Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
TAMSIN
The war council has gone silent. I’m dimly aware of the others watching us—Drayke’s measuring gaze, Selene’s barely concealed concern, Nasyra’s knowing expression. But my focus is on Auren, on the battle playing out behind his eyes.
He’s afraid.
Not of Morrigan. Not of the tactical challenges or the strategic risks. He’s afraid of losing me. The realization hits me with the force of a physical blow, stealing my breath, making my fire flare in response to the emotion I can’t quite contain.
“The plan requires modification.”
His voice has gone flat. Clinical. The voice of a strategist solving a problem—except for the way his jaw is clenched, the way frost has begun creeping across the table beneath his fingertips.
“If you’re the bait, you need a handler. Someone close enough to intervene if the trap springs wrong. Someone who knows Morrigan’s methods, who can recognize her patterns, who won’t hesitate when the moment comes.” He pauses. “I’m the logical choice.”
“Auren—”
“I’ve studied her for decades.” He cuts me off, still not looking at me, still maintaining that clinical distance even as the frost spreads further. “I know how she thinks. How she builds her rituals. Where she positions her fail-safes. If anyone can anticipate her moves, it’s me.”
“You’re volunteering to walk into her stronghold.” Drayke’s voice is careful. “With the woman she specifically wants to capture. That’s not strategy, Auren. That’s—”
“It’s the only configuration that maximizes survival probability.
” Auren’s voice cracks on the last word.
Just barely. Just enough for me to hear.
“She won’t expect me to be inside with Tamsin.
She’ll expect me coordinating from a distance, playing to my strengths. My presence changes her calculations.”
I should argue. Should point out that his presence will complicate the deception, that Morrigan specifically wants to hurt him, that having him close puts both of us at greater risk.
Instead, I hear what he’s not saying. I’m not losing someone else. I won’t survive it twice.
“Agreed.” I keep my voice steady. “You’re my contingency.”
His eyes finally meet mine. Something raw flashes in their depths before the ice reasserts itself. He nods once, sharp and precise, then turns back to the table.
“We’ll need a detailed assault plan.” His voice has regained its professional edge, though I can hear the roughness still lurking beneath. “Multiple contingencies. Fallback positions. A way to extract both of us if the trap closes faster than anticipated.”
“I might have something useful.” Nasyra pushes away from the wall.
“Lakhu talked about Morrigan when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
He didn’t trust her—said she was too obsessed with her own agenda to be reliable.
” She glances at me. “He mentioned she has a ritual chamber at the heart of her stronghold. Everything else is just defense layers around that central room.”
“That seems right.” I nod slowly. “Morrigan was always single-minded. Build everything around the goal, sacrifice anything that doesn’t serve it.”
“Which means if we can bypass the outer defenses, we go straight for the heart.” Rurik’s voice is light, but his eyes are serious. “Walking into a blood mage’s stronghold with nothing but attitude and white fire. Insane, but efficient.”
“Insane is what we do best.” Selene grins, though there’s worry in her expression. “Drayke, what do we know about her fortress? Location, defenses, anything useful?”
Drayke moves to the table, spreading out a map I hadn’t noticed before. “Morrigan’s stronghold is here—” He points to a region marked in dark ink. “—in the borderlands between Valdoria’s ruins and Shadow Clan territory. Deliberately positioned where neither dragon law nor human law holds sway.”
I study the map, recognizing the geography from my Valdorian education. The borderlands were always wild, dangerous, full of old magic and older grudges. The perfect place for someone who wants to disappear.
“The terrain is hostile.” Auren has moved to stand beside me, close enough that our shoulders nearly touch. “Marshes, forests thick with magical traps, mists that confuse direction and distance. A full day’s flight from here, but the approach will need to be carefully planned.”
“What about her defenses?” Aisling’s practical voice cuts through. “We know she has wards. Shadow constructs. What else?”
“The fortress itself is designed to unsettle.” Drayke’s expression darkens. “Reports describe architecture that doesn’t follow normal rules. Towers at wrong angles. Walls that shift when no one’s watching. She’s spent decades making it into a nightmare.”
“I can navigate it.” The words surprise me, but I know they’re true. “I grew up in Valdorian architecture—witch-style construction with wards built into every stone. Morrigan would have used similar principles. Different intent, but the same foundation.”
“That’s actually useful.” Rurik sounds almost impressed. “You can read the building. Know where the traps are likely to be.”
“I can read where they should be. Morrigan will have added her own modifications, things only she would think of.” I trace the map with my finger, trying to imagine my sister’s thought process. “But I know how she learned to build. I can work backward from that.”
“Three days.” Drayke’s voice carries the weight of command. “We prepare—scout the approach, finalize the plan, ensure everyone knows their role. Then we move.”
Not even a full week. A lifetime and an instant, all wrapped into one impossible deadline. I’ve been waiting for this confrontation since I was seven years old. Since Morrigan first looked at me with jealousy instead of love.
“What about the Crown?” Selene’s question is carefully neutral. “If Morrigan gets her hands on it—”
“She won’t.” I touch my chest, where the Relic rests in its dormant form. “It stays with me. If things go wrong, I can use it—channel enough power to burn through whatever trap she’s prepared.”
“Using the Crown is dangerous.” Auren’s voice is sharp with concern. “You haven’t practiced your control over it.”
I meet his eyes, letting him see my determination. “I won’t be helpless in there. I won’t be the damsel who needs rescuing. Whatever happens, I face it with everything I have.”
“Even if untested.”
“Yes.” I keep my chin lifted, foolish or not.
Something shifts in his expression—frustration giving way to something that might be respect. Or something deeper than respect, something he’s still not ready to name.
The council continues, but the important decisions have been made. We’re going on the offensive. I’m walking into my sister’s fortress as bait, and Auren is coming with me whether either of us thinks it’s wise.
The meeting ends with assignments and timelines.
Drayke will coordinate the assault forces.
Rurik handles weapons and explosives—apparently his “emergency supplies” are finally going to see legitimate use.
Zyphon scouts the approach, using his shadow abilities to gather intelligence without being detected.
The Fire-Bringers will support from various positions, their flames creating diversions and covering fire.
And Auren and I will walk into the heart of Morrigan’s power and trust that our plan holds.
People file out, discussing logistics and preparations. Selene squeezes my hand as she passes, a silent show of support. Aisling presses a small vial into my palm—emergency healing potion, she murmurs. Nasyra meets my eyes with a look that says she understands exactly what I’m walking into.
Then it’s just Auren and me, standing on opposite sides of the table, the map of Morrigan’s territory spread between us.
“You’re angry with me.” It’s not a question.
“I’m terrified for you.” The admission comes out raw, unguarded. “There’s a difference.”
Something cracks open in my chest. This dragon—this impossible, frozen, infuriating dragon—is standing in front of me with his walls down, fear written across features that usually show nothing. For me. He’s afraid for me.
“I know.” I move around the table, closing the distance between us.
My heart is doing something inconvenient, beating too fast, responding to his vulnerability with a surge of feeling I’m not prepared for.
“I’m terrified too. But I can’t let that stop me.
If I hide here while others fight my battles, while others die because Morrigan is hunting me—” I shake my head. “I won’t be that person. I can’t be.”
“Even if it kills you?”
“Even then.” I stop in front of him, close enough to see the flecks of amber in his golden eyes. Close enough to feel the cold radiating from his skin, to watch the way his chest rises and falls with breaths that aren’t quite steady. “But I’d prefer it didn’t. Which is why you’re coming with me.”
His laugh is quiet, almost surprised. “You realize that’s not comforting. You’re saying you’d rather die together than die alone.”
“I’m saying I’d rather not die at all, but if I’m facing impossible odds, I want your brain working the problem.
Not watching from a safe distance.” I reach out, touch his arm—feel the chill of his skin through his sleeve, the way his frost rises instinctively before gentling at my touch.
The contact sends something electric through me, the same spark I felt in training, in the library.
“I trust you, Auren. To plan. To strategize. To see the angles I miss. And to pull me out if the angles turn sharp.”
“I already did that.” His voice has gone rough again. “Caught you. When you threw yourself off a rampart like a lunatic.”
“So you have practice.” I smile despite the gravity of what we’re discussing. “And last night—you caught me then too. Carried me to my room when I fell asleep at your table.”
Something flickers in his expression—surprise that I remembered, maybe. Or something softer. “You were exhausted. The library floor isn’t designed for sleeping.”
“You could have woken me.”
“You needed rest.” He’s looking at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “You push yourself too hard. Someone needs to make sure you survive your own determination.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Making sure I survive?”
“That’s the mission objective, yes.” But his voice catches on the clinical phrasing. Betrays him. “Acceptable losses don’t include you.”
My fire flares—not with power, but with something deeper. Warmer. This man who spent decades hating everything my bloodline represented is standing here telling me I matter. Not the Crown. Not my power. Me.
I don’t know which of us moves first. His hand comes up to cup my face, cold against my warmth, and I lean into the touch without hesitation. My own hand finds his chest, resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath my palm. He’s so cold, and I’m so warm, and somehow we balance.
I look up at him—really look. At the sharp angles of his face, softened now by something he’s not quite ready to name. At the mouth that so rarely smiles but is almost smiling now. At the eyes that have been watching me since I arrived, cataloging, assessing, and somewhere along the way, wanting.
“Morrigan will learn what happens when she underestimates a true Valdorian princess.”
He doesn’t kiss me. I think we both know that if he started, neither of us would want to stop, and there’s too much to do, too many preparations to make.
But I feel the moment he considers it—the slight tightening of his fingers against my cheek, the way his gaze drops to my mouth for just a heartbeat before returning to my eyes.
I want him to. The realization hits me with startling clarity. I want this cold, calculating dragon to kiss me until neither of us can think. Want to know what it feels like when ice finally melts.
He nods once, sharp and precise, then turns and walks away. I watch him go—the controlled stride, the rigid shoulders, the man who just held my face like I was something precious and then retreated before either of us could acknowledge what that meant.
My cheek is still cold where his fingers rested. I press my own hand to the spot, feeling the ghost of his touch, the frost patterns already fading against my warmth.
Before the week is out, we march on Morrigan’s stronghold. I face the sister who destroyed everything I loved.
But right now, standing in an empty war room with my heart beating too fast and my skin still tingling from a touch that meant everything, I’m not thinking about Morrigan.
I’m thinking about a dragon who’s terrified of losing me. And how terrified I am of what that makes me feel.
And somehow, that terrifies me less than going in alone.