Chapter 3 #2
"No," he agreed. "You're better. Stronger.
More yourself than you've ever been." His hand slid from my shoulder to cup my cheek, and I found myself leaning into the touch despite every instinct telling me to pull away.
"The girl who convinced me to sneak into sacred groves grew up to be the woman they chose to guard the most important tradition of the year. That's not a coincidence, Pippa."
"What if I'm not enough?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, small and vulnerable in a way that made me want to crawl into a hole and hide.
Jarek's thumb brushed across my cheekbone, and when I looked up at him, his amber eyes were blazing with something fierce and protective.
"Then you'll figure it out as you go," he said simply. "Like you always do. And if you stumble..." His grin was soft, different from his usual sharp-edged smirk. "Well, that's what friends are for, right? To catch you when you fall."
Friends. The word should have been comforting. Should have been safe.
Instead, it felt like a lie. And from the way his scent shifted—woodsmoke deepening into something warmer, more complex—I had the distinct feeling he knew it too.
* * *
"The Hearth does not burn on dragonfire alone," Moriyana said, her ancient voice carrying easily over the murmur of the crowd.
The Grand Luminary's red scales caught the lantern light as she turned to me, her golden eyes warm with something that looked suspiciously like pride.
"It burns brightest when tended by one whose heart is open. "
I swallowed hard. After only one day of preparation, the festival grounds had transformed into something impossible—stalls glowing with enchanted lanterns that painted rainbow light across cobblestones, evergreen garlands shimmering under the midnight moon.
Music drifted from a dozen corners where performers had claimed their spaces.
Above us, dragons circled in lazy spirals, their calls echoing off the Library's ancient walls.
Hundreds of faces turned toward the Hearth's stone circle, lantern light reflecting in their eyes. Supes from across the realm, Library staff, Guild members, townsfolk from Drakehaven—all of them waiting for me to begin the ritual that would officially open the Solstice Festival.
No pressure at all.
This was usually the moment I'd crack a joke.
Deflect with humor, make some quip about definitely setting something on fire that wasn't supposed to burn.
But standing here, feeling the weight of all those expectations, all those hopes written on pages tucked into wish baskets throughout the grounds. ..
I couldn't hide behind laughter tonight.
Please, I thought, the prayer rising from somewhere deep in my chest. Let me do this right. Let me live up to what they see in me. Let me be enough.
"Are you ready, Solstice Keeper?" Moriyana asked, something in her tone suggesting she could hear the prayer I hadn't spoken aloud.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
The Grand Luminary stepped forward, her massive form moving with fluid grace that only the oldest dragons possessed.
She lowered her great head toward the stone circle, and I felt the shift in the air as her magic gathered—ancient, powerful, tinged with the kind of wisdom that came from centuries of watching over this place and its people.
When she breathed, it wasn't just fire that poured from her jaws.
It was life.
Golden flame roared to existence in the center of the stone circle—not orange-red but something deeper, richer, shot through with veins of silver and copper that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The heat hit me like a physical force, but it wasn't burning.
It was warming, reaching into my bones and settling there like it belonged.
The crowd gasped, then erupted into cheers that echoed off the Library walls.
Someone started clapping, the rhythm spreading until it felt like the entire festival was beating in time with the flame.
I stood frozen at the edge of the circle, watching the fire dance and writhe as if it were alive, as if it were listening to every voice raised in celebration.
"Do you feel it?" Moriyana asked, her voice pitched low enough that only I could hear.
I did. The fire wasn't just burning—it was feeding. Not on wood or kindling, but on something else entirely.
My breath caught. This wasn't just a pretty tradition or a quaint festival custom. The Hearth was alive in a way that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the hearts of the people who came here seeking something—comfort, connection, hope for the year ahead.
And for the next seven days, I was responsible for keeping it burning.
The flame pulsed once, twice, then settled into a steady burn that cast dancing shadows across the stone circle. And then I saw him—Jarek, standing closer than the others, watching me with an intensity that made my pulse skip.
Firelight shadowed half his face, amber-gold eyes fixed on mine with something that looked like hunger. Not just pride or relief, but something deeper, more dangerous. My heart hammered as I tried to decipher what I saw there, but the dancing flames made it impossible to be sure.
I had the sudden, overwhelming urge to run to him—to close the space between us and see if whatever I thought I glimpsed in his face was real.
We were friends. Good friends. But the way he was looking at me now, the way my body responded to that look.
.. this felt like something far more dangerous than friendship.
In the crowd beyond him, I caught sight of other familiar faces—Tess beaming at me from where she stood with Mason, their bond-mark glowing faintly in the firelight.
And Callen near the back, his stern expression softened into something that might have been approval.
The cheers began to die down. I turned to face the crowd, raising my voice to carry over the celebration.
"Let the Solstice Festival begin!"
The cheer that went up could probably be heard all the way back in Drakehaven. And as the crowd began to disperse, flowing back toward the stalls and the music and the dozens of small celebrations that would spring up throughout the grounds, I felt a hand brush against mine.
Jarek. He didn't say anything, just let his fingers tangle briefly with mine before stepping back into the crowd. But the touch was enough—warm, steady, full of promise for conversations yet to come.
Heat raced up my arm. Nothing to do with the Hearth's flame, everything to do with the man who'd just claimed a piece of my attention I wasn't sure I was ready to give.