Chapter 17 Rurik
SEVENTEEN
RURIK
She’s magnificent when she’s planning war.
I watch her debate with my brothers—this woman who woke up screaming an hour ago, who still has ash in her hair from the fire she couldn’t control—and something fierce and proud swells in my chest.
Three weeks ago, she could barely light a candle without setting the room ablaze. Now she’s standing toe to toe with Auren, discussing approach vectors and ward-breaking sequences, and holding her own.
“The secondary tunnels connect to the main chamber through the blood channels.” Her finger traces a path on the map. “If Selene and I move through there while the main force draws Valdris’s attention—“
“Absolutely not.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. “You’re not going anywhere near those tunnels.”
Her gaze cuts to me. Sharp. Dangerous. “Excuse me?”
“Those channels are designed to drain Fire-Bringers. Walking through them is suicide.”
“Walking through them is the only approach she won’t expect.” Aisling’s jaw sets in that stubborn line I’ve learned to dread. “She’ll have the main entrances covered. The landing platforms. Every obvious approach. But the blood channels? She thinks I’m too traumatized to go near them.”
“Are you?”
The question hangs between us. Her eyes flicker—just for a second—with something that might be fear.
“Yes.” The admission costs her. I can see it in the way her shoulders tighten, the way her hands curl into fists at her sides.
“But I’m going anyway. Because my cousin is in there.
Because this is my fight. And because—“ She steps closer, voice dropping. “—I’m not the woman who got dragged out of those tunnels three weeks ago. And it’s time Valdris learned that. ”
Fuck. My dragon roars approval even as my human mind catalogs every way this plan could go wrong. She’s ours. She’s fierce. She’s going to get herself killed.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“Rurik—“
“Non-negotiable.” I match her stubborn stance with my own. “You want to walk through a death trap? Fine. But you’re not doing it alone.”
“The channels are too narrow for dragons to shift. You’d be fighting in human form the entire time.”
“Then I’ll fight in human form.” I grin—the sharp, reckless one that makes Auren twitch. “I’ve been doing it for a few centuries. I’m pretty good at it.”
She stares at me. Searching for something in my expression. Whatever she finds makes her shoulders drop a fraction.
“You’re impossible.”
“You betcha.” I reach out, brush a strand of ash-gray hair from her cheek. “I’m starting to think it’s a compliment.”
“It’s not.”
“Liar.”
Drayke clears his throat. “If you two are finished...”
The plan comes together faster than I expected.
Drayke will lead the main assault—thirty dragons hitting Valdris’s defenses from the air while Zyphon’s shadows sow chaos from the ground. Auren coordinates the tactical strike, targeting the ward anchors that keep the mountain’s defenses active.
And Aisling, Selene, and I go through the tunnels.
“You’re sure about this?” Selene asks as we gear up in the armory. She’s strapping on light armor—leather reinforced with dragon scale, designed for mobility rather than heavy combat. “The three of us against whatever she’s got guarding those channels?”
“I’m sure.” Aisling’s voice is steady, but her hands tremble slightly as she checks her weapons. A knife at her hip. Another strapped to her thigh. Fire in her blood. “Niamh’s down there. I’m getting her out.”
“And if Valdris is waiting?”
Aisling’s jaw sets. “Then I’ll finally get to show her what happens when you use someone I love as bait.”
I watch her—this controlled, organized woman who’s learned to channel chaos into purpose—and feel something shift in my chest. Something that’s been building for weeks, waiting for the right moment to name itself.
Mine, my dragon rumbles. She’s ours. Protect her. Claim her. Keep her.
Not yet, I tell it. She’s not ready.
But soon. Gods help us both, it has to be soon.
“Rurik.” Auren appears at my elbow, voice pitched low enough that the women can’t hear. “A word.”
I follow him to the armory’s far corner. His expression is carved from ice, but his eyes hold something that might be concern.
“If this goes wrong—“
“It won’t.”
“If it does.” He grips my arm. Hard. “Get her out. Leave the cousin if you have to, but get your mate out alive. The Brotherhood needs Fire-Bringers. And you...” His grip tightens. “You need her.”
“She’s not my mate.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence.” Auren releases me. “I’ve watched you chase women for three centuries. This is different. She’s different. And if you lose her because you were too stubborn to admit what she is to you...”
He doesn’t finish. Doesn’t need to.
I glance back at Aisling, who’s helping Selene adjust her armor straps. Her red hair catches the torchlight. Her hands have stopped shaking.
“I won’t lose her,” I say. “Whatever it takes.”
“See that you don’t.” Auren’s voice softens—fractionally. “And Rurik? Try not to get yourself killed either. Paperwork is tedious enough without having to file death reports.”
I grin. “Was that almost sentimental? Should I hug you?”
“Touch me and I’ll have Zyphon dump you in the training yard.”
“There’s the Auren I know and tolerate.”
His mouth twitches. Almost a smile. “Go. Save your Fire-Bringer’s cousin. And try to bring the mountain down on Valdris’s head while you’re at it.”