Page 35

MIRA

I wake to a morning drenched in a low-hanging fog, the kind that wraps around every thought and doesn’t let go.

My small window admits only gray light, as if the sun itself hesitates to illuminate this day.

The estate feels subdued. Even the birds are quieter than usual.

I dress mechanically, muscle memory guiding my fingers as I tie my tunic.

My head is cluttered with worries: the council, Lady Velna’s arrival, and Vahziryn’s struggle to shield us from threats on all sides.

I can’t help thinking about how determined he seemed the last time we spoke—like he’d tear down centuries of tradition if that was the price of keeping me safe.

Yet a persistent dread coils in my chest: powerful forces are circling us.

The council remains suspicious, and Velna’s blackmail tightens around us like a noose.

Leaving my quarters, I move through the corridors with a weariness that’s become second nature.

Staff members pass in subdued clusters, their voices muted.

Since the council scouts departed, tension hums beneath the surface of every interaction.

Some of the naga guards glance my way, pity threading their eyes, while humans avert their faces, as if fearing I’m a reminder of what befalls those who draw a warlord’s gaze.

I head to the kitchens, thinking I’ll busy myself with menial tasks. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables might offer an anchor, something to quiet the storm in my thoughts. But before I reach the archway, a familiar voice stops me.

“Mira,” Crick says, emerging from a side corridor. His mismatched scales catch the glow of nearby lamps, and a half-smile tugs at his lips, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We need to talk.”

My pulse stutters. “What’s happened?”

He leans closer, keeping his voice low. “The warlord has been in conference with Velna again. I overheard snatches of conversation—she’s pressing him for a decision about endorsing her in the nest faction. He’s stalling, but she’s tightening the screws.”

Anxiety prickles my skin. “What can he do?”

Crick’s jaw flexes. “Not much, unless he’s prepared to wage open war with her. She’s holding the council’s favor hostage, threatening to expose your bond.” His gaze flicks over me. “I don’t trust her not to strike soon.”

I swallow, a hollow ache opening in my gut. “Thanks for telling me.”

He nods, voice rough with sympathy. “He’s caught in a web. And so are you.”

With that, he heads off, leaving me more unsettled than before.

The idea of Velna wrestling Vahziryn into compliance churns my stomach.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve seen the toll of these threats.

Despite our attempts at closeness, a tension pulls him in too many directions. I fear something is about to snap.

Trying to steady myself, I enter the kitchens.

The cook is fussing over a pot of stew, and a few human servants chop onions at a long table.

They cast me cautious glances, but I focus on grabbing a knife and sinking it into a squash.

Let them whisper if they must. My mind throbs with Crick’s warning anyway.

I chop vegetables in an almost robotic rhythm, ignoring the sting of onion fumes.

Yet the sense of impending crisis gnaws at me.

Memories of recent nights swirl Vahziryn’s coil around my waist, the quiet vow in his voice that we’d endure no matter what.

We’ve fought so hard, but the forces arrayed against us are formidable.

Abruptly, the cook addresses me, voice terse: “Go fetch more carrots from storage.”

I nod, setting aside the knife. My head aches, a dull throb at my temple. Nausea swirls unexpectedly, forcing me to pause. Maybe it’s hunger, or the stress devouring me from inside out. Pushing it down, I carry on.

In the storage room, I gather carrots in a basket, feeling a dizzy wave. The dark space spins for a moment, and I brace myself against a shelf. A cold sweat beads on my brow. I breathe carefully until the dizziness subsides, chalking it up to exhaustion and too many worries.

By midday, I finish my chores and step out into a quiet corridor, thinking I might rest for a minute in the greenhouse. But I freeze at the sight of Vahziryn standing at the far end, tail lowered, arms folded. Tension radiates from him like a palpable heat.

He sees me and inclines his head, gesturing for me to follow.

No words. Worry flares. I fall into step behind him, ignoring the prickle of watchful eyes from a pair of naga staff near the entrance.

We wind through the estate until we reach a seldom-used courtyard near the southeast corner.

It’s an enclosed space, moss creeping along the walls, a single bench overshadowed by a leaning palm tree.

Here, no one lingers. He stops, and I sense the charged hush in the air.

I come to a halt, nerves rattling. His face is drawn, cheekbones sharp under the grayish light filtering through the clouds. Black scales line his arms, glinting faintly. He doesn’t speak for several heartbeats, tail curling with restless agitation.

“Velna has given me an ultimatum,” he finally says, voice low and raw. “Support her claim in the nest dispute or she reveals everything to the council—about us.”

A pang stabs my chest. “I suspected as much.” My gaze flickers over his posture, noticing how rigid he stands. “Do you have a plan?”

His eyes flash with suppressed torment. “Plan? I’m torn between refusing and risking war, or yielding and losing my dignity.

Neither option spares you if the council decides I’ve broken their sacred laws.

” He exhales, anguish twisting his features.

“I can’t see a path that ensures you stay unscathed. ”

My stomach churns. “You told me we’d face this together.” The words emerge gentler than I intend, an aching reminder of our vow.

His tail lashes once, a sharp movement. “Together,” he echoes bitterly, turning away. “We tried, but they tighten the net. If I remain stubborn, Velna tears our secret open. You get branded as tainted property. The council might drag you off, or punish you in ways I can’t prevent.”

I step closer, pressing a hand to his arm. He flinches, then forces himself to still. “What are you saying?” I whisper, heart pounding.

He pulls away, stepping out of reach, tail coiling around him like a shield. “I... I can’t let that happen. I won’t see you destroyed because you trusted me.” His voice trembles, though his face sets in a cold mask. “So I have to remove you from the equation.”

My throat constricts. “Remove me?”

He meets my gaze, eyes filled with a tumult of sorrow and determination. “I’m releasing you from my domain. Setting you free.” Each word sounds like it costs him blood. “Take whatever possessions you have, gather food. I’ll arrange safe passage out of these lands.”

My chest tightens in panic. “You want me to leave?”

He nods stiffly, arms crossing over his broad chest. “Yes. For your own safety. Once you’re gone, Velna loses her main bargaining chip. The council no longer has a direct target in my estate. If they come, I can weather their scrutiny alone.”

Shock flares, mingling with disbelief that he’s saying this after everything we fought to keep. “But we— I... you said?—”

His throat works, as though it hurts to speak. “I know what I said. But look at the reality. The council will never relent, and Velna’s threats won’t vanish unless I sever what ties me to you. If you stay, you face ruin or worse.”

My hand trembles at my side. Anguish smolders behind my ribs. “So your solution is to cast me out?”

He grimaces, tail thrashing in frustration. “Better to let you go now than watch them tear you away by force. At least this way, you leave on your own terms.”

A hollow ache blooms in my chest, so intense I can hardly breathe. “Then everything we shared... was it nothing?” My voice shakes, tears threatening to spill.

He flinches as though struck, but his expression hardens. “This is the only way I see to protect you,” he murmurs, forcing an edge of coldness. “I’ll ensure you have enough coins and supplies to survive. No one will harm you once you’re outside my territory.”

I swallow thickly, dizziness creeping in again, possibly from heartbreak. “You think being exiled alone is safer than standing with you?”

His gaze flicks away. “If you remain, you risk the council’s wrath. I’m done gambling with your life.”

The courtyard walls press in, suffocating me. My hands ball into fists at my sides. “But you’re gambling with my heart,” I manage, voice breaking. “You offered me safety, closeness, then push me away to face the world alone.”

He closes his eyes, tension lining his jaw. “It’s better than seeing your name on a council order for execution or enslavement.” Each word emerges stiff, brittle with pain. “I can’t lose you that way.”

My eyes fill with tears, but I refuse to let them fall. My chest aches so fiercely I can hardly think. “So you’re throwing me away.” The statement feels like shattered glass on my tongue.

He presses a clawed hand over his face, as though fighting for composure. “Call it what you will. If leaving spares you from this nightmare, then I’ll play the villain who drives you out.”

I stare at him, at the man—no, the naga—who once swore he’d stand against everything for my sake. Now he chooses this. A fury wells behind my sorrow. “You’re a fool,” I whisper, tears burning my cheeks. “But I’ll go if that’s what you truly want.”

His tail coils tighter, as though he restrains himself from pulling me back. “I can’t see another way,” he murmurs, voice hollow. “Take the chance to escape the council’s crosshairs.”