Page 22 of Naga Warlord's Mate

Andear’s claws dug into his palms. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to strike if Zarlok made one wrong move. The Xirath leader’s forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, tasting her defiance.

“The Xirath Dominion has breeding facilities masked as medical centers,” Priscilla continued. “Is that what you want for Nirum? To become what you fought so hard to overcome?”

Pride and terror warred in Andear’s chest. She spoke truth—dangerous, necessary truth. His little warrior, facing down an empire without a weapon. The mate bond thrummed stronger, and for the first time, he didn’t fight it.

Andear’s tail coiled impossibly tighter beneath him as the council’s chamber crackled with tension. Several of the older council members shifted in their seats, their scales bristling at this unprecedented breach of protocol. A human speaking out of turn? In their sacred chamber? His warrior’s instincts roared at him to act, to assert control, but his chest swelled with conflicting pride at her courage.

Councilor Merat’s spines flared in irritation. “This is an outrage! A human has no place—”

The mate bond surged between them, strong and insistent. Andear’s claws dug deep into his palms as he battled the urge to wrap around Priscilla and shield her from the growing hostility in the room. But she stood tall, her chin lifted, those eyes blazing with conviction.

The younger council members exchanged uncertain glances. Priscilla’s words had struck true—too true. They all knew the dark history of human exploitation, the very practices they’d fought to eliminate from their society. Yet here they were,entertaining an alliance with those who still embraced such barbarism.

Andear’s tail lashed, betraying his inner turmoil. As warlord, he should stop her. As her mate—though unclaimed—he should protect her. The conflict tore at him, leaving him frozen between duty and instinct.

Zarlok’s eyes fixed on Priscilla, his scaled lips curving into a predatory smile that made Andear’s blood boil. The Xirath leader leaned forward.

“And what do you suggest, little human?” Zarlok’s voice dripped with false sweetness. “That Nirum turn down such an opportunity for the sake of sentiment?”

Andear watched as Priscilla’s small hands curled into fists. Her defiance radiated through their mate bond.

“It’s not sentiment. It’s morality.” Her voice cut through the chamber.

His scales rippled with tension. No human had ever dared challenge the Xirath so openly. The council’s chamber crackled with an energy that made his warrior’s instincts surge. His claws flexed, ready to strike if needed, though he fought to maintain his stoic facade.

Zarlok’s obsidian eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. The Xirath leader’s forked tongue flicked out, tasting Priscilla’s defiance inthe air. Andear’s muscles bunched, preparing to launch himself between them if necessary.

The council erupted into chaos. Councilor Merat slammed his fist on the marble table. “This human speaks treason!”

Andear’s tail twitched uncontrollably as the arguments escalated. Every word from Priscilla’s lips echoed his own warnings from weeks ago. The same passion, the same fierce protection of what was right. His chest swelled with pride even as anxiety churned in his gut. She fought with words where he would have used blade and fang, but their hearts beat with the same warrior’s rhythm.

The mate bond hummed stronger, and he decided he wasn’t going to fight it anymore. How could he, when she embodied everything he valued? Her courage, her unwavering conviction—she was proving herself a warrior in her own right, even as she stood there in her fragile human form.

Andear watched Priscilla’s spine straighten as the debate raged around her. She hadn’t once looked his way, hadn’t sought his protection or approval. His little mate stood on her own merit, fighting their shared battle. The realization hit him like a blow to the chest. The gods had chosen her for him because of how perfectly they aligned where it mattered most.

His scales suddenly bristled as the council’s fury reached a crescendo. The council members’ voices overlapped in a cacophony of outrage, their scales flashing warning colors in the chamber’s dim light.

“Silence her now!” Councilor Merat growled. “This human has no right—”

“Remove her at once—” another voice cut through.

For the first time since she’d begun speaking, Priscilla’s confidence wavered. Her eyes found his, a silent plea in their depths. The mate bond pulsed between them, carrying her fear, her uncertainty—and beneath it all, her unwavering conviction that she was right.

Something snapped inside Andear’s chest. His protective instincts roared, drowning out decades of political maneuvering and careful restraint. She thought he would abandon her to face this alone. His little warrior, who had fought so hard to prove herself worthy, now needed him to fight alongside her.

His tail propelled him forward in one fluid motion. The marble floor cracked beneath the force of his movement as he positioned himself within inches of the council members. The chamber fell silent at his approach, the council members drawing back instinctively from his imposing presence.

“She speaks the truth.” His voice cut through the chamber like a blade, deep and final. The mate bond thrummed with approval as Priscilla’s shoulders straightened.

Zarlok’s eyes narrowed. “Warlord Andear, surely you don’t support this... disruption?”

“I support honor.” Andear’s tail curled protectively near Priscilla’s feet, though he didn’t touch her. “And there is no honor in building alliances with those who would enslave the innocent.”

The council’s chamber erupted again, but Andear held Zarlok’s gaze. Let them rage. Let them threaten. He was done watching from the shadows while others fought his battles. His mate had shown more courage than any warrior in his ranks, and he would stand with her now in this moment, and from now on.

His scales suddenly rippled with barely contained rage as Zarlok’s eyes fixed on Priscilla with predatory intent. The Xirath’s claws scraped against the marble table, a sound that made Andear’s warrior blood surge with protective fury. The mate bond pulsated with warning. Zarlok wouldn’t forget this slight. His little mate had just painted a target on her back.

As the council dispersed, Andear slithered closer to Priscilla. “I’m escorting you home.”

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