Page 24 of Naga Warlord’s Mate (Nagas of Nirum #3)
Priscilla
Priscilla burst through the council chamber’s doors. Blood and grime streaked her clothes, evidence of their narrow escape from the Xirath. Behind her, Andear’s imposing form filled the doorway. His black and gold scales gleamed with sweat, one hand pressed against the wound in his side. Mila followed.
The council members’ conversations died mid-sentence. Their shocked expressions might have been amusing under different circumstances, but Priscilla’s hands shook with rage as she slammed the stolen communicator onto the polished table.
“Listen,” she commanded. She pressed play before anyone could object.
The Xirath commander’s cold voice filled the chamber: “Surrender the humans, warlord, and we might let you live.”
Andear’s tail wrapped protectively around her waist as he spoke next, his deep voice resonating through the chamber despite his injury. “That’s not all. We heard them with our own ears, planning their betrayal.”
Priscilla’s fingers dug into Andear’s scales, steadying herself as much as him. Blood seeped between her fingers where she pressed against his wound. The memory of what they’d overheard made her stomach turn.
“Two officers,” she continued, meeting each council member’s gaze. “One said, ‘The council’s hesitation works in our favor. They debate while we prepare.’”
Andear’s grip tightened on her waist. “And then the other revealed their true plan: ‘Once the moon base is established, we will begin phase two—subjugation.’”
The words hung in the air. Priscilla watched the council members’ faces, searching for any sign of the outrage she felt. Some looked shocked, others skeptical. But none spoke. The silence stretched, broken only by Andear’s labored breathing beside her.
Under her hand, his muscles tensed. She could feel his restraint and knew he wanted to roar at them for their continued hesitation. But they needed the council’s support. They needed them to understand what was coming.
Mila stepped forward, medical supplies ready that a Niri guard had given her, but Andear shook his head slightly. He wouldn’t show weakness, not now. Not when everything hung in the balance. Priscilla’s heart swelled with pride and fear for her mate, even as his blood continued to seep between her fingers.
Elder Caenz’s weathered hand slammed against the council table. “The evidence is irrefutable. The Xirath seek to destroy everything we’ve built.”
Priscilla’s shoulders sagged with relief as murmurs of agreement rippled through the chamber. Her fingers remained pressed against Andear’s wound, sticky with his blood. The mate bond pulsated, making her acutely aware of his pain despite his stoic expression.
Another elder, Merat, rose from his seat. His tail coiled beneath him as he straightened to his full height. “We must prepare for war. The Xirath cannot be allowed to gain any foothold on our moons.”
Andear’s muscles finally relaxed under her touch. He sank into a nearby chair, his tail curling protectively around her ankles even as he winced. The mighty warlord might try to hide it, but Priscilla felt his exhaustion through their bond.
Mila appeared at her side with the medical supplies, her familiar presence comforting. “Let me see that wound, you stubborn warrior,” her sister said, already pulling out antiseptic.
“I am fine,” Andear growled, but Priscilla shot him a look.
“You’re not fine. Let us help you.” She pressed her hand against his chest when he tried to rise. “The council is finally listening. You’ve done enough.”
His golden eyes locked with hers, fierce even through the pain. “A warrior doesn’t show weakness.”
“Good thing I’m not asking the warrior,” Priscilla said softly. “I’m asking my mate.”
That made him pause. His tail tightened briefly around her ankles before he relaxed, allowing Mila to clean the wound. Priscilla helped cut away the torn fabric around the injury, her hands steady despite her racing heart. The council’s voices faded to background noise as she focused on her mate.
“You should have let me kill more of them,” Andear muttered, his claws flexing against the chair’s armrest.
Priscilla smiled despite herself. “There will be plenty of time for that now.”
The council’s chamber buzzed with activity as plans were already being made, warriors being summoned. Finally, they were taking action. Finally, they understood what she and Andear had known all along.
Suddenly, the council’s chamber doors burst open, revealing a young Niri messenger. His scales were slick with sweat, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Priscilla’s hand tightened on Andear’s shoulder, the mate bond thrumming with sudden tension.
“The Xirath fleet—” The messenger’s tail coiled anxiously beneath him. “They’re moving toward the second moon. Their weapons are primed.”
Priscilla’s stomach dropped. Through their bond, she felt Andear’s fury surge like a tidal wave. His massive tail uncoiled as he rose, towering over everyone in the chamber despite his injury. The wound at his side still seeped blood, but his eyes blazed with renewed strength.
“They were never waiting for our decision,” Andear’s voice rumbled through the chamber. His claws flexed at his sides. “This was their plan all along.”
The council erupted into chaos.
Elder Caenz’s tail slammed against the floor, silencing the chamber. “Warlord Andear.” His weathered voice carried authority that even the other elders respected. “You have full command of our forces. Whatever resources you need—they’re yours.”
Priscilla watched as something shifted in Andear’s posture. The restlessness that had plagued him since she’d known him vanished, replaced by deadly purpose. This was the warrior she’d glimpsed during their training sessions, the warlord who’d earned his reputation in battle.
“My warriors will be ready,” Andear’s voice was cold steel. “The Xirath think us weak and divided. They will learn differently.”
Through their bond, Priscilla felt his fierce protectiveness, his determination to keep both her and Nirum safe. She placed her hand over his where it rested on her hip, her fingers threading through his. The gesture said what words couldn’t. She would fight beside him, whether he liked it or not.
Priscilla soon watched as warriors flooded into the training grounds, their armor gleaming under Nirum’s twin moons. The familiar space had transformed into a war camp, filled with the sharp ring of blades being sharpened and the heavy thud of supply crates being stacked.
Her fingers tightened around the sword Andear had given her—lighter than his but deadly all the same. Through their mate bond, she felt his displeasure at her presence here, even as he coordinated his forces with precise efficiency.
His massive tail coiled beneath him as he barked orders, the fresh bandages around his torso a stark reminder of their narrow escape. But he moved as if the wound didn’t exist, his golden eyes blazing with authority as his warriors scrambled to obey.
“You should be resting up,” she said, stepping closer to him.
His tail flicked in irritation. “A warlord does not rest while his warriors prepare for battle.” He towered over her, his scales gleaming black and gold in the moonlight. “And you should not be here at all.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Priscilla lifted her chin, meeting his fierce gaze. “I’ve spent my whole life being protected—by my sister and by others. Not anymore.”
Andear’s claws flexed at his sides, his tail coiling tighter. “This is not some training exercise, little mate. This is war.”
“I know exactly what this is.” She stepped even closer, pressing her hand against his chest. She felt his heart racing despite his controlled exterior. “And I won’t hide while you fight for everything I love.”
His expression softened slightly, one large hand coming up to cup her face. “You are impossible.”
A young warrior approached, hesitating at the intimate moment. Andear’s tail snapped irritably. “Speak.”
“The first squadron is ready for inspection, warlord.”
Andear nodded sharply, his hand lingering on Priscilla’s cheek for a moment longer. “Stay close to me,” he growled softly. “If you insist on being here, you will not leave my sight.”
Priscilla smiled, falling into step beside him as he moved to inspect his troops. The mate bond hummed between them, and she knew this was where she belonged—not hidden away but fighting beside him, protecting their home together.
Priscilla gripped the hilt of her sword tighter as she marched beside Andear toward the waiting fleet in the early hours before dawn. The weapon felt natural in her hand now after countless hours of training. Her muscles remembered every stance, every strike he’d taught her. The familiar weight steadied her racing heart.
She felt Andear’s constant awareness of her, his protective instincts warring with his respect for her choice to fight. His massive tail left tracks in the ground as he slithered forward, his upper body rigid with tension.
“Stay close to me during the battle,” he growled, his golden eyes scanning the assembled warriors. “No heroics.”
“I’m not the same helpless girl you found in your training grounds,” Priscilla reminded him. The memory of those first days felt distant now—when she’d been lost, purposeless, and desperate to prove herself.
His tail flicked, agitation clear in the sharp movement. “You were never helpless. Untrained, yes. But never helpless.”
The admission made her smile despite the gravity of their situation. She watched as his warriors parted before them, their respect for their warlord evident in every movement. But she noticed something else now. They nodded at her, too, acknowledging not just their commander’s mate but a fellow warrior.
“The Xirath think they know what I am,” she said softly, remembering the contempt in their eyes. “They see a former slave. A weak human.” Her grip tightened on her sword. “They’re wrong.”
Andear’s massive hand settled on her shoulder. “They will learn their mistake.” His voice dropped lower, meant only for her. “You are a warrior of Nirum now. My warrior.”
The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver through her, but it didn’t feel like chains. This was a choice—her choice. To fight. To protect. To stand beside the mate who had taught her to be strong.
The fleet loomed ahead, sleek ships ready for battle. Priscilla raised her chin, her eyes bright with determination. She was no longer running from chains. She was running toward freedom—not just her own but everyone’s. And this time, she had the strength to fight for it.