When night finally fell and we reached the vast expanse of the Gorei plains, I made the decision to let Rahu, the Dulga's son, go free. The moment I released him, he was gone like the wind—like a sparrow bursting from its cage, desperate for the open sky. His departure was met with an unexpectedly warm welcome. The southerner who had befriended him rushed forward, pulling the young man into a tight embrace before ruffling his dark hair with genuine affection. He draped his arm over Rahu's shoulders, holding him close in a gesture that spoke of camaraderie and something deeper, something unspoken but unmistakable.
Under the flickering torchlight that cast dancing shadows across the encampment, I studied the southerner more carefully. He had striking golden eyes that seemed to gleam with their own inner light, catching and reflecting the flames. He was tall—remarkably so—with a sturdy, well-built frame that suggested both strength and agility. Surprisingly, he wore no beard, which was unusual among his fellow soldiers who typically had thick facial hair. His hair was also considerably longer than his comrades', with black locks that cascaded down to his broad shoulders in waves that moved when he laughed. Everything about him screamed troublemaker, from the mischievous glint in those golden eyes to the confident swagger in his stance. The way he had deliberately unbuttoned the top of his tunic in the freezing cold, brazenly showing off his collarbones and the strong column of his throat, certainly didn't help dispel that impression. There was no denying it—he was an exceptionally good-looking man, the kind who knew it and used it to his advantage.
"His name is Gautham," Kathrine's voice cut through my observations, drawing my attention to where she stood beside me. "He's from Turga, from the southern shores of Selon. Surprisingly, he speaks a remarkable number of languages—I've heard him switch between at least five without missing a beat. He's an outgoing person, very charming when he wants to be, but also a bit unruly. Doesn't follow orders as readily as he should. And yes, he's quite attractive." The way she said that last part carried a hint of amusement, as if she'd caught me staring.
She paused for a moment, watching the two men interact with a knowing look in her eyes. "And he seems to be into men," she stated matter-of-factly, her tone casual but observant. I followed her gaze back to Gautham and Rahu, and the way the southerner looked at the young Dulga's son told me everything I needed to know. There was an intensity there, a tenderness mixed with desire that was impossible to miss once you knew what to look for.
"A feast for the eyes," Kathrine voiced aloud exactly what I had been thinking, and we both turned to look at each other before bursting into quiet giggles, the kind shared between women who understand each other perfectly.
Our moment of levity was interrupted when Arvid approached me from the side, his footsteps nearly silent on the frozen ground. Without a word, he draped a thick fur coat over my shoulders, the weight of it immediately providing warmth against the biting cold that had begun to seep through my clothes.
"It's freezing cold tonight," he said simply, his voice flat and carefully neutral. Before I could thank him or say anything at all, he walked away, his back rigid with tension. He was sulking again, I could tell from the set of his shoulders and the way he wouldn't meet my eyes. I let out a long sigh, watching him retreat into the darkness beyond the torchlight. Kathrine glanced at me before excusing herself to finish setting up our tent for the night. Left with no other option, I followed after my sulking husband, determined to sort out whatever was bothering him this time.
"You're mad again," I stated rather than asked when I finally caught up to him at the far corner of the field. He had positioned himself away from the main camp, crouched down and attempting to light a campfire in solitude. But the wood he'd gathered was too young, still green and damp, far too fresh to burn properly. Despite his repeated attempts with the matches, there wasn't so much as a spark or the faintest wisp of smoke to show for his efforts.
"I'm not," he protested, though his tone suggested otherwise. He still refused to look at me, his attention stubbornly fixed on the uncooperative firewood. "I just feel stupid for letting my emotions sway me just because you smiled at that boy. I know it didn't mean anything—logically, I understand that completely. But I can't help but worry anyway. It doesn't mean I don't trust you, because I truly do. I trust you with everything in me." He rumbled the words out, frustration evident in every syllable as he continued trying to light matches that stubbornly refused to burn, their tips too soaked from the humidity in the air.
"You were jealous," I said softly, wanting—no, needing—him to look at me. My inner voice mumbled insistently in the back of my mind: *Why doesn't he look at us? Make him look at us.*
"Look at me, Arvid," I voiced the demand aloud, but he remained focused on those damned matches, on anything but me.
"Yes, I was jealous," he finally admitted, his jaw clenching. "But aren't you the same? If I were to talk with another woman, smiling at her the way you smiled at him—"
"I'll burn her," my voice dropped into an almost animalistic tone, something primal and dangerous threading through the words. The possessiveness that surged through me was overwhelming, consuming. "Like this stupid firewood you're trying so desperately to burn without even looking at me," I added, my patience finally snapping.
I reached out and grabbed his chin firmly, forcing him to turn toward me. His confused eyes, those beautiful Ash eyes, finally met mine. Something ancient and powerful stirred within me, rising to the surface like a beast awakening from slumber.
"*Frone,*" I whispered, the word emerging as a deep, ancient command in old Rothiya, the language of dragons that predated kingdoms and civilizations.
The firewood exploded into flame instantly. A massive fire sparked to life, bigger and hotter than any normal campfire should be. The flames danced with an almost silver hue woven through the orange and red, creating an otherworldly spectacle. His eyes widened in shock and surprise, his mouth falling open slightly.
"Your eye—" he breathed out, staring at my face with a mixture of wonder and concern.
I immediately released his chin and cupped my right eye with my hand, feeling the transformation that had occurred. I knew without looking that it had turned into my dragon eye, the vertical slit pupil and scaled appearance that marked my true nature.
"I'm sorry, Arvid," I whispered, shame flooding through me at my loss of control. "I lost control. You said you were going to smile with another woman—you wouldn't actually do that, right?" I turned to him, searching his face desperately for reassurance, needing to hear him say it.
"I'm not going to cheat on you," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. He reached up and gripped my face softly, his touch gentle despite the intensity of his words. "Why would I ever cheat on you? I love you. I've been in love with you since I was nine years old. It's been years and years of loving only you. You were my first love, and you will be my last love. There will never be anyone else." His thumbs stroked my cheeks tenderly as he held my gaze. "I want you to know that. I need you to believe it."
I nodded, understanding washing over me and soothing some of the wild possessiveness that had taken hold. I moved closer to him, shoving my face against his chest and inhaling deeply. His scent—sandalwood mixed with jasmine—filled my lungs and calmed something frantic inside me.
"But how did you do that?" he asked after a moment, his voice curious rather than fearful. "The fire, I mean. I've never seen you do anything like that before."
I raised my head to look at him, trying to find the words to explain something I didn't fully understand myself. "I don't know," I admitted honestly. "I suddenly thought that I could light a fire, and then suddenly I could. It was because you wanted to light a fire so desperately, and I wanted to give you what you needed." I cooed softly, rubbing my face against his chest like a cat seeking comfort. My mind felt like it was slipping away from me, rational thought becoming harder to grasp. I could feel it happening, and I knew I should try to regain control, but it felt so distant, so difficult.
"I will never smile at any other man again," I told him with absolute conviction, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Only you. Ever."
"You don't have to do that," he said gently, his hand coming up to stroke my hair. "There will be times when you're required to smile at others—you're the queen, after all. Diplomatic situations, formal events, receiving dignitaries. The same goes for me. I'll smile when duty requires it, but that's all. Nothing else, nothing more. It won't mean anything beyond political necessity."
I was deeply displeased by the idea, but I recognized that I had to compromise. This was part of being rulers, part of the responsibilities we'd taken on.
"Fine," I said, though I couldn't help pouting about it like a petulant child.
"You're being adorable," he said with a soft laugh, leaning down to kiss my forehead tenderly before enveloping me completely in his strong arms, holding me against him.
"And gods, you are so warm too," he added, his voice muffled against my hair. "Like you're radiating heat."
"My queen." We were rudely interrupted by Kathrine's voice cutting through our moment. She stood a few feet away, looking straight at me with an expression that was difficult to read. At first glance, she flinched slightly, something in my appearance clearly startling her, but she quickly composed herself with practiced ease.
"The tent is ready. You need to rest, my queen," she added firmly, her tone brooking no argument.
"Yes, you were burning up earlier. Maybe you've caught a fever? You need to rest immediately, and I'll make medicine for you," Arvid said, his voice now draped with genuine concern as he felt my forehead with the back of his hand.
*That's not it,* I wanted to tell him. *I just want you. I just need you.* But before I could voice the shameless thoughts, I was practically fished out of his arms by a very strong and remarkably determined Kathrine. She had me halfway back to the tent before I could even think to protest, moving with a purposefulness that suggested she knew exactly what was happening to me and was acting to prevent something.
The next morning arrived with a bitter, bone-deep cold that seemed to seep into everything. The winter's delay was finally over. It had started to snow sometime during the night, and a thin layer of pristine white already covered the ground, transforming the Gorei plains into a winter wonderland. The soldiers were packing up camp in the freezing conditions, their breath coming out in visible clouds. The southerners in particular didn't like the cold—it was not something they were accustomed to in their warm homeland. They were visibly struggling, their fingers clumsy with the cold as they tried to secure tent poles and pack supplies.
"Thank the gods it is only now that winter has truly arrived," Kathrine said as she entered the tent, brushing snow from her cloak. "If it had come earlier in our journey, people would have been frozen to death on the road. We're fortunate." Then her eyes fell on me, and her expression shifted to one of careful concern. "Are you okay, Rhia?" she asked, using my given name rather than my title, her voice cautious and gentle.
"I went mad last night, didn't I?" I asked her, my voice softer than usual, barely above a whisper. I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear her say it.
Kathrine moved closer and knelt in front of me, positioning herself so she could look directly into my eyes without me having to crane my neck. "My queen, please," she said, her voice taking on a pleading quality I'd rarely heard from her. "Please let him know what's happening with you. He deserves to understand."
"What is happening with you is completely out of your control," she continued, her voice beginning to tremble slightly. "When the merge happens—when you finally complete the transformation—"
"I won't merge with that old snake," I interrupted her firmly, my jaw setting stubbornly. "I just won't allow it. I'll find another way."
"But how can you possibly prevent it when your emotions are so easily swayed by him?" she challenged gently. "Even his smallest, tiniest actions affect you greatly. Every little thing he does sends you spiraling. You will give in to your instincts sooner or later—it's inevitable. When that happens, when you truly lose control, you will scare him. You might even hurt him without meaning to." Her voice was still trembling as she spoke these difficult truths. "Yesterday, a dragon flame burned. A true dragon flame, not something created by borrowed power or blood magic. It's still burning right now, and they still can't extinguish it no matter what they try. They will figure it out eventually, my queen. They will know what you are."
That statement made me get to my feet immediately, alarm coursing through me. I walked out of the tent with purpose, making my way toward the corner of the field where I had been with Arvid the night before. Sure enough, that area was now crowded with soldiers and curious onlookers. Arvid was there too, standing among them and trying to put out the fire with various methods. Water, dirt, smothering—nothing worked. He looked utterly confused and frustrated, unable to comprehend why a simple campfire refused to die.
I stopped a fair distance away, far enough that they wouldn't immediately notice me but close enough that I could still see the fire clearly. It burned as if it were feeding on infinite fuel, the flames reaching high despite the fact that there was no more firewood left to actually burn. The wood had long since been consumed, yet the fire persisted, hovering impossibly in midair. The soldiers were completely baffled, standing around watching the phenomenon with a mixture of fear and fascination.
There was only one way to extinguish a dragon fire, and it was a rather flashy, unmistakable method. I steeled myself and took confident steps toward the gathered group, my decision made.
"I'll put it out," I announced loudly, my voice carrying across the cold morning air. They all turned to look at me in unison. Some eyes were judging, clearly skeptical that I could succeed where they had failed. Some were openly challenging, as if daring me to try. A few looked hopeful.
"Keep away from the fire," I instructed them firmly. "Move back, all of you." Arvid immediately signaled for the soldiers to comply, and they retreated to form a wide circle around the flames, giving me space to work.
I took a deep breath. "*Frone Draga—Gelki,*" I whispered in ancient Rothiya, the words of power flowing from my lips like a song.
The fire responded instantly to my command. It began to move, shifting and reforming, the flames manifesting into the distinct shape of a dragon. The creature climbed into the sky, its form made entirely of silver-touched flames, wings spreading wide as it took flight above our heads. The sight was so completely unexpected, so impossible, that several soldiers were thrown backward onto the ground in shock, yet their eyes remained glued to the spectacle above them, unable to look away. The fire dragon let out a roar that echoed across the plains, sounding almost real, almost alive. Then, just as I snapped my fingers with decisive finality, the dragon exploded like a massive firework, showering the sky with sparks that dissipated harmlessly into nothing.
The soldiers remained on the ground where they'd fallen, completely dumbfounded by what they had just witnessed. Their mouths hung open in shock, their eyes wide with disbelief and something that might have been fear. Without waiting for their reactions or questions, I turned on my heel and walked back toward the tents, maintaining my composure even as my heart raced.
This was bad. This was very, very bad. I wasn't supposed to be able to do that—according to everything I'd learned, it should have been completely impossible. The ancient texts and everything mother had taught me clearly stated that dragon blood alone doesn't grant you dragon magic. You could control dragon blood outside of the body when certain specific conditions were met, yes, but this? This was something entirely different. This was pure dragon magic, unfiltered and ancient. The kind of magic that Rulha,our ancestral God, was said to have possessed. Magic without consequences, without the usual conditions and limitations that bound other forms of power. It was the most dangerous type of magic known to exist,
And somehow, impossibly, I had awakened it within myself.