Claimed By Fire And Crown

Chapter 15

The second floor was quieter than the rest of the house.

Not empty quiet. Lived-in quiet. The kind that settled naturally into old wood and low lighting and walls that had held years of silence without feeling abandoned. My footsteps slowed as I reached the top of the stairs, exhaustion dragging heavier at me now that I’d finally stopped moving long enough to feel it properly.

Second door on the left.

I found it easily.

The room inside was simple, like the rest of the house. A large bed sat against the far wall beneath a window framed by dark curtains, and a low lamp near the dresser cast a soft amber glow across the space. There were no obvious signs someone else used the room regularly, but it didn’t feel untouched either. The faint scent of cedar and smoke lingered here too, quieter than downstairs but unmistakably his.

That realization settled strangely in my chest.

I stepped inside slowly, closing the door behind me before leaning against it for a second longer than necessary. The room was warm, still carrying heat from the fire below, and for the first time all night there was nothing actively chasing me.

No footsteps.

No threats.

No one waiting outside the door to drag me somewhere against my will.

The thought should have relaxed me more than it did.

Instead, I found myself staring at the lock.

You can lock it if it makes you feel better.

My hand lifted automatically before stopping halfway.

I didn’t lock it.

The realization irritated me immediately.

“Fantastic,” I muttered under my breath as I pushed away from the door and crossed toward the bed.

A folded shirt rested neatly near the foot of it, dark fabric standing out against the lighter blanket beneath. I slowed when I noticed it, my fingers brushing the material carefully before I lifted it slightly.

Too large for me.

Obviously.

Heat crept faintly into my face as it clicked into place that he’d left it there intentionally.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whispered.

Part of me wanted to be annoyed.

Another part noticed the fact he’d somehow thought ahead to something as simple as me not having anything else to sleep in after running for my life.

That part was harder to deal with.

I sighed quietly and glanced toward the attached bathroom before giving in and carrying the shirt with me. The light inside flickered on softly when I entered, revealing dark stone counters and an old clawfoot tub tucked against the far wall. Steam still lingered faintly in the air, like someone had showered not long ago.

Rhaegar.

My thoughts betrayed me immediately, and I groaned softly under my breath before setting the shirt on the counter.

This was getting ridiculous.

I splashed cold water against my face instead, gripping the edges of the sink as I stared at my reflection. I looked exhausted. My hair was a mess from running through the woods, faint bruises still shadowed my wrist, and there was something unsettled in my expression that hadn’t been there yesterday.

Yesterday.

It felt like weeks ago already.

Slowly, I touched the marks on my wrist again before looking away from the mirror entirely. I didn’t want to think about my father right now. Or my stepmother. Or the fact that every ugly thing they’d ever said to me suddenly felt twisted into something worse.

Weak.

Broken.

Worthless.

Not because it was true.

Because they’d needed me to believe it was.

Anger curled low beneath my ribs again, sharp enough that warmth flickered briefly under my skin in response. I jerked slightly at the sensation before forcing a slow breath through my lungs.

Right.

Fire problem.

“Still insane,” I muttered.

The shower helped more than I expected.

Hot water loosened some of the tension locked into my muscles, washing away dirt, sweat, and the lingering smell of fear that had followed me since leaving the pack. By the time I stepped back out wrapped in one of the towels hanging nearby, exhaustion had settled fully into my bones.

The shirt hung almost to mid-thigh once I pulled it on, the sleeves swallowing my hands until I shoved them back impatiently. It smelled faintly like cedar smoke too, clean and warm in a way that made my chest tighten unexpectedly.

I ignored that.

Very aggressively.

The room was darker when I stepped back out, the lamp dimmed low enough that shadows stretched softly across the floor. I crossed toward the bed slowly before stopping near the window instead, pulling the curtain aside just enough to glance outside.

Dark woods.

Quiet night.

Safe.

At least for now.

My forehead rested briefly against the cool glass as I exhaled slowly. I should have been terrified sleeping in the house of a man I barely knew. Honestly, a smarter person probably would have been.

But every instinct I had kept circling back to the same impossible truth.

Rhaegar wasn’t the thing I was afraid of.

The floor creaked softly behind me.

I turned too quickly, my pulse jumping before I realized the sound had come from the hallway outside, not inside the room. Silence followed again a second later, but my attention stayed fixed on the door.

Then—

A quiet knock.

I blinked.

Not threatening. Not demanding.

Just there.

“What?” I called cautiously.

A brief pause.

Then, “You didn’t lock the door.”

My entire body went still.

Heat rushed instantly into my face as I stared at the door in horror. Of course he noticed. Of course he somehow immediately noticed that.

“That’s your concern right now?” I asked, mortified.

“It’s an observation.”

“That’s worse.”

A low sound that suspiciously resembled amusement came from the other side of the door before silence settled again.

I narrowed my eyes at the wood like he could somehow see the expression through it.

“Go away,” I muttered.

Another pause.

Then, quieter this time:

“Get some sleep.”

Something about the shift in his voice softened the irritation before it could fully settle. I waited until his footsteps faded down the hallway before finally moving away from the window and toward the bed.

The mattress dipped softly beneath my weight as I sat down, exhaustion hitting harder the second I stopped resisting it. The blankets were warmer than expected, heavy enough to pull tension from my muscles as I lay back slowly against the pillows.

For a few minutes, I just stared at the ceiling.

Too many thoughts still moved through my head, uneven and restless, but sleep dragged at them now, pulling them slower with every passing second.

Dragon.

Suppressed.

Hidden.

Fire recognizes its own.

None of it felt real.

And yet, somewhere downstairs, Rhaegar existed.

Which somehow made the impossible parts harder to deny.

My eyes drifted shut before I realized it was happening.

The last thing I remembered was the faint warmth still curled low beneath my ribs—

And the strange, terrifying realization that for the first time in my life…

I hadn’t fallen asleep feeling alone.