Chapter 7 Esme
ESME
The world narrows to the three cells. To the men inside them.
My gaze locks on Dayn, and the dungeon’s chill is instantly incinerated by a wave of heat that ignites through my veins.
Our bond, thrumming to life inside me. My skin and nerves prickle with awareness.
The etched band on my finger feels suddenly warmer, heavier.
He stands motionless behind the bars, shoulders squared, jaw tight—but his eyes, those impossible gold eyes, burn into mine with an intensity that makes the stone walls around us feel like they're made of tissue paper, ready to disintegrate at his command. Or mine.
He's here. Alive. The relief that rushes through me is immediately chased by something darker, hungrier.
Even locked in a cage like some rare, lethal beast, his power slams into me—a tidal wave of raw energy that doesn't just call to my bones but threatens to hollow them out and fill them with liquid fire.
A sharp, humorless laugh escapes my throat. I turn to Corvin, my voice dripping with disbelief. “Are you serious? You think this can hold them?”
Warden Blythe shifts uncomfortably, while a slow, dark smile tugs at Dayn’s lips. He doesn’t look at Corvin or Blythe. His molten gold eyes are fixed on me. “That’s a good question, of course,” Dayn says.
He lifts a hand and casually presses his palm against the thick, rune-etched bars of his cell, and the metal simply…
melts. It turns to liquid silver under his touch, dripping onto the stone floor with a sizzle, pooling and hardening into a misshapen puddle.
The containment runes flicker and die with a pathetic hiss.
The entire process is silent, effortless, and utterly unnerving.
Of course, with my added darkblood power now tangled up in his veins, this is child’s play for him. Darkbirch’s spiritual power source hasn’t even finished recovering yet.
Dayn steps through the gaping hole in his cell door, the molten steel still dripping around the edges.
“We were just being courteous,” he explains, his voice a low rumble that echoes in the confined space. “As I have already indicated, we are here as allies, not prisoners. And we bring the same warning Esme does.” He finally tears his gaze from mine to look at Corvin. “The dragons are coming.”
Byzu and Chad don’t move in their cells yet, but they don’t need to. The air crackles with tension. Corvin and Blythe stand staring at Dayn, while my own heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic, chaotic rhythm of relief and fury. He’s here. He’s safe. And he… left me in that collapsing hellscape.
He looks back at me, amber eyes darkening as they rake over me. “Glad to see my wife made it out of Draethys,” he says. His voice drops, laced with that possessive tone that makes my pulse trip—half anger, half something much more dangerous.
“Wife,” I repeat, the word tasting like ash and the bitterest irony.
I cross my arms, a flimsy barricade against the force of his presence.
“That’s rich. Leaving aside the part where I never actually agreed to be your wife, last I checked, husbands don’t abandon their wives in the middle of enemy territory during a coup. ”
Heat flickers in the gold of his irises as he takes a step closer.
The space between us contracts, a charged vacuum that steals air from my lungs.
“I didn’t abandon you. I created a diversion.
A rather spectacular one, if I do say so myself.
I assumed a witch of your… talents would take the opportunity I provided. ”
“You assumed,” I say, holding my stance, refusing to give ground.
For a moment, the heat in me burns so bright I forget where we are—that my superiors, Corvin and Blythe, and my sister, are all within earshot, staring.
Completely unlike me. But I can’t seem to stop.
“You left,” I almost hiss. “Without a word. You kissed me and then you vanished, because that’s what you do.
You make unilateral decisions that affect my life and expect me to just be grateful for the scraps of information you deign to toss my way! ”
He studies me for a moment, expression unreadable. One corner of his mouth shifts, but it’s not quite a smile. “So that’s it?” he says. “You’re angry I disappeared… or that I kissed you first?”
My blood runs hot. “Don’t.” The word is a ragged warning, even as my stomach traitorously flips.
I can feel Brynn’s horrified stare on us, can sense Corvin’s utter bafflement, but it’s still faded into the background.
There is only the charged space between me and this impossible, infuriating dragon.
“Now is hardly the time for… whatever this is,” Corvin cuts in, his voice strained as he tries to reclaim some semblance of authority.
Dayn doesn’t even glance at him, his eyes locked on mine.
“On the contrary, Head Trainer. This is exactly the time. Our… dispute… is a microcosm of the entire problem. My brother is about to lead an army to your doorstep because of assumptions. Because of a failure to communicate. Because he, like my wife here, is entirely too stubborn for his own good.”
He reaches out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. The touch is light, barely there, but it sends a jolt through my entire system, a shockwave of heat and recognition that makes my knees feel weak. I flinch back, but not before the damage is done.
“Don’t touch me,” I whisper, the words lacking their intended venom.
His voice drops, low enough that only I can hear it. “Then stop looking at me like that.” His gaze flicks to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “We’ll deal with the rest later—somewhere private.”
The promise in his tone is a threat and an invitation, and I hate that I can’t immediately tell which one I want it to be more. This godsdamned dragon.
He finally turns his attention to Corvin, his posture shifting from possessive predator to exiled king. “As I was saying. We are allies. And we have a great deal to discuss.”
“Indeed, we do.” Warden Blythe recovers, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. She exchanges a dark, meaningful look with Corvin, the surprise on her face merged into a grim resolve.
And something tells me I’m about to dislike what my own people have planned just as much as what the dragon has.