Page 4

FOUR

CASSIAN

T he gates of Drakar Citadel opened like the maw of a dragon—slow, wide, and full of old menace.

Cassian stood just outside the threshold, jaw tight beneath days-old stubble, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He didn’t move when the twin guards flanking the obsidian path narrowed their eyes at him like they were deciding whether he’d bleed red or something else.

Probably figured it’d be goldfire.

Let them wonder.

He stepped through the threshold with all the calm swagger of a man who’d long since accepted that he didn’t belong anywhere—didn’t need to.

The air inside the walls was hotter, the wind tight with ash and sulfur.

Aethermoor may have been the capital, but Drakar was the beating heart of fire itself.

Gold-veined stone towered overhead, laced with flames that pulsed like veins beneath the rock.

Statues of dragons watched from high ledges, their mouths open in warning.

This place, he thought, hasn’t changed in a hundred years. Still built to make bastards like me feel small.

Too bad he didn’t give a damn.

A steward approached—skin pale, robes too clean, voice too clipped.

“Cassian Veyne.”

Cassian didn’t answer.

The man cleared his throat. “You are to be escorted to the war room. Lady Seraphine awaits.”

Lady Seraphine. Of course.

He didn’t correct the title. Just nodded once, slow and sharp, and followed the steward through the inner sanctum.

He passed relic halls filled with dragonbone armor, blood-pacts sealed in glass, and portraits of Drakar heirs with eyes full of fire and faces that could freeze oceans. He’d never liked this House. Too many crowns. Not enough soul.

They reached the chamber, doors carved from obsidian and veined with molten gold. The steward knocked once and scurried off like smoke on wind.

Cassian didn’t wait for a response. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Seraphine Drakar stood with her back to him, arms folded behind her. Her armor shimmered with whitefire along the seams, glowing faintly against her bronze skin. Her hair, dark as scorched embers, was bound in a braid that draped down the center of her back like a blade.

She didn’t turn.

“You’re late,” she said.

Cassian stepped in fully, let the doors close behind him with a sound like a tomb sealing.

“Didn’t realize I was being timed.”

Now she turned. And godsdamn.

She was sharp edges and steady flame. Eyes like gold coins tossed into a fire. Not beautiful in a soft way—no. Beautiful like a storm at sea. A woman who’d been sharpened until she didn’t know how to be anything but steel.

“Veyne,” she said, voice sharp. “I thought you were taller.”

“Wait’ll I’m not standing in a nest of your daddy’s pet guards. Might gain an inch.”

She didn’t smile. But something twitched at the corner of her mouth—amusement or irritation, he couldn’t tell.

Probably both.

“You’re not what I expected,” she said.

“Good.”

“I didn’t say that was a compliment.”

Cassian stepped closer, slow and deliberate. The tension between them coiled tight like drawn bowstrings. The chamber flickered as one of the torches guttered, casting moving shadows across her face.

“I heard you’re the one person mad enough to walk the Hollow’s edge and come back breathing.”

Cassian raised a brow. “You heard wrong. I crawled. Barely. But sure—let’s call it breathing.”

“And I heard you burn with a fire that shouldn’t exist.”

He tilted his head. “You sound curious, Princess.”

“I’m not,” she said, too fast.

That earned a grin. “Liar.”

Seraphine exhaled slowly, the movement making the flames on her armor pulse faintly.

“I don’t care what you are, as long as you can do what I need,” she said. “This mission doesn’t tolerate ego, emotion, or mistakes.”

Cassian chuckled. “You just described House Drakar.”

That landed harder than he expected. Her jaw twitched. Her goldfire eyes dimmed, just for a heartbeat. “We leave at dawn. You’ll meet the rest of the team before we depart for the Skyforged Ruins.”

Cassian nodded once. “Fine. But I pick my own weapons. I don’t care what House-approved trash you’ve got stocked.”

She stepped forward, closing the distance. Just inches now. He could feel her heat—controlled, dangerous, just like the woman herself.

“Don’t confuse your leash for freedom,” she said, voice low. “You may not bow to Drakar, but on this mission, you follow my orders. Or I burn you down before the Hollow gets the chance.”

Cassian leaned in, voice a rasp. “Careful. Threats from pretty mouths can turn into promises.”

Seraphine blinked—and for just a second, something flickered in her eyes.

Interest? No. No, don’t be stupid.

This woman wouldn’t be caught dead craving someone like him.

She stepped back first. “You’ll sleep in the east wing tonight. Guard rotation will be given to you shortly. Try not to start any fires. Yet.”

Cassian watched her walk toward the desk. She moved like she carried the weight of dynasties. Like she’d never been allowed to falter.

Something inside him—long buried, long snarling—stirred.

Pity? No.

Respect? Maybe.

Damn.

She didn’t turn again. Just said over her shoulder, “You’ll do, Veyne. Try not to get yourself killed.”

Cassian smiled, just a little.

“No promises, Princess.” Then I left.