Chapter 20
1086 Words
Chapter 20
No one spoke for several seconds after that.
The fire had settled back into normal flames again, low and steady against the stone hearth like it hadn’t just tried to climb out of the fireplace and wrap itself around me. My pulse still hammered unevenly beneath my ribs, and I stayed exactly where I was because moving felt like a terrible idea right now.
Rhaegar’s hand remained around my wrist.
Not restraining.
Grounding.
The realization lingered unpleasantly in my chest.
Vaelor was the first to move, dragging one hand slowly down his face before exhaling toward the ceiling. “Right,” he muttered. “That’s significantly worse than I expected.”
I frowned immediately. “You know, nobody keeps elaborating when they say things like that.”
Vaelor pointed vaguely toward the fireplace. “You almost answered the fire.”
“I don’t even know what that means!”
“That’s the problem.”
I made a frustrated sound under my breath and tried pulling my wrist back automatically, only then realizing Rhaegar still held it. His grip loosened immediately the second I moved, though his hand lingered for half a second longer than necessary before falling away completely.
Warmth flickered sharply beneath my skin in response.
I pretended not to notice.
Rhaegar looked like he noticed anyway.
Of course he did.
I stepped back quickly before my body could embarrass me further, rubbing both hands over my face as I paced toward the opposite side of the room. “Okay,” I said, trying very hard to sound calmer than I felt. “Somebody is going to explain things to me right now.”
Vaelor glanced toward Rhaegar. “You want to do this part?”
“No.”
“That’s unfortunate because you’re better at it.”
“I’m aware.”
I stared at both of them. “I cannot stress enough how much I dislike the way you two communicate.”
That finally earned a real laugh from Vaelor, brief but genuine enough that it softened some of the colder edges in his expression. “Fair.”
Rhaegar leaned back slightly against the edge of the table, arms crossing loosely as his attention stayed fixed on me. “You’re reacting early.”
“Again,” I said, pointing at him, “that means nothing to me.”
“It means,” Vaelor cut in more carefully this time, “your fire should still be dormant.”
The warmth beneath my ribs pulsed at the word dormant, softer now but impossible to ignore.
I crossed my arms tightly. “And instead?”
Vaelor’s pale eyes shifted briefly toward the fireplace before returning to me. “Instead, it’s recognizing you.”
The room fell quiet again.
Not because I didn’t hear him.
Because I did.
Too clearly.
I looked toward the fire automatically, watching the flames twist softly around the logs. Nothing dramatic happened this time, but awareness still tugged somewhere deep inside me, subtle and unsettling.
“That’s not normal,” I said quietly.
“No,” Rhaegar agreed. “It isn’t.”
I let out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh before turning back toward them. “You know what’s really bothering me?”
Vaelor lifted one brow slightly. “I imagine there’s a list.”
“The fact that both of you keep talking like this confirms something terrible instead of impossible.”
Neither answered.
That was answer enough.
Something cold slid slowly through my stomach as the full weight of it settled deeper. Dragons weren’t stories to them. Magic wasn’t strange. Fire reacting to me wasn’t shocking enough.
Because they already lived in this world.
I was the only one trying to catch up.
“How many people know?” I asked quietly.
Rhaegar’s expression darkened slightly.
“Too many.”
The answer hit harder than I expected.
My fingers tightened against my arms as I looked away briefly, trying to steady the sudden rush of thoughts crashing through me again. “The Butcher said he was expecting me.”
Vaelor’s face flattened instantly at that. “He found you himself?”
“Not exactly,” Rhaegar replied before I could. “Someone sold her.”
The room changed.
Subtle.
Immediate.
Vaelor went completely still in a way that reminded me uncomfortably of Rhaegar right before violence. “Sold,” he repeated carefully.
I swallowed once before nodding. “My father and stepmother.”
The silence afterward felt heavier than anything else that morning.
Vaelor looked toward me again slowly, something sharper moving behind his eyes now. “They knew what you were?”
“I don’t think my father did,” I admitted quietly. “But the witch did.”
Rhaegar nodded once. “She suppressed the fire.”
“And handed her to wolves,” Vaelor muttered darkly. “Brilliant.”
“I was already with wolves.”
“You were never supposed to be.”
The words landed hard enough to make my chest tighten again.
I stared at him. “What does that mean?”
Vaelor glanced toward Rhaegar again like he was reconsidering how much to say.
Rhaegar noticed immediately. “Enough.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
I groaned softly under my breath and dropped into the nearest chair again before my legs decided to stop cooperating entirely. Exhaustion still dragged at me beneath the adrenaline crash, making every emotion feel sharper and heavier all at once.
Rhaegar pushed away from the table a second later and crossed toward the kitchen again. “You need food.”
I blinked at him. “How are you making breakfast the solution to this?”
“It isn’t,” he replied calmly. “But passing out would make the conversation worse.”
“That’s annoyingly reasonable.”
“I have many qualities.”
Vaelor snorted quietly into his coffee.
I stared between both of them in disbelief. “You two are unbearable together.”
“Probably,” Vaelor agreed.
Rhaegar ignored him completely while pulling another plate from the counter. The strange normalcy of the movement after everything that had just happened made my brain feel slightly disconnected from reality.
Magic fire meltdown.
Existential crisis.
Breakfast.
Apparently all equally important.
My attention drifted toward the fireplace again despite myself.
The flames flickered softly.
Watching.
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.
“No,” I told it quietly.
Vaelor heard me.
To my horror, he started laughing.
- Writer
