Page 5 of Daring the Drakarn Warrior Lord
"Sounds exhausting."
"I'll be busy managing egos, preventing disasters, and trying to identify which trainees actually have potential versus which ones simply have bravado."
I leaned against his shoulder, offering silent support. This was part of his role, not just leading in battle, but shepherding the next generation. Making sure Scalvaris had warriors worthy of the name.
"You'll manage," I said. "You always do."
"With significantly more gray scales each year."
"You don't have any gray scales."
"Give it time. This Skalanth will likely produce several."
I laughed, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Poor suffering Warrior Lord. However will you cope?"
He pulled me into his lap, arms banding around my waist. "Careful,luvae. I can think of several ways you could help me cope."
He kissed me, and I moaned into it.
A mate's work was never done.
2
DARROKAR
The ring caughtthe light as I flexed my fingers.
Terra's gift gleamed against my dark scales, the metal bright where it wrapped around my knuckle. I'd worn it since the moment she'd given it to me, and each time I caught sight of it, something warm unfurled in my chest.
She'd marked me as surely as I'd claimed her, and I wore her declaration with more pride than any battle scar.
The corridors leading to the Forge Temple stretched before me, carved from the mountain's heart. Heat crystals embedded in the walls pulsed with dull red light. The air grew thicker here, heavy with incense and the weight of centuries. Every surface bore the marks of devotion: sigils etched into stone, offerings left in alcoves, the bones of the mountain itself shaped into reverence.
I'd never loved this place.
The Temple served its purpose. The priests maintained traditions, blessed warriors before battle, oversaw the sacred rites that bound our society together. But there was something oppressive about these halls, something that made my wings want to spread even though the space wouldn't allow it.
Maybe it was the way sound died here, swallowed by stone and ceremony. Maybe it was knowing that Karyseth walked these passages, her fanaticism seeping into the very rock.
Still, I came. The Skalanth required the Temple's participation, and I wouldn't give Karyseth the satisfaction of thinking I feared her domain.
The preparations should be well underway by now. The blood-flame needed to be readied, the ceremonial chambers prepared, the blessing rites scheduled. Jalliun had assured me everything would be handled, but I preferred to see for myself.
I rounded a corner and stopped.
Voices carried from ahead, raised in a way that violated every protocol of temple grounds. Arguing. Here, where even footsteps were supposed to be measured and soft.
I recognized both speakers immediately.
"You twist the teachings to suit your own agenda." Karyseth's voice could have frozen lava. "The ancestors never intended for our sacred spaces to be contaminated by outsider influence."
"The ancestors valued strength and adaptation." Jalliun's response came quieter but no less firm. "They built Scalvaris to endure, not to stagnate. Refusing to evolve is not preservation, it's suicide."
"Careful, priest. Your words border on heresy."
"Truth often does, in the ears of those who fear it."
The passage opened into a small antechamber, one of dozens that branched off the main temple corridors. Karyseth stood with her back to a carved altar, her scales catching the light. Jalliun faced her, shoulders squared, his deep green coloring almost black in the shadows.
