Page 40 of Burned to Obey

I exhale, recalling the savage realities of that sand. “They’ll be given basic armor, a set of standard weapons. Then they fight in a ring for the public. If they win three consecutive matches, they can rejoin labor or have a reduced sentence. If they lose…” I let the words trail off.

She nods grimly. “A harsh fate.”

“Harsh but fair.” I struggle not to recall my brother’s final moments. “Without that system, we’d drown in vendettas.” I glance at her. “Why ask?”

She shrugs, wincing a bit. “Curiosity. I’ve seen the dark elf approach to punishment—no chance to fight or appeal, just torment. Here, you give them a sliver of possibility. Doesn’t make it gentle, but it’s…less monstrous.”

A faint tension eases in my chest at her acknowledgement. “We try.”

She halts near the fountain, resting a hand on its edge. The water trickles, lapping at a stone basin, softening the fortress’s ever-present hush. She stares into the water’s surface, reflection wavering. “I heard talk you nearly ended them on the spot,” she says quietly. “Some said you considered killing them outright.”

I tense. “I was furious. But that’s not how I handle justice. Even traitors get a hearing in the Bastion.”

She glances up. “You keep surprising me.”

I swallow hard, sensing the shift in her tone. Less anger, more puzzled respect. “That’s good, I hope.”

Her mouth quirks, a hint of wry humor. “Maybe.” Then she hesitates. “I can’t pretend this brand is forgotten, but I see you’re not the same as the masters I knew. You’re not…a sadist.”

I incline my head. “No. I have enough ghosts. No need to add more.”

A hush falls, thick with unspoken understanding. She turns from the fountain, eyes scanning the courtyard. “You do realizethe Bastion won’t react well if they catch us alone like this. They love gossip.”

I gesture around at the deserted space. “We’re in plain sight, technically. Anyone can approach.” The corner of my mouth lifts in a nearly playful smirk. “Besides, they already gossip.”

She huffs a faint laugh. “True enough. Let them gossip.”

We linger a moment longer. Then the reality of our day presses in—she has quartermaster tasks, and I have a fortress to oversee. I clear my throat. “This evening, I’ll be in my office. There’s a stack of supply issues we need to resolve. If you’re well enough, come. We’ll review them together.”

Her eyes narrow. “An official meeting?”

I shrug. “Yes, but…we can share a meal while we work. Davor can have something brought up.”

She regards me, suspicion and curiosity warring in her expression. “A meal, not in the mess hall?”

I nod. “If you like. We need an hour or two to handle these logs thoroughly. Better to do it in private than with half the Bastion eavesdropping.”

She cocks her head. “Fine. But if this is some ruse to corner me?—”

“It’s not,” I interject, tone firm. “Strictly business. My door stays unbarred.”

She crosses her arms, scanning my face for signs of trickery. “All right. I’ll come by at sundown, after final distribution.”

I release a small breath. “Agreed.” Then I step aside, gesturing for her to return. She moves slowly, favoring her bruised ribs, but strides with more confidence than I expect. I linger behind a moment, letting her vanish into the corridor. My heart beats faster than usual, a reminder of how each exchange with her sparks new friction in my chest.

The day passes in a blur of duties: checks on the prison blocks, a brief argument with a merchant captain complainingabout dock tariffs, a conversation with Captain Davor regarding Thakur’s probable next move. Whispers swirl that Thakur might challenge my decisions in the Senate, but no direct message arrives. By late afternoon, my horns ache from tension, though I press on, meeting with the armory staff to ensure no further contraband seeps in.

As the sun dips, I finally retreat to my office. The space is cramped with shelves of Bastion records, a heavy desk, and a window that overlooks the southwestern courtyard. Outside, the sky glows with the hues of evening: purples and golds streak across the horizon. I exhale, rearranging a stack of ledgers, ensuring we have everything needed for the supply review. My mind drifts to Naeva, wondering if she’ll actually come. The subtle spark in her eyes earlier suggests she will, albeit grudgingly.

A knock at the door disrupts my thoughts. “Enter,” I say, voice even. Captain Davor steps in, carrying a covered tray. A faint aroma of roasted meat and fresh bread wafts from it.

He sets it on a side table. “As you requested, Warden. A meal for two.” He glances around, curiosity flickering. “Shall I remain outside?”

I nod once, ignoring the twinge of awkwardness that tries to surface. “Yes. That’s all.”

He salutes, slipping away. I wait, restless, each passing minute amplifying the sense of crossing an invisible line. This isn’t a date. But it’s more personal than standard protocol.

At last, another knock—quieter, hesitant. My pulse quickens. “Come in,” I say, forcing calm.

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