Page 11 of Naga Warlord’s Mate (Nagas of Nirum #3)
Andear
Andear’s tail coiled tighter beneath him as Priscilla’s voice suddenly cut through the council’s chamber.
“You speak of medical advancement, but what you really want is to turn Nirum into a breeding ground for humans.”
The council’s chamber fell silent. Andear’s scales rippled with tension as he watched her—his fierce little human, standing before the most powerful beings on Nirum with fire in her eyes. His protective instincts screamed at him, but he remained still, transfixed.
“I lived under beings like you.” Priscilla’s chin lifted. “Different planet, same lies. Same promises of progress while you chain us in darkness.”
Zarlok’s eyes narrowed. The air grew thick with danger, but Priscilla didn’t flinch. The mate bond pulsed with her determination and rage.
“Your fertility treatments?” She gestured to the green-scaled council member. “They’ll come at the cost of human women’s freedom. I’ve seen it before. First, it’s ‘voluntary surrogates.’ Then it becomes mandatory ‘service to the empire.’”
Andear’s claws dug into his palms. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to strike if Zarlok made one wrong move. The Xirath leader’s forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, tasting her defiance.
“The Xirath Dominion has breeding facilities masked as medical centers,” Priscilla continued. “Is that what you want for Nirum? To become what you fought so hard to overcome?”
Pride and terror warred in Andear’s chest. She spoke truth—dangerous, necessary truth. His little warrior, facing down an empire without a weapon. The mate bond thrummed stronger, and for the first time, he didn’t fight it.
Andear’s tail coiled impossibly tighter beneath him as the council’s chamber crackled with tension. Several of the older council members shifted in their seats, their scales bristling at this unprecedented breach of protocol. A human speaking out of turn? In their sacred chamber? His warrior’s instincts roared at him to act, to assert control, but his chest swelled with conflicting pride at her courage.
Councilor Merat’s spines flared in irritation. “This is an outrage! A human has no place—”
The mate bond surged between them, strong and insistent. Andear’s claws dug deep into his palms as he battled the urge to wrap around Priscilla and shield her from the growing hostility in the room. But she stood tall, her chin lifted, those eyes blazing with conviction.
The younger council members exchanged uncertain glances. Priscilla’s words had struck true—too true. They all knew the dark history of human exploitation, the very practices they’d fought to eliminate from their society. Yet here they were, entertaining an alliance with those who still embraced such barbarism.
Andear’s tail lashed, betraying his inner turmoil. As warlord, he should stop her. As her mate—though unclaimed—he should protect her. The conflict tore at him, leaving him frozen between duty and instinct.
Zarlok’s eyes fixed on Priscilla, his scaled lips curving into a predatory smile that made Andear’s blood boil. The Xirath leader leaned forward.
“And what do you suggest, little human?” Zarlok’s voice dripped with false sweetness. “That Nirum turn down such an opportunity for the sake of sentiment?”
Andear watched as Priscilla’s small hands curled into fists. Her defiance radiated through their mate bond.
“It’s not sentiment. It’s morality.” Her voice cut through the chamber.
His scales rippled with tension. No human had ever dared challenge the Xirath so openly. The council’s chamber crackled with an energy that made his warrior’s instincts surge. His claws flexed, ready to strike if needed, though he fought to maintain his stoic facade.
Zarlok’s obsidian eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. The Xirath leader’s forked tongue flicked out, tasting Priscilla’s defiance in the air. Andear’s muscles bunched, preparing to launch himself between them if necessary.
The council erupted into chaos. Councilor Merat slammed his fist on the marble table. “This human speaks treason!”
Andear’s tail twitched uncontrollably as the arguments escalated. Every word from Priscilla’s lips echoed his own warnings from weeks ago. The same passion, the same fierce protection of what was right. His chest swelled with pride even as anxiety churned in his gut. She fought with words where he would have used blade and fang, but their hearts beat with the same warrior’s rhythm.
The mate bond hummed stronger, and he decided he wasn’t going to fight it anymore. How could he, when she embodied everything he valued? Her courage, her unwavering conviction—she was proving herself a warrior in her own right, even as she stood there in her fragile human form.
Andear watched Priscilla’s spine straighten as the debate raged around her. She hadn’t once looked his way, hadn’t sought his protection or approval. His little mate stood on her own merit, fighting their shared battle. The realization hit him like a blow to the chest. The gods had chosen her for him because of how perfectly they aligned where it mattered most.
His scales suddenly bristled as the council’s fury reached a crescendo. The council members’ voices overlapped in a cacophony of outrage, their scales flashing warning colors in the chamber’s dim light.
“Silence her now!” Councilor Merat growled. “This human has no right—”
“Remove her at once—” another voice cut through.
For the first time since she’d begun speaking, Priscilla’s confidence wavered. Her eyes found his, a silent plea in their depths. The mate bond pulsed between them, carrying her fear, her uncertainty—and beneath it all, her unwavering conviction that she was right.
Something snapped inside Andear’s chest. His protective instincts roared, drowning out decades of political maneuvering and careful restraint. She thought he would abandon her to face this alone. His little warrior, who had fought so hard to prove herself worthy, now needed him to fight alongside her.
His tail propelled him forward in one fluid motion. The marble floor cracked beneath the force of his movement as he positioned himself within inches of the council members. The chamber fell silent at his approach, the council members drawing back instinctively from his imposing presence.
“She speaks the truth.” His voice cut through the chamber like a blade, deep and final. The mate bond thrummed with approval as Priscilla’s shoulders straightened.
Zarlok’s eyes narrowed. “Warlord Andear, surely you don’t support this... disruption?”
“I support honor.” Andear’s tail curled protectively near Priscilla’s feet, though he didn’t touch her. “And there is no honor in building alliances with those who would enslave the innocent.”
The council’s chamber erupted again, but Andear held Zarlok’s gaze. Let them rage. Let them threaten. He was done watching from the shadows while others fought his battles. His mate had shown more courage than any warrior in his ranks, and he would stand with her now in this moment, and from now on.
His scales suddenly rippled with barely contained rage as Zarlok’s eyes fixed on Priscilla with predatory intent. The Xirath’s claws scraped against the marble table, a sound that made Andear’s warrior blood surge with protective fury. The mate bond pulsated with warning. Zarlok wouldn’t forget this slight. His little mate had just painted a target on her back.
As the council dispersed, Andear slithered closer to Priscilla. “I’m escorting you home.”
“I can handle myself,” she said firmly, that familiar defiance sparking in her green eyes.
“This isn’t about your training or your capabilities.” His voice dropped lower, meant only for her ears. “You’ve challenged the Xirath openly. They don’t forgive such things.”
“I’m not afraid of—”
“You should be.” The words came out harsher than intended, his protective instincts overwhelming his usual restraint.
Andear’s gaze swept the chamber, noting the lingering shadows where attackers could hide. His warrior’s instincts screamed danger at every corner. When he looked back at Priscilla, something in his expression must have conveyed his urgency.
She sighed, relenting. “Fine. But just this once.”
His tail uncurled slightly as relief washed through him. “Of course. You’re perfectly capable of handling yourself against trained killers who can move through shadows.”
“Was that sarcasm from the mighty warlord?” A small smile played on her lips.
“Merely an observation,” he replied flatly.
He gestured for her to walk beside him, his massive form positioned between her and any potential threats as he escorted her to her sister’s dwelling. His senses remained razor-sharp, scanning every shadow, every corner, and every possible threat along the way. The mate bond hummed with her stubborn confidence, making his scales bristle with frustration.
“I want you to stay inside after dark,” he insisted, his tail coiling protectively near her door.
Priscilla’s eyes flashed. “I’m not going to hide.”
“This isn’t about hiding. The Xirath are dangerous,” he rumbled low.
“I can handle—”
“No.” His voice dropped lower, commanding. “You cannot handle trained assassins who move through shadow. Your combat training, while impressive, won’t save you from them.”
She crossed her arms, that familiar defiance radiating through their bond. “So what, I’m supposed to live in fear?”
“No, but you’re supposed to live.” His tail curled tighter, betraying his anxiety. “Just... be vigilant. Please.”
Something in his tone must have reached her because she nodded, though reluctantly. “Fine. I’ll be careful.”
Andear watched her disappear inside before turning away. His warrior’s instincts barked at him to stay, to guard her through the night, but he forced himself to move.
Back at his den, he moved around restlessly, his tail leaving marks across the stone floor. The council chamber’s political implications should have consumed his thoughts—the Xirath’s proposal, the potential threat to Nirum’s sovereignty, the military implications. Instead, all he could see was Priscilla’s vulnerable form standing before Zarlok, painting herself as a target.
His claws scraped against stone as another wave of protective fury washed over him. Let them try to harm her. Let them dare to touch what was his. He would tear through armies to keep her safe, politics and duty be damned.
When did this tiny, stubborn human become more important than his sacred duty as warlord? The mate bond pulsed in answer, reminding him that some things transcended duty.