they were dragging me backward into an alley I hadn't noticed, one of those narrow spaces between buildings where the festival light didn't reach.
The alley was barely six feet wide, walls of smooth volcanic glass rising up toward a slice of night sky. Festival sounds became muffled, distant, as if the space itself had been designed to swallow sound. My captors' faces were obscured by deep hoods, but I caught glimpses—pale skin that seemed to gleam with its own inner frost, eyes so light blue they looked almost white, breath that misted in air that should have been warm from the mountain's heat.
Then one of them pressed something against my throat, right beside my collar, and my world exploded into ice.
Not cold—I'd felt cold before, even in my transformed state. This was something else entirely, something that shouldn't exist in a volcanic city at the base of a fire mountain. It was ice given malevolent intent, frost magic concentrated into a shard no bigger than my thumb that sent frozen lightning through every nerve. The sensation was so alien to my fire-transformed body that for a moment I couldn't even process it as pain—it was wrongness made physical, an violation of everything I'd become.
But worse than the cold was what it did to the bond.
The connection to Davoren didn't sever—that would have killed us both—but it muffled, like someone had wrapped it in layers of frozen wool. I could still feel him there, could sense his presence, but when I reached for him through our link it was like screaming underwater. Distorted. Diminished. The panic that had been building erupted into full terror as I realized he might not even know I was in danger.
"Hold her steady," one of the attackers said, his accent carrying the clipped consonants of the northern territories. "The artifact won't last long in this heat."
The one holding the ice shard pressed it harder against my throat, and I felt my golden marks dim in response, their light fighting against the invasive cold. My enhanced body was trying to burn through the interference, to generate enough heat to destroy the artifact, but it was like trying to light a fire while submerged in arctic water.
"Our master will be pleased," another said, and I could hear the smile in his voice even though his hood hid his features. "The Fire Lord's new pet, delivered as requested."
Pet. The word cut through my panic with surgical precision, igniting fury that had nothing to do with dragon fire and everything to do with my own rage. Through the muffled bond, I felt Davoren's sudden alertness—not full awareness, but a sensethat something was wrong, like hearing your name called from very far away.
"Look at these marks," the third attacker said, reaching for my arm where the golden lines spiraled in patterns that told the story of my transformation. His fingers were ice-cold even through his gloves, leaving trails of frost on my skin that my body immediately fought to burn away. "She's been completely changed. No longer human at all."
"Good," the first one said. "Makes her more valuable."
I tried to scream for Davoren through the bond, throwing everything I had against the muffled connection. It was like punching through molasses, each attempt taking enormous effort for minimal result. I could feel him searching now, his awareness sweeping through the festival, but the ice magic scattered his attention, made it slide past my location without catching.
"Get the collar off," the leader commanded. "It's the physical anchor for the bond. Without it, she'll be easier to transport."
The one not holding me or the ice shard reached for my throat, fingers going for the dragon-scale collar that had become as much a part of me as my own skin. The touch of his frozen fingers against the warm scales sent revulsion through me so strong it nearly made me vomit.
"Daddy," I whispered, the word barely audible, a child's plea for protection that I couldn't help even though I knew he couldn't hear it properly through the muffled bond. "Please."
The attacker's fingers found the clasp, those tiny dragons biting their own tails that Davoren had fastened with such ceremony. The man cursed as the metal burned his fingers even through his gloves—the collar defending itself, loyal to its purpose—but he didn't stop reaching for it.
That's when something shifted in my chest. Not the bond—that remained muffled, distant, struggling against the icemagic's interference. This was something else, something that belonged entirely to me. The realization came with the clarity of lightning:
I was not a pet.
I was not a prize.
I was not merchandise to be stolen and traded.
I was the Dragon Lord's mate, transformed in the heart of a volcano, claimed in a nest of crystallized flame under stars that had witnessed the birth of the world. I had taken him inside me where the mountain touched the sky, had shattered and been remade, had walked through dragon paths that would kill ordinary humans. The golden marks on my skin weren't decorations—they were proof of what I'd become.
And what I'd become didn't need Daddy to save her.
