Chapter 1 Aisling #2
“I didn’t. Not really.” A sad smile curves her lips. “The person I was before—she died in that chamber. I’m different now. Changed.” She pauses. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The person I was before couldn’t do this.”
Fire dances across her hand again. Stronger this time. More controlled.
“I’m not asking you to trust the dragons,” she continues. “I’m asking you to eat. Let me check your wounds. Nothing more.”
The smell of the soup drifts toward me. My stomach cramps with hunger—real hunger, not the dull emptiness I’d grown used to in captivity. When was the last time I ate? I can’t remember.
It could be poisoned. Drugged. Another layer of manipulation.
But if they wanted me dead or drugged, they could have done it while I was unconscious. Could have done it a dozen times over in the past two days.
Selene remains still. No pressure. Just quiet presence I wouldn’t have expected from anyone in this cursed place.
“Fine.” The word scrapes out of me. Surrender tastes wrong in my mouth. “But I keep the blade.”
“Of course.” She rises fluidly, retrieves the tray, and brings it to me. Sets it within arm’s reach before retreating to her original position. “Eat slowly. Your stomach won’t be used to real food.”
I know that. I’m a veterinarian—or I was, before. Malnourished animals need to be reintroduced to food gradually. Too much too fast and the shock can kill them.
I’m the animal now.
The soup is simple. Broth with vegetables and small pieces of chicken. The bread is soft, easy to tear. I eat slowly, mechanically, forcing myself to chew each bite thoroughly even though everything in me demands I devour the whole thing in seconds.
Selene watches without watching. Present but not intrusive. No questions. No meaningless chatter to fill the silence. Just... patience.
When the bowl is empty, she extends her hand.
“May I check your wounds? Several looked infected when they brought you in.”
I hesitate. The scalpel sits in my lap. My body aches in ways I’ve been trying to ignore—the cuts on my arms, the bruises on my ribs, the puncture wounds where they inserted the needles over and over again.
Selene’s hand hovers between us. Open. Waiting.
I extend my arm.
Her touch is gentle as she examines the cuts, the puncture marks, the half-healed wounds that mottle my skin from wrist to shoulder. Professional, somehow.
“These need to be cleaned properly.” She traces one of the deeper cuts without pressing on it. “I can do that, if you’ll let me. There’s also a healer here—dragon, unfortunately—but he’s good. Annoying, but good.”
“No dragons.” The words come out harder than I intended. “I don’t want—I can’t—”
“Just me, then.” Selene releases my arm. “I’ll get the supplies.”
She moves to the medical table, gathering cloths and bottles with efficient motions. The firelight catches the edges of a mark on her chest—visible above the neckline of her shirt. Swirling patterns that almost seem to move.
A brand? Like the ones they—
“It’s a claiming mark.” Selene catches me looking and touches the pattern absently. “Different from what they did to you. This one was... chosen.”
The meaning escapes me. I’m too exhausted to chase it. My head is spinning, fatigue pulling at the edges of my consciousness.
Selene returns with her supplies and begins cleaning my wounds. The antiseptic burns. I welcome the pain—it’s sharp, clarifying, real.
“The red-haired one.” The question escapes before I can stop it. “Rurik. Why won’t he leave?”
Selene’s movements still for a moment. When she looks up, her smile holds meaning I can’t read.
“That’s... complicated.” She resumes her work, dabbing at a particularly deep cut. “And probably not what you want to hear right now.”
“Tell me anyway.” I need to know. Need to understand why that dragon sat on the ground and let me threaten him. Why he offered his face for stabbing. Why he’s outside the door right now, waiting.
Selene finishes bandaging my arm before she answers.
“Dragons have... instincts.” She chooses her words carefully. “When they encounter certain people, those instincts get very loud. Very insistent.” She pauses. “Rurik’s instincts are apparently screaming at him about you.”
“Screaming what?”
“That you’re important. That you need to be protected.” A rueful twist of her lips. “That you belong to him.”
Ice floods my veins. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“No. You don’t.” Selene’s voice is firm.
“And Rurik knows that. It’s why he’s sitting outside instead of in here—why he backed off when you told him to.
Those instincts are howling, but he’s not going to act on them unless you want him to.
” She sighs. “Which you clearly aren’t ready for, and that’s completely understandable. ”
I stare at her. At the claiming mark on her chest. At the quiet certainty in her gaze.
“This happened to you.” It’s not a question.
“Yes.” She sits back on her heels. “Drayke—the one who leads the Brotherhood—his instincts were screaming about me. I fought it for weeks. Fought him. Fought everything.” A soft laugh. “And then I realized I was fighting the one person who would burn down the world to keep me safe.”
The words settle over me, heavy and strange. I have no idea what to do with them. No idea how to process anything that’s happened in the last hour.
“Get some rest.” Selene rises, gathering her supplies. “I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you. The door has no lock from the outside—you can leave whenever you want, go wherever you want. No one’s going to force you to stay.”
“But Rurik will follow.”
“At a distance. Yes.” No apology in her tone. “He can’t help it. And honestly? There are worse things than having someone that stubborn watching your back.”
She leaves.
The door clicks shut behind her, and I’m alone.
Not alone. Rurik is outside. Waiting. Watching. Ready to crash through if I scream again.
Why doesn’t that terrify me more?
I pull my knees to my chest. The scalpel rests in my lap. The bandages on my arms are clean and white. My stomach is full for the first time in weeks.
Nothing makes sense.
The dragons who captured me were monsters. Cold, calculating, using my blood for dark purposes. The dragons here—these Brotherhood dragons—are different. They sit on floors. They show vulnerability. They send women with soup and gentle touches.
It could still be a lie. An elaborate ruse.
But if it is, it’s a very strange one.
Exhaustion drags at me. My vision blurs. Every muscle aches with a bone-deep weariness I’ve been fighting for too long.
Sleep. Just for a few minutes. The blade is right here. The exit is right there.
I don’t mean to close my eyes. To let my head fall back against the wall. To drift into darkness.
But between one breath and the next, the world goes quiet.
And for the first time in three weeks, no one comes to hurt me.