Page 91 of The Devil May Care

Her name lives in a part of me that does not speak. She was never mine to claim, not officially. But we would have bonded, had the war not stolen her first. Had my father not decided that my service was more important than her life. He did not tell me she had been captured. He did not allow me to search. He let her die so that I would stay on the front lines, so that I would keep winning. I stayed for duty and she paid the cost.

I swore I would never feel again. That I would never bond. Never want. I told myself I would never reach for something the flame couldtwist into a weapon. I buried every part of me that loved. And now…Kay.

I close my eyes.

I do not mistake what this is growing between the human and myself. I would have bonded Isaeth because I cared for her. Because I admired her mind and her steadiness and the quiet understanding between us, but I did not ache in her presence. I never felt the pulse of fire beneath my skin when she laughed. Never let my shields slip just to hear her speak my name.

This is different.

Kay is chaos. Sharp-tongued and irreverent. She challenges everything I’ve been taught to revere. She is untrained. Unmarked. Ill-prepared. And I cannot stop thinking about her. This would be easier if I didn’t respect her. If I could dismiss her as an accident, a strange mortal swept into the game of kings, a puzzle to be solved. But I’ve seen the way she endures. The way she refuses to break, even when she’s terrified. The way she laughs in the face of power because it never protected her.

She is not Isaeth.

And that’s what makes her dangerous because I did not bury my grief in war after Isaeth died. I buried it in resolve and Kay is untying those knots strand by strand.

I curl my hands against the stone ledge, feel it bite into my palms.

My father forbade me from warning her about the first test. It was not a suggestion. Not something I can ignore and pay the price later. He bound my tongue. That alone should not be enough to rattle me. I’ve carried burdens heavier than silence, but Kay trusts me now. Not blindly. Not with reverence. With hope.

The rarest thing in all the realms.

She will stand before the flame soon. And when it does not call her, she will be shamed. That is the plan. I’ve seen it forming behind every sneer and subtle nod in the council hall. Let the human girl stumble. Let her be a curiosity turned embarrassment. Let the people reject her, so no one has to draw the blade. That is the mercy they’ve designed. But what if I am wrong? What if we all are?

What if the flame does rise for her? What if I stand there, frozen,watching it choose her as the crowd begins to howl? What if they turn on her and let her die? What if I cannot stop it?

The wind howls across the overlook, and I press my eyes shut. I tell myself this is not love. Not yet, but I know the signs. I know what it feels like to want someone more than you want your name, your rank, or your place in the world, and I know what happens when you let that feeling go unanswered. When you wait too long.

So here is the truth I cannot unmake: I will not lose another innocent to my father’s throne. I will not let them take her. If they come for her, they will have to go through me. And if that means I take my place in the arena… If it means I ignite the flame they so desperately want from me…Then so be it.

Let Crimson burn.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

KAY

George is purring like he’s trying to rattle the floorboards loose. The sound buzzes through my bones, heavy and low, and I keep petting him like that’ll do something to quiet the hollow in my chest. It doesn’t. He flops against my leg, warm and real and here, and it’s honestly the only reason I haven’t gone full meltdown.

Caziel isn’t here. No knock on the door. No note. No sharp-angled silhouette in the doorway with that unreadable expression and the weight of a thousand years in his eyes. Just silence. And yeah, I’m spiraling a little. Maybe more than a little. After everything—after I laid myself bare like an idiot—he disappeared. And I don’t know what that means.

Did I scare him off? Did I imagine the way he looked at me? Do I matter less than I thought? No. I shake my head. He probably has Ember Heir business to attend to.

George snorts and flips onto his back, belly up and smug. “Traitor,” I murmur, scratching under his chin. He licks my hand like he forgives me for whatever cosmic betrayal I’ve committed today.

The room feels too still. The quiet presses in, and then the door slams open.

I yelp, nearly falling off the bed. George bolts upright, fur puffed, his eyes narrowed like he’s deciding whether to destroy or tolerate whoever just dared enter his kingdom.

“SWEET FLAME, KAY!” Sarai screeches. “I thought it ate you!”

I blink. “What?”

“That—” She points, hand shaking, “thing! It was here alone, and you were gone and I thought—I thought it devoured you whole!”

There’s a beat of stunned silence before I realize she’s pointing at George. Who licks his paw with the smug serenity of a creature who absolutely would eat me, if he ever felt like it. I start laughing. I can’t stop. It’s not pretty or dignified. It’s half-hysterical and too sharp and it pulls something loose in my chest.

“You thought my cat ate me?”

Sarai’s eyes are huge and for the first time I notice the mitts covering her hands as if they’d protect her from being clawed.