Claimed By Fire And Crown

Chapter 23

For a moment, I was convinced Rhaegar had to be wrong.

I stood at the edge of the fire pit staring at the twisting golden flames while his words settled heavily between us.

It's yours.

The statement should have sounded ridiculous. A few days ago I would have laughed if someone had suggested a fire could belong to anyone. Now I wasn't laughing. The warmth beneath my ribs was pulsing in time with the flames, and every instinct I had was reacting to the fire as though it recognized me.

That frightened me more than I wanted to admit.

I folded my arms tightly across my chest and looked away from the pit, trying to gather my thoughts before they scattered completely.

"You're telling me this fire belongs to me?"

Rhaegar remained where he was, giving me space while he watched carefully.

"I'm telling you it recognizes you."

"That's not better."

A faint flicker of amusement touched his expression before disappearing again.

I let out a frustrated breath and looked back toward the flames. They moved differently than normal fire. The longer I watched them, the more obvious it became. They weren't simply burning. They seemed aware, almost curious, shifting and curling toward me whenever my attention settled on them.

The realization sent a chill down my spine despite the heat surrounding us.

My thoughts drifted back to the pack before I could stop them.

I remembered standing on training fields while wolves younger than me completed their first shifts. I remembered the whispered comments when they thought I couldn't hear them and the sympathetic looks when they realized I could. Most of all, I remembered my father's disappointment. He never said much, but sometimes silence hurt more than words.

The anger arrived suddenly.

Not explosive.

Just sharp.

Years of humiliation and confusion surfaced all at once, and before I could push the feelings away, the fire reacted.

Flames rolled higher around the pit.

Heat rushed across the clearing, forcing me to take a step backward.

My heart jumped.

The instant the anger eased, the flames settled again.

I stared.

Rhaegar didn't seem surprised.

"Your emotions are feeding it," he said quietly.

I looked at him. "You say that like it's normal."

"It's normal for dragon fire."

The answer should have helped.

Instead, it raised ten more questions.

I turned back toward the pit, trying to ignore how fast my pulse had started racing. The warmth inside me hadn't disappeared. If anything, it felt stronger now, responding every time I focused on the fire.

Slowly, I crouched near the edge of the stone circle.

The flames shifted immediately.

Not violently.

Almost eagerly.

A small tongue of fire separated from the larger blaze and drifted toward me, hovering just above the blackened stones.

I froze.

The flame was no larger than my hand, yet I couldn't look away from it.

Every sensible part of me screamed not to touch it.

Unfortunately, another part of me wanted to.

The closer it came, the stronger the pull became.

I could feel Rhaegar watching from behind me, but he didn't interfere. He didn't tell me what to do. He simply stood there, calm and steady, waiting.

The flame hovered inches from my hand.

My fingers trembled slightly as I lifted them.

The warmth beneath my ribs flared in response.

The fire answered.

I held my breath and touched it.

Nothing happened.

At least, nothing painful.

There was no burn. No blistering heat. Instead, warmth spread gently across my skin, familiar and comforting in a way I couldn't explain. It felt less like touching fire and more like touching something that had been missing for a very long time.

A surprised laugh escaped me.

The flame brightened instantly.

The reaction startled me enough that I looked toward Rhaegar.

He had gone completely still.

His gaze was fixed on my hand, and for the first time since I'd met him, I saw something in his expression that wasn't confidence or certainty.

It looked like relief.

The realization caught me off guard.

He had expected something to happen.

More than that, he'd been worried.

Not about himself.

About me.

Before I could make sense of the thought, the warmth in my palm pulsed sharply.

The fire answered.

A flash of gold burst across my vision so suddenly that I stumbled backward. The small flame vanished, and the entire clearing seemed to hold its breath.

My pulse thundered in my ears.

"What was that?" I asked.

Rhaegar's attention shifted immediately toward the surrounding forest.

The change in him was instant.

The relief disappeared. Every muscle in his body tightened, his posture becoming alert in a way that reminded me of the alley and the moment he'd stepped between me and the Butcher.

I followed his gaze toward the trees.

The fire pit had gone unnaturally still.

Even the flames seemed to be listening.

Then a roar echoed through the forest.

The sound rolled across the woods like distant thunder, deep enough to vibrate through the ground beneath my feet. It wasn't a wolf. It wasn't anything I had ever heard before.

It sounded ancient.

Powerful.

And far too close.

The color drained from my face.

Without hesitation, Rhaegar stepped in front of me.

His gaze remained fixed on the tree line while the clearing fell silent around us.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm.

Too calm.

"They found you."