Page 8 of Echoes of Fire (Drakarn Mates #2)

SEVEN

RATH

The Blade Council’s private chambers were near-silent, punctuated only by my claws drumming against the polished table. The room was cavernous and foreboding. No flames burned in the sconces—just the cool glow of heat crystals embedded in ancient walls. Normally, I found purpose in the hush, its weight sharpening thought and honing words. But now, all I could focus on were the whispers.

“… your bond is a disgrace …”

Krazath’s taunt clung to me, acid and unshakable. The effort it took not to rip his throat out still thrummed in my veins. I’d lost my temper before, but never so closely to losing full control. The memory of Orla’s voice cutting through that red haze—steady, soft—kept me from digging my claws into the stone right now.

“If you scowl any harder, Rath, your face might stick that way.”

Vyne’s voice shattered the silence. He reclined in his chair, green scales catching the dim light. That smirk of his was always too wide, the gleam in his gaze constantly daring someone to test him.

“Careful,” I warned. “You might tempt me to see how quick you really are.”

His smirk only grew. “Bold words. Aren’t mates supposed to mellow old warriors? You sure you shouldn’t be off romancing your human instead of sulking like a fledgling?”

Heat crawled into my chest, roughening my tone. “And what would you know about mates, besides imaginary ones you put into terrible poems?”

A loud crack cut me off—Khorlar’s fist crashing down on the table. His granite-gray scales looked dull, but that glare of his had enough force to still anyone.

“Enough,” he said, voice like grinding stone. “If you wish to quarrel, do it elsewhere.”

Vyne raised his hands in mock surrender, though mischief still danced in his eyes. I tamped down my anger with effort. He wasn’t entirely wrong—my mind had been wandering all morning, and I hated that fact.

Darrokar finally spoke from the head of the table, where he’d sat in silent observation. Faint red pulses played across his black scales as he tapped his claws on the armrest. His voice held the weight of both his status and his role as my oldest ally and friend.

“We don’t have time for squabbles,” he said. “Your bond with Orla has thrown the council off-balance. Half see it as a betrayal of our ways. The others view it as proof of your strength in taming a wild creature. Either way, the whispers aren’t stopping.”

I bared my teeth, the tension building in my chest. “Let them whisper. Krazath, Karyseth—whoever challenges me will regret it. Besides, you have a human mate. They accepted her.”

Darrokar’s brow arched. “You’ve already nearly taken Krazath’s head off, if the rumors are accurate. News of that is everywhere. And as for my mate, you were out on scout duty when I made my case. This new match has reignited all the resistance I faced.”

Khorlar folded his broad arms, drawing my attention. “He’s right. You may not have killed Krazath, but you almost did—and that’s enough to stir trouble.”

My anger flared again. “I won’t hold back if someone threatens my mate. And Krazath is telling tales. I barely touched him.”

“Be that as it may,” Khorlar said calmly. “Your actions have fallout. Krazath is nobody, but his allies wait for you to lose control.”

Every detail of last night was etched into my mind: Krazath cornering Orla, how her fear laced the air, how rage nearly consumed me. Only her voice had kept me from ripping his throat out.

Darrokar’s deep tones cut in, “You’re on a blade’s edge, Rath. The council was wary enough of letting the humans stay. There are plenty who respect the Forge more than you, even if they are not adherents.”

I usually would have argued, but Darrokar’s words held too much truth to dismiss. I could feel the weight of them like a blade pressed to my neck.

“I will not let her go,” I said, voice edged.

“Of course not,” Darrokar snapped. “You need to be smarter. You built your place here through victories; win this battle the same way.”

Khorlar nodded. “The people remember your strength in the River Trials, and how we took care of those lava beasts the Narvix tried to unleash on us. You can sway opinions, but not if you act like a mindless brute whenever your mate’s involved.”

I hated agreeing with them, but a seasoned part of my mind recognized the logic. The fire inside me, though—the one that began the moment Orla entered my life—raged at the thought of placating anyone who’d undermine her.

Vyne’s drawl cut in again. “Maybe spend a little less time in bed with her and a little more time proving you’re not going soft.”

I shot him a glare that made his grin waver. He would never stop laughing if he knew I did all of this for a mate I had yet to even kiss. One taste had made me this .

When she finally opened herself fully to me …

I couldn’t think of that here, especially not now.

Darrokar rose, his towering shape casting a long shadow. “No one doubts a bonded warrior who makes his mate’s protection part of his strength,” he said, “but you must prove it isn’t a weakness. The River’s Run Festival is coming up,” he said. “The timing couldn’t be better.”

“For what?” I asked, wary.

He met my gaze without flinching even though his words were a knife. “For you and Orla to participate in the Mating Challenge.”

The tension in the chamber thickened so much I could barely breathe. Vyne whistled softly. Khorlar’s stony brow furrowed, but he remained silent.

I stared at Darrokar, anger igniting behind my ribs. “Absolutely not. No one’s done that in years. Surely you jest.”

He shook his head. “Never about this. You know the festival’s importance; they still speak of your success at the warrior trials all those years ago. The Mating Challenge is revered—our people treat it as the ultimate test of bonded pairs.”

I felt my wings twitch, my pulse hammering. “It’s insane. Warriors spend years preparing to face it together. She’s a civilian. And a human. You think I’ll throw her into a crucible meant to break the strongest among us? I don’t see you offering to throw your human in beside mine.”

“Tread carefully now,” Darrokar warned, the beginnings of a growl under his words. “If you can’t find some way to prove the bond to the doubters, this will not end. Zealots corner her while your back is turned. Word spreads that your human mate weakens you. Is that safer?”

I let out a long breath, claws curling into the table. “You think risking her life solves this?”

“I think showing the council—and all of Scalvaris—that your bond is more than a ploy to protect her is the only way. The River’s Run draws every eye. If they see your mate stand at your side, if they see what she’s made of, they’ll have no choice but to accept her.”

“She’s human,” I said in a low rasp. “You expect her to pass a challenge designed for trained warriors, ones who can brush off wounds she cannot?”

Darrokar’s expression didn’t shift. “I’ve seen what these humans can do. They’re stronger than many care to admit—and you know it too, or you wouldn’t have claimed her.”

That truth sank like a hot coal in my gut. Orla was fierce in ways few understood. But she hadn’t chosen this life. It had chosen her. I couldn’t make her face such trials purely to appease the old guard. Yet … I saw Darrokar’s point. Too well.

I forced my shoulders to relax. “And if I refuse?”

Darrokar’s gaze hardened. “The doubt will continue to spread until Karyseth finds a way to truly challenge you in council.”

Drakarn traditions were harsh. A mate bond was supposed to be sacrosanct. Lying about it would dishonor a warrior beyond nearly all else. I wasn’t lying, but a small part of me could understand why it might look that way.

Vyne’s voice drifted back into the stalemate. “You could always make another public declaration. Challenge someone for her honor, take her right there in the marketplace—very dramatic. The city will love it.”

I turned on him with a snarl, tail whipping the air. “Try me, Vyne.”

Khorlar broke in. “He may be a fool, but he’s not entirely wrong. Your woman must know the stakes. If she accepts, at least the council won’t treat her as a human outsider—they’ll treat her as your mate.”

A brittle kind of hope mingled with dread in my chest. Orla wouldn’t shy from a confrontation. She’d meet it head-on, even if it tore at her. The thought of exposing her to the Mating Challenge, though, made my blood chill.

“Let me talk to her,” I ground out, not hiding my reluctance. “She deserves a choice. I have taken enough from her already.”

Darrokar nodded. “Good.”

I pivoted sharply toward the exit, wings fluttering in frustration, tension climbing my spine. I’d had enough of this.

Khorlar’s rumbling voice stopped me mid-stride. “Don’t forget why you chose her.”

I didn’t turn around. Couldn’t. The memory of that primal pull, the way her scent sliced through me and stirred something feral, flashed again in my mind. Conviction and fear tangled in my throat.

One false step and I’d pay in Orla’s blood.

The corridors outside felt stifling, the veins of heat crystals pulsing along the dark walls. My steps echoed louder than normal, each stride a release of pent-up energy I couldn’t unleash in the council room.

Then I saw that piece of filth—Krazath. He smirked as he spoke in hushed tones with Zarvash, another councilor and a follower of the Forge Temple. Krazath’s wings were partially unfurled in an agitated stance, while Zarvash’s calm expression gave nothing away. When they noticed me, their voices dropped even lower.

I let my steps slow, eyes narrowed. Their posture—leaning in, wings tense—reeked of plotting. I caught a stray sentence from Zarvash: something about opportunists and precarious positions. Typical.

Zarvash stepped away from Krazath and inclined his head as he passed me. “It seems I cannot go a day without hearing about you.”

I grunted. “And you believe it all?”

His bronze eyes flicked over me, unreadable. “I merely follow the truth. Wherever it may lead.”

He moved on, leaving Krazath to glower at me from the edge of the passage. I stared back, letting him see the warning in my eyes.

If he tried coming near Orla again, I’d finish what I started.

My tail lashed behind me as I marched on, refusing to engage. Whispers were turning to poison, the wind in Scalvaris carrying rumors that sharpened like blades. If I stayed idle, they’d come for Orla the moment they sensed weakness.

I wasn’t slow or soft. I’d walk straight through a wall of flame for her.

But the Mating Challenge? That might be a step too far.

Something would break soon, and I’d damn well make sure it wasn’t her.