Chapter 11 Aisling #2
He stares into the flickering light for a long moment. It sharpens the angles of his face, turns him from handsome to striking.
“The last time we faced Valdris’s forces.” His voice drops low enough that only I can hear. “What they did to you. What they wanted to use you for.”
My appetite vanishes. I set aside my half-eaten bread.
“We don’t have to talk about it.”
“No. But—“ He turns to face me, and there’s something stripped-bare in his expression. Unguarded. “I wasn’t there. When they took you. When they—“ He stops, jaw tight. “I should have been there.”
“You didn’t even know I existed.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“The point is—“ He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “The point is that I’m here now. And I’m not letting anything happen to you. Not on this mission. Not ever.”
The words settle into my chest, heavy with meaning. My breath catches.
“That’s a big promise.”
“I’m a big dragon.”
“That’s not—“ I shake my head, fighting a smile. “You can’t just deflect with jokes every time things get serious.”
“Watch me.”
“Rurik.”
“Aisling.” He mimics my tone perfectly. Then his face shifts, growing earnest. “I mean it. Whatever we find at that prison—whatever memories surface—you won’t face it alone. I’ll be right there. Annoying you. Asking if you’re okay every thirty seconds.”
“Fifteen.”
“I’m upgrading to thirty for the prison visit. Special circumstances.”
The laugh escapes before I can stop it. He grins, clearly pleased with himself, and something unfurls in me—tender and terrifying and impossible to ignore.
This ridiculous, impossible man.
“Thank you,” I say. “For being here.”
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
Across the flames, I catch Selene watching us. She raises one eyebrow—a gesture loaded with meaning—and makes a subtle sign with her hand.
Progress.
I pretend not to notice. But I stay close to Rurik.
The nightmare comes without warning.
One moment I’m asleep, wrapped in blankets that smell of pine and woodsmoke. The next, I’m back in the cell—chains on my wrists, blood on the floor, that voice echoing through the darkness.
Little Fire-Bringer. Your blood sings to me.
I can’t move. Can’t breathe. The chains are too tight, the darkness too thick, and somewhere in the depths of the mountain, something ancient is stirring. Something that knows my name. Something that’s been waiting.
You’re mine, little flame. You’ve always been mine.
“Aisling.”
The voice cuts through the nightmare. Hands grip my shoulders, shaking gently.
“Aisling, wake up. You’re safe. You’re here with me.”
My eyes snap open. Rurik’s face swims into focus—worried, urgent, illuminated by the dying embers. I’m sitting up, I realize. Gasping for air. My hands are shaking so badly, I can barely feel them.
“You’re okay.” His tone is low, steady. Grounding. “You’re in the camp. Not the prison. Not anywhere near her.”
“I—“ The word catches in my throat. “She was—I could hear her—“
“She’s not here.” His palms cup my face, forcing me to look at him. “Just me. Just us. You’re safe.”
My breathing is too fast. Too shallow. I try to slow it, try to focus on his face, his voice, the pressure of his skin against my cheeks.
“Sorry.” The word comes out ragged. “I didn’t mean to—“
“Don’t apologize.” His thumb traces my cheekbone, featherlight. “Never apologize for this.”
Movement behind him. Selene appears, wrapped in a blanket, concern creasing her brow.
“Nightmare?”
I nod. Can’t find words.
She looks at Rurik. Something passes between them—an understanding I’m too shaken to interpret.
“Go check the perimeter,” she says. “I’ve got her.”
He hesitates. His hands are still on my face, his body angled toward me as if he can’t bear to leave.
“Rurik.” Selene’s tone is gentle but firm. “Let me.”
He pulls back slowly. His touch trails down my jaw before falling away entirely.
“I’ll be nearby,” he says. “If you need me—“
“She knows.” Selene settles beside me as he rises. “Go.”
He goes. But he looks back three times before disappearing into the tree line.
Selene doesn’t speak immediately.
She just sits there, shoulder pressed to mine, watching the dying embers. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s patient. Waiting.
“Six weeks ago,” she says finally, “I was exactly where you are now.”
I turn to look at her. In the dim light, her features are soft, shadowed.
“Nightmares?”
“Every night. Sometimes twice.” Her mouth twists. “Drayke would hold me until the shaking stopped. Sometimes for hours. He never complained. Never made me feel weak for it.”
“You’re not weak.”
“Neither are you.” She bumps her shoulder against mine. “Trauma doesn’t make us weak. It just makes us human. Or Fire-Bringer. Same difference.”
A laugh escapes me—surprised, slightly wobbly, but genuine. “You’re good at this.”
“Practice.” She pulls her blanket tighter. “And research. Lots of research. The Brotherhood doesn’t have an actual therapist, but Auren has books on cognitive behavioral techniques. I made him explain them to me.”
“Auren? Explaining emotional processing?”
“It was exactly as awkward as you’re imagining.” Her grin flashes. “But helpful. And Drayke—“ Her face softens. “He never pushed. Never tried to fix it. Just stayed. Let me know I wasn’t alone.”
I think about Rurik. The way he checked on me fifteen times today. The way he held my face in his palms, steady despite the fear in his expression.
You won’t face it alone.
“Does it get easier?” I ask.
“Yes.” No hesitation. “Not gone—never gone—but easier. The nightmares come less often. The panic fades faster. You learn to live with it instead of drowning in it.”
“How long?”
“Different for everyone.” She turns to face me fully. “But you have something I didn’t have in the beginning.”
“What?”
“People who understand.” She gestures at the camp—at Drayke’s sleeping form, at the guards maintaining their silent watch, at the trees where Rurik vanished.
“A Fire-Bringer who’s been through it. Dragons who would burn down the world to keep you safe.
” Her mouth curves. “One dragon in particular who can barely let you out of his sight.”
My cheeks flush. “Rurik is—“
“Completely gone for you.” Selene’s grin widens. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”
“We’re—it’s—“ I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “It’s complicated. We haven’t even kissed properly yet.”
“Yet.” She pounces on the word. “So there’s a plan.”
“There’s no plan. There’s just—“ I wave vaguely at the trees where he disappeared. “Him. Being himself. Making it very hard to think straight.”
“It’s always complicated.” She reaches over, squeezes my hand. “But complicated isn’t bad. Just means it matters.”
We sit in silence for a while, watching the last of the light fade from the coals. The shaking in my hands has stopped. My breathing has evened out. The nightmare is still there, lurking at the edges of my mind, but it feels smaller now. Manageable.
“Selene?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
She squeezes my hand again. “That’s what sisters are for.”
The second day of travel is easier.
The nightmare has left me raw but lighter, as if lancing an infected wound.
Selene and Drayke fly beside me and Rurik, and we continue our hand signal conversations—expanded now to include nightmare scale one to ten and overprotective dragon alert and I think Drayke is trying to signal Rurik to back off.
Rurik, predictably, does not back off.
He flies slower than necessary, checking on me over his shoulder at every opportunity. At rest stops, he’s at my side before I’ve dismounted. During meals, he somehow ends up with the seat nearest mine, his knee pressed against my thigh.
“You’re hovering,” I tell him as we settle into camp for the second night.
“I’m existing in proximity. Different thing.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“Semantics.” He passes me a water flask, his grip lingering on mine. “How are you feeling?”
“You asked me that ten minutes ago.”
“A lot can change in ten minutes.”
“My emotional state is not that volatile.”
“Just checking.”
I should be annoyed. Should feel smothered by the constant attention.
Instead, I feel something else entirely.
He cares. Really, genuinely cares. Not because of duty or obligation or some ancient Fire-Bringer mystique. Because he cares about me.
“I’m fine,” I say, gentler now. “Really. Better than yesterday.”
“Yeah?” Hope brightens his face.
“Yeah.”
Drayke and Selene take first watch, disappearing into the trees with loaded glances. Four of the younger guards settle around the perimeter, scales glinting in the moonlight. The flames crackle between us, casting dancing shadows across Rurik’s features.
He’s beautiful in this light. I stopped pretending not to notice somewhere around the cliff dive—maybe earlier. The firelight sharpens his jaw, catches the copper in his hair, makes him look like something out of the legends Selene reads.
Beautiful. Ridiculous. Mine.
The last thought doesn’t catch me off guard anymore. It’s been settling into my bones for days.
“Tell me something,” I say, before I can think better of it.
“What kind of something?”
“Something true. Something you don’t tell people.”
He goes still for a moment, watching the flames dance. The silence stretches long enough that I think he won’t answer.
“I’m tired.”
The words are so simple they almost don’t register. “Tired?”
“Three and a half centuries of fighting. Of losing people. Of pretending that none of it gets to me because I’m the one who makes everyone laugh.” His voice drops. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just... stop. Stay in one place. Have something worth staying for.”
My throat tightens. “Rurik—“
“Your turn.” He looks at me, and the rawness there steals my breath. “Something true.”
I think about deflecting. About making a joke, changing the subject. Old habits, stubborn as rust.
But I’ve been tearing down walls for weeks now. No point rebuilding them for him.
I tell him the truth.