Page 27 of Fated By Fire

“Probably because she died to save it. To save our line. And she didn’t willingly try to steal it. She was forced. You know all of this.” I empty my coffee cup and pull a face. I probably need another, considering the way my brain is misfiring.

“Sure I do,” Dorian huffs. “I didn’t ask for a history lesson.”

“Then I don’t need to tell you that the Oath isn’t something we take lightly.”

“Of course I don’t take it lightly. We’re honor-bound to protect Lyria’s line. But we lost contact with her last descendant years ago, Caleb.”

“I know. And that doesn’t sit well with me. We had a duty to them. A duty to honor them. To honor Lyria’s sacrifice.” My tone has grown taut. This is something I take seriously, but it seems that my kind has begun to forget its obligations.

“It’s hard to honor anything when they’re no longer around. And we both know that was deliberate. They hid from us. For all we know, there aren’t any left.”

“Did they hide?” I lean forward. “Or did we simply stop keeping an eye on them?”

“Does it matter?” He shrugs.

“Of course it matters, Dorian!” I can’t believe he’d be so cavalier about this. “Lyria Rossewyn gave her life to make sure that our enemies wouldn’t get their hands on a tool to control us. She didn’t have to do that. She could have saved her brother and herself and vanished.”

“And she didn’t,” he concedes. “I know. But that was fucking four hundred years ago, Caleb. Surely our duty is done?”

“Are you kidding me?” I stare at him. “A dragon’s oath is as immortal as we are. We stand by it. We all do. Fucking forever, dammit! I can’t believe—”

“Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands. “Jesus, Caleb. No need to get into a froth.”

I pull in a breath, settling myself. I don’t usually fly off the handle, but I’m on edge for some reason. A faint pull in my chest has me taking another deep breath. The Heartstone. I know that’s what it is. As its guardian, I’ve always been connected. But this feeling is unfamiliar. It’s like having another pulse.

Dorian is still talking. “…this subject, anyway,” he’s saying. “I’d much rather know why you’ve been toying with that pretty little thing from archiving.”

I scowl at him. “I’m not toying with anything, Dorian.”

“Sure you’re not. The fact that I’ve seen you locking lips with her not once, but twice, is irrelevant.” He smirks. “Seriously, brother, you can’t blame me for being curious. You never spare a glance at the fairer sex. If I hadn’t seen you with the occasional socialite, I would have thought you were… you know. Into boys.”

“For God’s sake, Dorian!” I snap.

“Not that I’m judging.” He waves a hand. “I’m fully on board with any life choices you make. I just want to know that you’re happy.”

I stare at him for a moment. “You’ve been watching too muchDr. Phil,” I say gruffly.

“And you spend too much time at your desk. That worries me. After Dad—”

“I don’t want to talk about Dad,” I cut him off. “In fact, I don’t want to talk about any of this. The archivist is off the table.” As I say it, I feel another strange pulse. For some reason, I don’t like the idea of her being drawn into any of this. And that’s ridiculous because I barely even know the woman. Not to mention that my interactions with her have hardly been conventional.

She was snooping…

I brush the thought away. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe she really was just lost. And maybe I’m looking for reasons to see her again.

That’s bullshit.

I was just being cautious. But now, what I probably need to do is leave her alone. I have bigger things to worry about.

“I’m done here,” Dorian is saying. He’s patting his top pocket as he’s standing. “I want to get a number from a certain barista…” He glances over his shoulder.

“Sure.” I give a curt nod. “Knock yourself out.”

“Good chat.” He grins. He’s already turning from me.

I watch as he walks toward the counter.

Good chat?

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