Chapter 28
Burning
The following week passes in uneasy quiet. There are no more summons—only stillness and the echo of everything left unsaid. Eventually, a banquet is announced for the month’s end. The king will present us with gifts, tokens for the final Trial. Until then, we are left to ourselves.
Keiren does come once, but not for long, and not for explanations. He brings a small tray with a cup of bitter-smelling herbal tea and sets it beside me without ceremony. He asks how Cassy is—nothing else—and tells me that if I need anything, I am to send word to him, no matter the hour.
Then he leaves before I can decide what to say to him.
The days fill themselves regardless.
I bury myself in long baths and even longer books, trying not to count the hours. Mariel stays close, but her laughter dims more with every sunrise. Seraphina withdraws entirely; we scarcely see her apart from mealtimes.
Cassy… unravels.
She whispers to herself constantly, her voice low and sing-song, like the tattered remnants of a nursery rhyme: “Fire burns beneath… The dragon wears his skin like armor… A cursed heart forgets how to beat…”
Sometimes she traces the hollow between her collarbones until her nails leave half-moons of blood. We dress her, brush her hair, coax her to eat—but her gaze drifts further from us with every passing day. It’s as if she’s fading from the inside out.
One evening, when Mariel and I help her into a pale blue gown, we see her bones press against her skin.
“She’s getting worse,” Mariel whispers, gently combing through Cassy’s tangled curls. “I don’t know how much more she can take.”
Neither do I.
That night, I change into the green silk gown Marb lays out for me. A small vial of violet liquid sits beside it, labeled in her delicate hand: To help you sleep.
But I’m not tired, not really. I curl in bed, propped up by a pillow, a book open in my lap, moonlight spilling across the pages.
It’s a tale of dragon riders, of a sisterhood bound by flame and oath, their courage outlasting the empires that fall all around them.
As I read, I imagine what it might feel like to be one of them.
To ride fire. To survive the final Trial.
To write the ending of my own story, even if it costs me blood and bone.
At some point, I must have drifted off, because the next thing I hear is a soft knock at my door.
My eyes snap open. The moon hangs higher in the sky now, silvering the floorboards.
“Come in,” I murmur, my voice hoarse from sleep.
The door creaks open, and Cassy peeks her head through. Her eyes are rimmed red, her blanket clutched around her shoulders like armor. “I… I had another dream.”
I close the book, my heart already sinking. “Was it the dragon again?”
She nods. “He spoke this time. But it wasn’t words. It was fire. It got inside me.” Her voice trembles. “And then I was burning.”
My chest tightens. “Cassy—”
“Can I stay here?” she interrupts softly. “Just for a little while. I used to sleep beside my sister when the nights got bad.”
I lift the covers. “Of course.”
She pads across the room on bare feet and climbs beneath the sheets, curling toward the wall.
The fire crackles softly in the hearth. For a while, we lie there in silence, listening to it breathe.
“You remind me of her,” Cassy murmurs, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
“Your sister?”
“No. You.”
I blink. “Cassy, I’m r—”
But she’s already asleep.
I let the words die on my tongue, staring into the flames as shadows dance across her face. I reach over and brush a strand of hair from her brow.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper.
But even as I say it, a cold shiver coils down my spine. Because somewhere in the silence, I swear I hear something else breathing back.
***
I wake to voices in the dark. Low whispers, too close.
“Which one?”
I’m fully alert in an instant, though I dare not open my eyes too wide.
Moonlight carves silver across the floor. Cassy is lying beside me, curled on her side, her hand resting loosely against her chest like a child.
Two shadows loom at the foot of the bed.
“Does it matter?” one hisses. “Kill them both.”
Blades gleam in their hands.
I don’t think—just move, throwing myself over Cassy just as the dagger plunges down.
Pain explodes through my ribs, hot and blinding.
I scream. The sound rips the quiet apart, jolting Cassy awake. Her shriek joins mine, piercing the dark.
I roll, yank my dagger free from its sheath in my bedside table, and kick out as hard as I can. My foot connects with the nearest attacker’s chest. He grunts and stumbles back as the second attacker lunges, steel flashing.
Too fast to even think, I parry his lunge with the bloodied blade. Sparks fly, and we grapple over the daggers, close and breathless. My wound burns, and hot blood seeps down my side.
Then the door slams open, and a fierce voice cuts through the chaos. “Get off her!”
Mariel.
She charges, candlestick raised like a weapon, swinging with all her strength. The blow catches one oark across the jaw, breaking one of his tusks with a sickening crack. He reels but doesn’t fall.
Snarling, he grabs her by the hair and hurls her against the wall. The thud of skin on stone makes my stomach lurch, and she crumples.
I twist just in time to catch a knee to the gut, sending my dagger skidding across the floor. The other oark grabs me from behind, his arm crushing my chest. I thrash, claw, bite—anything to get free. Finally, I sink my teeth into his ear, and he howls in pain.
“You little bitch!”
His fist crashes into my face so hard that stars burst behind my eyes.
The two oarks drag me toward the wall. One pins my arms back while the other raises his blade.
“Die already!”
This is how it ends. Not in the Trials. Not in fire. But here, helpless in the dark.
A furious roar splits the air.
The first assassin turns—too slow.
Keiren crashes through the doorway like a storm made flesh—blade, fury, and shadow, all in one. He doesn’t fight like a man; he moves like wrath incarnate. Every strike is precise, lethal.
The other creature tries to run, but Keiren catches him and snaps his neck.
In the seconds that follow, the only sound is our ragged breathing.
Keiren drops to his knees beside me, his sword clattering to the floor. “Fire—”
“I’m fine,” I rasp. “Cassy and Mariel—”
I try to stand, but my vision spins. I collapse back, and he catches me just in time. His arms are trembling. Rage? Fear? I can’t tell.
Mae bursts in, Arther close behind. Her skirts sweep across pools of blood as she rushes to Mariel, then Cassy.
“She’s alive,” Mae breathes. “They both are.” She drops to her knees beside me. “Let me see.”
I flinch as she lifts my arm to reveal a sickly green sheen that glistens around the wound in my ribs, slowly spreading outward.
“Fireroot,” Mae whispers, voice tight with dread. She turns to Keiren. “The sword must’ve been laced with it.”
Keiren’s face hardens into stone. “I’ll take care of her. Take the others to the infirmary. Now.”
Mae hesitates, glancing between us, then nods. Arther lifts Mariel with impossible gentleness. Blood trails down from her temple. Mae gathers Cassy close, murmuring quiet reassurances as she guides her toward the door.
When it closes, silence settles in their wake, thick and suffocating.
My vision blurs as Keiren’s face hovers inches from mine, shifting into something familiar. My heart begins to pound.
No, not Keiren’s face. His.
The scent of wine and iron floods my senses. Hands too rough. Breath that reeks of power and cruelty. A voice that snarls my name like it’s a curse.
I’m back in that room. Pinned down. Screaming. Unheard.
“No!” The word tears from my throat as I shove at his chest. “Get away from me!”
“Fire—”
“Don’t touch me!” I scramble back, dragging my dagger with me. My whole body trembles, slick with sweat. The wound in my side burns like fire tearing through my ribs. My vision fractures, flicking from his face to Keiren’s.
“It’s the poison,” he says softly. His voice sounds far away. “Whatever you’re seeing—it’s not real.”
“I can’t move,” I whisper through clenched teeth. The pain twists, deeper now, pulsing like a second heartbeat.
He takes a slow breath, raising his hands with his palms open like a peace offering. “Then let me carry you.”
“Don’t—please.” The words come out broken, desperate.
“Guide me,” he says quietly. “Show me where I can touch you.”
“I can’t… ”
“Yes, you can.” His voice is adamant. “You’re the fiercest, most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, and you will not die tonight.”
Something in his tone breaks through the panic. I nod, barely. My hands shake as I reach out, placing one of his hands at my back and the other under my knees.
Only then does he move, lifting me into his arms with impossible care. The motion sends another wave of agony through my body. I choke on a cry and collapse against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat anchoring me as the world starts to slip away.
When I wake, I’m falling. No—flying. The wind roars incessantly past my ears. My body jolts as if dropped into a river of ice. I scream, flailing, lungs locking up—
And then his arms are there, cutting through the cold.
My back presses against his chest, and the world steadies.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my ear. His hot breath ghosts over my skin.
“It burns,” I gasp. The pain is molten, snaking through my veins.
“I know, love,” he whispers. “Just hold on.”
I sob, clutching at him like the sound of his voice is my only tether to reality. The cold water sears where it touches the wound. The sizzling hiss of it is terrible, like flesh meeting flame.
“Guess I’ve earned my nickname,” I gasp, half-delirious.
“Shhh.” His tone softens into something almost like prayer. “I’ve got you.”
The water glows faintly where my blood hits it. The green light curls and thins before disappearing into steam.
My teeth chatter, mirroring my body. “Distract me. Please.” I whisper. “Tell me a story.”