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I’m led down a dimly lit corridor. The flickering torches cast eerie shadows along the stone walls. My heart slams in my chest as the guards push me forward. Z’leni walks silently at my side, every step exuding that unnerving calm.

Finally, after winding through narrow passageways, they stop at a smaller chamber. The door creaks open to reveal a dark space. Z’leni waves a hand, and the guards nod before leaving us alone. The door clicks shut. The silence stretches, pressing on me.

“You didn’t have to stop them,” I manage, voice strained.

He turns slowly, arms crossed over his chest. His horns catch the torch light, casting long, predatory shadows.

“Didn’t I?” he says, voice low. His hand brushes the doorframe — a casual touch, but it feels like he’s claiming the space between us.

I should be grateful, relieved, but confusion swirls, tangled with a flickering spark of resentment. I’m used to fending for myself, yet… seeing him speak against the Maulavi, seeing him step between me and pain, makes something inside me stir. Not warmth, exactly. Something sharper.

“You can’t protect me forever,” I whisper.

“Perhaps not,” he says, narrowing his dark eyes. “But I will protect what I must.”

There’s something pointed in his words.

“Why?” I ask, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.

His jaw flexes. He moves closer, each step deliberate, until he’s only a breath away. I feel the heat radiating from him, smell the sharp scent of steel and earth.

“Because you are not theirs,” he says simply.

My breath catches.

“You think I’m yours?” I challenge.

Something flickers in his eyes—pride, possession, frustration—but before he can answer, the echo of the Zmaj’s roar from the other chamber crashes through my thoughts like a wave. Z’leni notices. His gaze hardens, jaw tightening.

“He will die for you,” he says flatly. “But his death won’t save you.”

My heart hammers louder. There is something in his words. Something I can’t quite put my finger on because it can’t be what it seems to be. Can it?

Between them, something is brewing. A rivalry I can’t believe is true, but I feel it. The way Z’leni positions himself close, protective yet territorial. The way the Zmaj’s every action screams that I am his to save.

And me? I’m caught between them, emotions a snarl of gratitude, fear… and something dangerously close to longing. I take a step back. Z’leni lets me, but his eyes follow every movement.

“You should rest,” he says, voice gentler but no less possessive. “You’ll need your strength.”

Some broken, desperate part of me wants to lean into him. Another part remembers the cage door slamming shut behind me. Neither side wins. Not yet.

I retreat further into the chamber, but my heart is tangled in the dark threads connecting the three of us.

And in that moment, I know nothing will ever be simple again.

10

RANI

he Zmaj arena hums with restless energy, a low vibration that thrums against my skin like the prelude to a storm. The scent of burning pitch from the torches set into the walls mingles with the distinct musk of the gathered warriors. Hundreds of Zmaj, elders, warriors, and even the humans are gathered on the sandy floor, all of them watching and waiting.

I stand beside the Al’fa, my head high despite the sensation of a thousand blades piercing me from every pair of eyes. Every glance cuts deeper than the last, but I refuse to flinch. The weight of their hatred presses against my chest, thick and suffocating.

And yet, I endure.

Khiara and Dilacs stand close enough that their fists brush against my sides, a silent vow. They would shield me with their bodies if they could. Their tension radiates with a heat of its own. The occasional, barely suppressed, growl is the smallest sign that they are not happy. I’m exposed and they don’t like it. I don’t either, but this is what it is.

The Al’fa speaks, his voice steady and deep, reverberating through the cavern like a command from the gods themselves.