Page 8 of Burned Alive to Be His
The words hit the crowd like a war drum. A moment of stunned silence, and then chaos erupts. Shouts of disbelief, of anger, of a desperate, sudden hope. The Dragon Bride Trials. A legend. A myth whispered to hatchlings. A fool’s hope I myself had scorned not hours ago.
And now, it is real. And the catalyst for it all is the trembling, defiant creature in my hand.
Grakar roars in fury. “You cannot be serious! You would stake the survival of our race on this… thisthing? I will not allow it! I challenge this folly!”
“There is no challenge to be made,” Vorlag says, his voice cold as stone. “It is the will of the goddess. The trials will proceed. She must be tested. She must prove her worth.”
My mind races, the political currents of the clan swirling around me. Vorlag has made his move, using this creature to solidify his power, to give the clan a focus for their fear and restlessness. Grakar challenges him, offering a path of conquest instead of faith. And I… I stand in the center, holding the prize.
If she is to be tested, then her keeper will hold immense influence. Her success—or failure—will reflect upon the one who claims her. If Grakar or his faction were to claim her, they would ensure she fails, proving Vorlag a fool and seizing power. If Vorlag’s supporters claim her, they will coddle her, a weakness Grakar will exploit.
A primal, possessive instinct, sharp and undeniable, rises in me. She ismine. I found her. She is my treasure. I will not allow her to be a pawn in their games. I will not allow her fate to be decided by a bitter rival or a fading elder. I will control this. I will controlher.
I take a step forward, pulling the human with me, and I speak, my voice ringing with an authority that challenges even the Eldest.
“Then I claim her.”
The word hangs in the sulfurous air, a declaration of war and intent. Grakar’s head snaps toward me, his face a tortured mask of disbelief and rage. Vorlag’s eyes gleam with a calculating light. Phina lets out a small, wounded hiss.
“I claim the right, as her discoverer,” I continue, my voice growling low. “I will be her keeper. I will oversee her trials. Her strength will be forged by my fire. Her survival will be my will. She belongs to me.”
I punctuate the last words by yanking her closer, my arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against my body. She is so small, so fragile against me. I can feel every line of her ribs, the frantic flutter of her pulse against my scaled skin. She gasps, her hands coming up to push against my chest, a futile gesture of defiance. Her scent fills my senses, intoxicating and infuriating.
Vorlag studies me for a long moment, then nods slowly. “So be it. Xvitar will be her keeper. The trials will begin at dawn. Her first test… is to survive the night.”
He turns and retreats into the Great Cavern, the matter settled. The clan begins to disperse, casting glances at me, at the human pressed against me, their whispers following us. Grakar gives me a look of pure murder before stalking away, his faction trailing behind him like jackals.
I am left alone with my prize.
I gaze down at her. Her face is pale, her eyes wide with a terror she is trying desperately to conceal. She is still pushing against my chest, her small hands flat against the hard muscle and scale.
“Stop,” I command.
She freezes, her hands still pressed against me.
“You are mine now, human,” I say, voice a low rumble meant only for her. “Your life is a gift from me. I can take it back at any moment. Do you understand?”
She does not speak. She simply stares up at me, dark eyes a bottomless well of defiance.
I growl in frustration. Her silence is a weapon, and it is surprisingly effective. I release her, shoving her away from me. “Come.”
I turn and stride toward the outskirts of the settlement, not looking back to see if she follows. I know she will. She has no other choice. I lead her away from the main caverns, past the training circle, to a small, isolated cave carved into the base of a volcanic spire. It is little more than a hollow in the rock, exposed to the elements on one side, the ground nothing but sharp, black grit. It is a place where we might keep a disobedient beast.
“This is your shelter,” I say, gesturing to the dark opening.
She looks at the cave, then back at me, her expression unreadable.
“You will be brought food and water once a day,” I continue, my voice cold and hard. “If you are still alive. The nights here are cold. The beasts of the island are hungry. Your survival is your own concern. This is your first trial. Do not fail me.”
I turn to leave, to go back to the heat and comfort of my own cavern.
“Why?”
Her voice is a raw, broken whisper, but it stops me in my tracks. It is the second time she has spoken. I turn back to face her. She stands at the mouth of the cave, a small, pathetic figure against the vast, brutal landscape of my home.
“Why what?” I demand.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks, her voice gaining a sliver of strength.
