Page 23 of Beneath Scales and Shadows (Lost Lunas of Artania #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

SORA

Sora’s head throbbed as she and Ignis left the council chamber, the lingering voices of dissenters and doubters still ringing in her ears. Five hours of debate, and they had nothing to show for it—other than a frustrating dinner.

Each of their allies—their neighbors—needed more time to gather their armies.

Time they didn’t have—not with Ember’s frantic confirmation that she could barely feel Coal anymore. That’s why they were leaving at dawn.

And the wulfkin of Ilunthar had outright refused, claiming their territory needed protection now more than ever—they had a civil war amongst themselves.

“That could have gone better,” she muttered, adjusting her tunic where it brushed against the ruby scale embedded in her side—a permanent reminder of how close she’d come to death. The blood bond with Ignis thrummed with his frustration, a low simmer that matched her own.

Ignis’s wing curled protectively behind her as they walked, not quite touching but close enough that she felt its heat. “But we were able to form a plan.”

“Politics.” She nearly spat the word. “While Coal suffers, they would rather debate whether we should wait the three days or leave tomorrow as planned.”

The crystal-lined corridors of the mountain stronghold pulsed with their shared agitation. Clan members they passed lowered their eyes respectfully, but she caught their worried glances, the weight of their expectations settling on her shoulders like stone.

They’d started calling her “queen” when they thought she couldn’t hear. The title felt wrong, unearned—yet with each passing day, she found herself stepping further into the role. Strange how quickly she’d accepted this new reality, this connection to a world she’d never known existed before.

“We’re on our own then,” she said as they reached their shared chambers. “We’ll have to come up with a plan ourselves and then tell everyone.”

Ignis pushed open the door, his tail flicking with barely contained anger. “Our forces remain strong despite our losses. We can mount a rescue without allies, especially if we take the prince’s offer.”

“At what cost?” Sora moved to the balcony, watching the clan’s activity in the central cavern below. Dragons in various forms—full draconic, dragoon, and human—going about their duties, preparing for conflict none of them had chosen. “How many more will be injured? Killed?”

“What would you have me do?” Ignis’s voice softened as he joined her, standing close enough that his heat enveloped her. “Abandon Coal to torture and death?”

“Of course not.” She shook her head, turning to face him as her hand found his—scaled and warm—without hesitation. Their fingers intertwined naturally now, as if they’d been doing this for years. “But we need to be smarter than they expect, like letting me bait them if you don’t want to take the prince’s offer.”

His crimson eyes darkened. “No.”

“I wasn’t asking permission. I refuse to be left behind.” She held his gaze, unwilling to be intimidated by his alpha posturing. “Coal is suffering because of me. Because I exist—because I represent everything Celestoria fears.”

Through their bond, she felt his protective instincts surge, battling with his tactical mind. The resulting conflict sent waves of frustration rippling between them.

“You nearly died at the northern pass,” he growled, his free hand rising to trace the curve of her cheek with unexpected tenderness. “I won’t risk you again.”

“That choice isn’t yours to make.” She leaned into his touch despite her defiance. “This bond between us goes both ways, Ignis. I feel what you feel—including your guilt about Coal. Your fear for your clan.”

A scout approached the balcony entrance, hesitating when he saw them standing so close. The young beta dragon cleared his throat awkwardly.

“My king, my queen—”

“I’m not—” Sora began automatically, then stopped herself. The title still felt uncomfortable, but now wasn’t the time to correct him.

“Speak,” Ignis commanded, not moving away from her.

“Ember requests your presence in the east guest chambers. The prince has information he will share only with you both.”

Ignis’s wing twitched with annoyance. “Tell her we’ll arrive shortly.”

When the scout departed, Sora stepped away from the balcony rail, moving to the ornate chest where her clothes were stored. She selected a simple tunic and leggings appropriate for meeting royalty, even captive royalty.

“You think the prince is playing us,” she observed, sensing Ignis’s skepticism through their bond.

“Humans lie when cornered,” he replied, watching as she changed without any hint of embarrassment. The blood bond had eliminated such trivial concerns between them. “And Celestorian royals lie as naturally as they breathe.”

“Perhaps.” She fastened the silver clasps of her tunic, designed to accommodate the scales spreading across her collarbones and shoulders. “But desperation makes for strange allies. And Prince Markth seems to genuinely wants change.”

“Fear doesn’t equate to trustworthiness.”

“No, but it does make him predictable.” She pulled her hair back, securing it with a silver clasp that matched her increasingly prominent scales. “We can use that.”

The eastern guest chambers felt warmer than the rest of the mountain stronghold, heated by a different set of geothermal vents. As they approached, Sora caught snippets of conversation that halted abruptly at their arrival.

Ember stood outside the prince’s door, her posture rigid despite the exhaustion evident in her face. The bandage on her shoulder had been recently changed—at least she’d taken that advice. Her amber eyes brightened when she saw them, though the haunted shadow behind them remained.

“My king, Luna.” She bowed formally. “The prince claims to have information about Coal’s location and condition.”

Sora stepped forward. “Have you verified any of it?”

“Some details align with what our scouts report...” Ember’s scarred lip curled slightly. “But I know better to blindly hope he wants change.”

“Let’s hear him out,” Ignis decided, pushing the door open without knocking. “Why else would he summon us so soon?”

Prince Markth paced the chamber, his fine clothes rumpled from captivity. He spun toward them as they entered, relief flashing across his features despite his obvious tension.

“You came.” He straightened his posture, attempting to regain some royal dignity. “I wasn’t sure you would after this morning.”

“Speak,” Ignis commanded, his tail lashing behind him. “It’s been a long day and Ember says you have information about Coal that may help us with our plans.”

“Yes, I wanted to make sure you were prepared for whatever mission you were about to disembark on with all the information I could provide you.” The prince moved to a small table where maps had been spread out. “Your spy is being held in the eastern dungeon—not the regular prison cells, but a special section my sister had converted for her... experiments.”

Sora approached the table, studying the castle layout. “These are remarkably detailed.”

“I’ve had twenty-seven years to memorize every passage and chamber,” the prince replied. “Including the ones my family doesn’t want outsiders to know about.”

“What are they doing to Coal?” she asked quietly, tapping her finger on the eastern dungeon on the map.

The prince’s expression darkened. “The essence extraction is... methodical. They leave only enough each day to keep him alive for the next. The process is designed to last weeks.”

Ember growled from her position by the door, the sound visceral with pain. “Why? What could they possibly gain by prolonging it?”

“Potency,” the prince answered, unable to meet her eyes. “The shadow alchemists discovered that essence harvested from conscious, suffering subjects yields more powerful results. The weapons are stronger, the corruption deeper.”

Sora’s stomach churned. Through their bond, she felt Ignis’s rage building, threatening to consume rational thought.

“So, to confirm before we make any agreements with you, you want us to help you usurp the throne,” Ignis summarized, wings shifting with skepticism. “In exchange for peace?”

“Like you, I want to restore balance to Celestoria,” the prince insisted. “End the harvesting. Withdraw forces from dragon territories. Return to the old ways of coexistence.”

Sora studied him, searching for deception. After years of evaluating historical accounts for authenticity, she’d developed a keen sense for inconsistencies. The prince’s story contained none of the telltale signs of fabrication—no convenient gaps, no overly perfect explanations.

Sora exchanged a glance with Ignis, their bond humming with shared assessment. The prince was terrified but sincere—whether that sincerity would last beyond his immediate danger remained uncertain.

“We’ll accept your offer,” she said finally. “In the meantime, continue detailing everything you know about Coal’s imprisonment, and whoever else they have captured. We’ll use it in our plans to extract everyone.”

They left the prince with Ember watching over him, moving silently through the corridors toward their chambers. Sora could feel Ignis processing the information, weighing options, calculating risks.

“You believe him,” he observed, not a question but an acknowledgment of what he sensed through their bond.

“I believe he’s terrified of his sister’s plans,” she clarified. “And of us. Fear makes for unreliable alliances but useful temporary arrangements. He would be foolish to betray us.”

“His knowledge of the castle could prove invaluable,” Ignis admitted as they reached their chambers. “But trusting a Celestorian royal feels like embracing a venomous serpent.”

“Which couldn’t hurt you,” Sora pointed out. “How could a snake bite through your scales?”

“Fine.” He gave her a playful look, eyes glinting with mischief. “It’s like sharing a bed with a human.”

“Hey!” Sora gasped, giving him a playful shove. “I’ll make you eat those words.”

She darted into the bathing chamber, tossing a playful glare over her shoulder.

She couldn’t wait to wash away the tension of the day. The hot springs beckoned with their mineral-rich waters and soothing steam. She shed her clothes without hesitation, aware of Ignis watching from the doorway.

“We don’t have to trust him,” she said, sinking into the steaming pool with a small sigh of relief. “We just have to use him. Once this is over, you can decide what you want to do with them.”

Ignis joined her, his scaled form displacing water as he settled onto the submerged ledge. “The risk remains considerable but it’s not like we have any other choice,” he said, wings creating gentle currents in the pool. “Especially if you still insist on being part of the rescue.”

“I’m not asking to lead the charge,” she countered, moving closer until their legs brushed beneath the water. “I’m also not foolish enough to believe I could, but I have skills you need. I worked in the castle, and have this body’s memories. I understand human tactics, castle architecture, guard psychology. I can help plan this properly.”

His tail curled around her underwater, the contact sending pleasant shivers up her spine. “Your tactical mind is not in question,” he conceded. “But the thought of you anywhere near that castle again...”

The water lapped against her collarbone as she shifted to face him directly. “I chose this,” she reminded him, reaching up to trace the scales along his jaw. “I chose you. That means standing beside you, not being protected like some fragile treasure .”

His crimson eyes darkened at the word as he caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm that sent heat coursing through her veins. “You are my treasure,” he rumbled. “The most precious thing in my hoard.”

She leaned into his embrace. “Tomorrow, we’ll use our connection as insurance.”

“How?”

A plan began forming in her mind—dangerous, audacious, but possible. “They want me alone, separated from you. That’s their first mistake.”

Through their blood bond, she felt his understanding dawn, followed by reluctant admiration for her strategy. “The blood bond,” he murmured. “They don’t know.”

“They don’t know,” she confirmed, a fierce smile curving her lips. “And that gives us an advantage they can’t anticipate.”

“If you insist on facing this danger, then let me protect you the only way I can.” His voice rumbled with emotion. “Let me mark you, and I won’t stop you from coming with us.”

Sora hesitated, understanding flooding through her as his meaning became clear. The mark—something profoundly significant beyond mere symbolism. She’d read about it in the ancient texts, seen illustrations depicting the sacred bonding between dragon and mate.

“The mark...” she whispered, “it’s permanent too, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his crimson eyes holding hers with unwavering intensity. “It forges a bond nothing can break—not distance, not magic, not death itself.” His tail curled tighter around her, a physical manifestation of his protective instinct. “I will always know if you’re in danger. Always be able to find you.”

Heat pooled in her core at the possessive edge in his voice, but uncertainty still gnawed at her. This was no small thing he offered—something more than a blood bond.

A current of longing surged through her—that she belonged with him, to him, as he belonged to her.

“Will it hurt?” she asked, fingers tracing the now-permanent silver scales adorning her forearm.

“Yes,” he admitted, the honesty in his gaze unwavering. “But only for a moment.”

She swallowed, considering the weight of this choice. Coal remained imprisoned, suffering torment that grew worse with each passing hour. What was physical pain compared to his suffering? She was already permanently bonded to him via their blood bond, this would just be another layer.

Yet beneath those noble justifications lurked something more selfish, more primal—a desire to be claimed, to be his in ways that transcended the prophecy’s demands or political alliances.

This was different—this time, the mark would be hers to choose. Not like the blood bond, not like the choice Ignis made for her when he saved her.

“Do it,” she said, voice steadier than she expected. “Mark me.”

Ignis’s pupils expanded until only thin rings of crimson remained. His wing curled around her, creating a sanctuary of shadow and warmth as he lowered his head to her level.

“This requires blood,” he explained, his voice dropping to a register that sent shivers along her spine. “Mine and yours, mingling at the moment the mark is made.”

He extended one taloned finger, pricking the pad of his thumb. Dark red blood—almost black in the dim light—welled from the small wound. The scent hit her with unexpected potency, metallic yet somehow sweet, calling to the dragon blood awakening in her veins.

“Come,” he urged, one hand extended in invitation.

Sora moved without conscious thought, drawn to him with magnetic inevitability. She tilted her head, exposing the junction where neck met shoulder—an instinctive gesture she hadn’t known she possessed until this moment.

His heated breath ghosted over her skin as he leaned in, voice a low growl that rumbled through her bones. “Mine.”

Then his teeth—pointed and unforgiving—sank into her flesh.

Pain hit first—sharp, electric, blinding. She gasped, her body arching against his, fingers gripping his scaled shoulders as sensation rippled through her like a storm.

He didn’t release her. Instead, he slid his hand up, thumb pressing gently but firmly past her parted lips. She took him instinctively, the pad of his thumb resting on her tongue, grounding her even as everything else unraveled.

His blood mingled with hers at the puncture site—hot, potent, alive . She tasted it a heartbeat later, drawn to the source like it was the only thing that could quiet the chaos inside her.

The first pull was hesitant. The second, desperate.

It flooded her senses—rich, ancient, intoxicating. Power and heat and something unmistakably him . Her mind blurred, pleasure and pain folding into one another, until there was only the bond and the taste of him on her tongue.

Ignis’s consciousness brushed against hers—not with words but with raw emotion. Possession. Protection. Pride. Need. The barriers between them thinned, allowing glimpses of a connection deeper than physical joining.

When he finally withdrew, she slumped against him, trembling with aftershocks that rippled through her body in waves. She touched the mark, the raised skin hot beneath her fingers. When she pulled her fingers away, they came back tinged with blood—both hers and his, indistinguishable now.

“It’s done,” he whispered, voice roughened with emotion. His forked tongue gently lapped at the mark, cleansing it with meticulous care. Each stroke sent renewed shivers through her body, the area hypersensitive to his touch.

Through their newly deepened bond, she sensed his satisfaction—and beneath it, a vulnerability that surprised her. For all his power, this ancient being had given her something precious, something that could wound him as deeply as it strengthened him.

“Now,” he murmured against her skin, “you are truly mine. And I am yours.”

The reality of what they’d done settled over her—not with regret but with solemn understanding. Whatever came next, they were bound beyond separation. Whatever Celestoria planned, they would face it connected in ways the royal family couldn’t anticipate.

Exhaustion swept through her suddenly, the ritual’s demands on her body combining with the day’s emotional toll. Ignis sensed it immediately, gathering her against his chest with gentle strength.

“Sleep,” he commanded softly. “Tomorrow brings challenges enough.”

She moved instinctively, gathering blankets and creating a makeshift nest within the protective circle of his forearms. The compulsion would have seemed strange days ago—this need to burrow close to his warmth, to surround herself with his scent. Now it felt natural, necessary.

As she settled against the smooth ruby scales of his chest, she marveled at how right it felt—how quickly impossibility had become inevitability.

His wing draped over her like a living blanket, creating a sanctuary of shadow and warmth against the chill mountain air. The steady rhythm of his twin hearts beat against her cheek, lulling her toward sleep with hypnotic regularity.

“We leave at dawn?” she murmured, fighting to keep her eyes open.

“Yes.” His voice rumbled through his chest beneath her ear. “Rest while you can.”

She nodded, fingers tracing idle patterns across his scales. The mark at her shoulder throbbed with pleasant heat, a constant reminder of their connection. Through it, she sensed his vigilance—his determination to keep her safe despite the danger they would soon face.

His snout nuzzled gently against her hair, inhaling her scent as though committing it to memory. “My queen,” he confessed, the words rumbling deep in his chest. “Since the moment I sensed you, I have craved to be yours.”

The naked vulnerability in his admission melted something within her. She reached up, touching his scaled face with reverent tenderness, pressing her forehead to his in a gesture that felt ancient and sacred.

“When we return...” she whispered, the promise forming itself as she spoke, “let’s explore whatever this is between us.”

His forearms tightened around her, tail curling more securely at her feet. Through their newly formed bond, she felt his joy—fierce and mighty—followed by a rush of protective determination so potent it stole her breath.

As sleep claimed her, one final thought formed with perfect clarity: whatever came tomorrow, whatever traps Celestoria had laid within their castle, they would face it together—dragon and human, alpha and omega, king and queen.

Bound not by prophecy or fate, but by choice.