Page 19 of Fated By Fire

“Malakai’s here,” she says, crisply. “He’s insisting on seeing you.”

I groan. Just what I need—another lecture from the old man. “Send him in.”

The door swings open before she can respond, and Malakai strides in. His steel-gray hair is slicked back, his beard neatly trimmed, but his eyes are sharp, cutting through me like a blade. He doesn’t wait for an invitation; just drops into the chair across from my desk like he owns the place.

“Caleb,” he says by way of greeting, his voice gravelly and too damn familiar.

“Malakai,” I acknowledge, leaning back in my chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He snorts at my sarcasm, leaning forward. “The Heartstone’s acting up. You know why?”

“If I knew, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” I say, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. But it’s there, simmering just beneath the surface. I’m tired of playing this game, tired of everyone expecting me to have all the answers when half the time, I’m just trying to keep my head above water.

Malakai’s lips thin. “Your father would’ve known.”

The words are meant to hurt, and fuck it, they do. I don’t let it show. I refuse to let him think he’s winning this ridiculous game he insists on playing. Instead, I set my elbows on the desk and meet his gaze head-on.

“My father’s not here. It’s just me. So if you’ve got something useful to say, say it. Otherwise, don’t waste my time.”

For a moment, he just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then he sighs, leaning back in his chair. “You’re too much like him, you know that? Stubborn. Arrogant. Always thinking you’re the smartest person in the room.”

“And yet, here you are, asking for my help,” I counter, my voice hard.

Malakai’s lips twitch, almost a smile. “Fair point.” He taps his fingers on the armrest, the sound grating on my already frayed nerves. “The Heartstone’s reacting to something—or someone. You need to figure out what’s changed.”

“Something’s always changing,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. The answer feels just out of reach, taunting me like some cruel joke. I’m missing something. Something big.

“Not like this,” he says, his tone grave. “This feels… different. Older.”

I glance at the window, the city lights blurring as I think.

Different. Older.

The words echo in my mind because they ring true. This sensation I’ve felt has my nerves on end, and as much as I’ve tried to identify it, nothing clicks. There’s a puzzle here, pieces scattered everywhere, and I can’t see the damn picture.

As much as I hate to admit it, the male sitting in front of me is probably the most qualified to answer these questions. Malakai Steele has held his post for the past four hundred years. He’s the only one I know who saw the reign of the last dragon king, Kael Craven, and holds more knowledge about our clan than anyone. As for the Heartstone, he was the one who designed the vault it’s kept in.

“Do you think the stone is in danger?” I ask.

“That’s your responsibility, boy,” he says. “I just came here to see what you’re planning to do about it.”

God, he’s such a pain in the ass.

“Doesn’t hurt to have outside input, Steele. You’re among the oldest of us. What are your instincts telling you?”

“My instincts are saying that you should be more focused,” he says, flicking a hand at my desk.

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve got a new hire,” he says. He’s looking at the folder in front of me.

I stiffen, my gaze snapping back to him. “What about her?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You tell me.”

I frown at him. “I don’t get your point.”

“Well, I’m guessing there’s something about her that has your attention. Or you wouldn’t have that folder on your desk. Unless it’s because she looks like… that.”

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