Page 5 of Chained to the Champion
He retreated to the shadows, adjusted the useless wing like he could will it better. He kept his face hidden. At first, I figured he’d ignore me. A Drakarn trick I'd observed too many times: stretch the silence until your nerves snapped.
Then he spoke. “We are far beyond the Great Lava Lake. With my wing as it is, I can't fly us back. On foot, it's more than a moon’s journey.”
A cold pit opened in my gut. “That’s … You’re not saying a month, are you?”
His gaze flickered. “Longer. With my wounds, longer still.”
Great. A month withhim. Why not just sign up for a six-course banquet, “me” as the main dish.
He kept talking like it cost him something, “Unless …”
My head snapped up, reflex sharp as a blade. “Unless what? Unless I sprout wings?”
He didn’t flinch. “Unless we make for Ignarath instead. It is near. Two days, maybe less. But—” He bared his teeth. “It is enemy ground for us both.”
I wanted to laugh. Or maybe scream. “You're suggesting we walk right into the den of vipers that was trying to buy us?”
My original plan had been to make my way to Ignarath … somehow. It was clear now just how foolish I'd been.
He gave a slow, rolling shrug. It was all muscle and implication. “It is a place. Plaktish made it clear they have humans, perhapsyourhumans. Bargaining chips. If we learn why, if we learn what Ignarath plans … Scalvaris gains advantage. The Blade Council?—”
I sliced through that with a glare sharp as glass. “You care about the council, fine. Since when do you give a shit about what happens to us? You don’t even like humans.” I hadn't forgotten what his scheming had almost cost Orla. I still wasn't sure why Rath hadn't ended this guy.
Zarvash’s jaw flexed, and his scales rippled. “I do not.” His words were blunt as a hammer. “But Ignarath grows bold. They are planning something. For what purpose, I do not know. If they seek war, I must know.”
That. That right there, danger beating in the cracks, not hatred or loyalty, just rage at something bigger than either of us. I could almost taste that Ignararth envoy, Plaktish’s oily voice, echoing between my ears. I remembered Khorlar, stone and fury, putting himself between me and the threat. I remembered the way every Drakarn got cagey when Ignarath came up. Even here, with Zarvash, the tension spread on my skin like poison.
“So, we sneak into a city run by killers and slavers, poke around, and hope we don’t end up bartered for claws or chained in a basement? And that’s your best plan?” I shot back, my words dry as desert bones.
His mouth twitched in something almost like a smile. “Alone, I can manage the terrain. With you—” He paused, the silence a knife between us. “You are … slippery. That makes you useful.”
Never just a person. Always a tool. My hand closed in a fist at my side, my nails digging grit. “So, this is just strategy. You trade me if things go bad?”
His eyes glittered with cold intelligence, nothing else. “Trading you gains me little. Ignarath wants it all. I want information. That is the only truth.”
But there was something underneath; not calculation, but heat. I wasn’t sure what was worse.
I could have backed out, right then. I didn't. It was a huge risk, but this was too important. “There are missing people.Kira’s little sister, Larissa. If she’s in that pit, I’m going in. I don’t care what any dragons think.”
A ripple ran through him, almost invisible: his scales tensed, his claws flexed, his shoulders locked. “Then keep your head.” His voice was razor thin. “Inside Ignarath, you can trust no one. Not even me. Or you’ll die.”
“I wasn’t planning on trust,” I muttered. “I’m planning on survival.”
He looked away, already recalculating routes and weapons, his mind three battles ahead. Fine. I shifted my focus to my own checklist—the only ritual keeping me together. I counted rations, laid out my knife. My hands wouldn’t quit shaking; it was adrenaline, not emotion, I told myself. Liar.
The silence between us was savage, thick with night wind and threat. Except now, every time the fire spit, every time he shifted, my body noticed. We were too close. Heat crawled up my spine, soaking beneath my skin, not fear, something else, off-limits and feral.
If it was attraction, I wanted to punch it. If it was terror, even better.
“Dawn, then,” I said. I tossed him some jerky we'd managed to salvage. “Eat. I wouldn’t want you useless before we get to the suicide part of this journey.”
He caught it one-handed. He eyed me like I was another puzzle with teeth. He ate anyway. Something about his jaw, the slow grind, made me shiver. Ridiculous. Grit crunched in my teeth and in my brain.
We sat like that, chewing, every breath a test. Firelight carved his scales into hard lines and shadow. I pretended I was scanning for threats, but really I was keeping him out of my blood. Or trying to.
Eventually, my body gave the order I’d been waiting for. I hunched down. I kept the knife ready. I announced, “You sleepfirst. Try anything, I’ll cut your heart out and roast it on what’s left of this fire.”
A dry, ugly chuckle came from him, crawling low in his chest. “I would expect nothing less,veshari.”
