Chapter 6

Lina's POV

I knelt at Augustus's feet, my hands trembling as I reached for the clasps of his black-and-gold dragon robe, the heavy fabric whispering against my fingers in the dim flicker of the chamber's candles. I kept my gaze fixed downward, careful not to meet his golden slit-pupils as I worked the first buckle free. He stood motionless above me, a towering presence that filled the Dragonfire Chamber with the faint scent of smoke and molten metal.

My fingers fumbled at the neck clasp, the metal cool and intricate under my touch, but as I tugged it loose, my knuckle brushed his lower lip by accident—a fleeting graze, barely there. Augustus went rigid, his entire body tensing, and before I could react, his hand shot to the back of my neck, yanking me up as his mouth crashed down on mine in a bruising kiss that tasted of ash and raw hunger. Panic surged through me; I twisted my head away on instinct, breaking the contact.

His golden eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, the pupils contracting into thin lines that gleamed with barely restrained fury, a deep rumble vibrating from his throat. "You're dodging me?" he growled, his voice low and edged with menace, his grip tightening just enough to make my pulse throb under his fingers. I shook my head frantically, "No, Your Majesty," though fear twisted my features, my eyes wide and betraying every ounce of terror I felt, while the air around him began to thicken with heat, his skin radiating an unnatural warmth that made the chamber's frost arrays flicker uneasily.

"You lie," he snarled, seizing the collar of my simple thrall's tunic and hauling me toward the bed in one brutal motion, the force dragging my feet across the stone floor as the room spun. He shoved me down onto the edge of the mattress, the ice-silk cool against my back, and pinned my wrists above my head with one massive hand, his body looming over mine, caging me completely. His eyes shifted fully vertical now, black-gold scales rippling across his neck and jaw, his nails elongating into sharp black claws that pricked my skin, and a wave of draconic pressure slammed into me, crushing the air from my lungs and making my limbs tremble uncontrollably.

His free hand ripped at my tunic, the fabric tearing with a sharp sound, exposing my skin to the chamber's draft, and his mouth descended on my neck and collarbone with kisses that burned like embers, each one leaving a trail of scalding heat that made me gasp in pain and dread. Realization hit me like ice water—he meant to claim me here, and bind me forever to this fortress, shredding my freedom decree with his mark.

"Your Majesty, mercy! Please, let me go!" I screamed, thrashing wildly beneath him, my legs kicking, my body arching in desperate resistance as his growl deepened into a feral snarl, his claws raking lightly over my bare waist, igniting sparks of unwanted sensation amid the terror.

He roared, a beastly sound that shook the bedposts, his hand tearing my tunic further as he pressed down harder, his heat enveloping me like a furnace, but in blind panic I lunged forward and sank my teeth into his shoulder, tasting salt and iron as he recoiled with a hiss of pain. I wrenched free, scrambling off the bed and bolting for the door, my torn clothes flapping, heart pounding so fiercely, the chamber's rising temperature singeing the air behind me.

A deafening dragon roar erupted as he lunged after me, his claws snagging the back of my ruined tunic just short of the door, and yanking me backward; I twisted to see flames flickering from his nostrils, the room's heat spiking to unbearable levels, his back arching as shadowy black-gold wings began to manifest, scales spreading rapidly across his skin.

Desperation clawed at me—I screamed again, clawing at his arm, every fiber fighting for escape—when Selas's voice boomed from outside. "Your Majesty, the Shadow Conclave's leader Moros Nightfeather seeks audience—urgent border intelligence from the Eastern Reach!"

The heavy doors swung open, and there stood Moros in his black feather-embroidered robes, his amber crow-eyes sweeping over my disheveled state, taking in the torn clothes and my heaving breaths without a flicker.

Augustus halted, his roar cutting off mid-breath, scales receding from his neck as he forced his dragon form back, wings dissolving into shadow, his golden eyes dilating slowly to normal while he drew deep, ragged breaths to quell the raging fire element surging through him. He released me with a shove, straightening his robe to reclaim his imperial poise, the air cooling gradually as he growled, "What is it?"

Moros stepped forward smoothly, positioning his body to shield me from view, his voice calm and measured. "Sire, there is unrest in the eastern border. We need your urgent decision."

Augustus's jaw clenched, his gaze lingering on me for a burning moment before he barked at the guards. "Fetch a barrel of ice water." Turning to me, his voice was arctic. "Take it outside the hall and hold it aloft—don't stop until I say."

The guards hauled in a massive iron barrel brimming with frigid water chunks, the weight alone making my arms ache as I hoisted it with shaking limbs and staggered out to the stone steps, where night had fallen and snow began to swirl in biting gusts. The cold seeped through my torn clothes instantly, the barrel's chill numbing my frost-scarred hands within minutes, water sloshing onto my skin with every tremor, turning my shivers violent as wind howled through the battlements.

Selas approached, his amber eyes filled with quiet concern as he scanned my bruises and disarray. "Lina, what did you do to anger him this time?" I tilted my head to read his lips with my good ear, shaking my head mutely, arms quivering under the load.

He sighed, starting to unfasten his cloak, but hesitated at the sight of the barrel, withdrawing his hand with regret. "Hold on just a bit longer—I'll find a way to help."

Hours dragged in the snow, my muscles screaming, vision blurring from exhaustion, until Moros emerged from the chamber, Selas rushing forward. "Moros, sir, could you plead with His Majesty? Lina, she—" Moros raised a hand, silencing him, his crow-eyes locking onto mine. "His Majesty permits her to retire."

Selas exhaled in relief, reaching for the barrel, but Moros moved first, his slender fingers gripping the rim effortlessly and setting it down with a thud; pain exploded through my numb arms as relief flooded in, my body swaying until his steadying hand caught my elbow. His amber gaze pierced mine intently, and then a voice echoed clear in my mind—his telepathic link weaving silently: "He's on his way back now. In two days, he'll meet you beyond the gates himself."

My head snapped up, shock and fragile hope warring on my frozen face as the words sank in. Moros draped Selas's cloak over my shoulders, then vanished into the whirling snow. Clutching the fabric tightly, a fierce glow kindled in my chest—he hadn't forgotten our vow; he was coming for me.