Alpha Queen is Marked by Fire

The One Who Saved Me

"Had a nightmare?"

His voice, low and steady, broke through the lingering haze of my dream. My chest heaved, and I blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the vivid images of chasing feet and cruel laughter. The memory of those rogues, their twisted smirks, clung to me like a shroud.

I turned toward the sound and found Ryvarn sitting cross-legged on the floor, his golden eyes fixed on me. The faint glow of the torches made them shimmer, turning his calm expression into something almost otherworldly.

I nodded slowly, brushing a trembling hand through my hair. "It’s nothing," I said, my voice hoarse.

His gaze didn’t waver. "You’re a terrible liar, Nyssa."

The way my name rolled off his tongue sent a strange warmth curling through me. I looked away, busying myself with smoothing out the blankets. "Just a bad dream."

"You were crying out." His voice softened, almost as though he cared. "What was it about?"

"It doesn’t matter," I said, sharper than I intended. When I glanced back at him, I expected anger or irritation, but there was none.

Instead, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his golden gaze steady. "It matters if it keeps you trapped in fear."

The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard. My breath hitched as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. His fingers were warm, surprisingly gentle for someone so powerful.

"I don’t need pity," I whispered, though my voice lacked conviction.

He tilted his head, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "Good. Because I wasn’t offering it."

I swallowed hard, the space between us suddenly too small. His presence filled the room, commanding and intimate, and I couldn’t look away.

But then he leaned back, breaking the tension. "When you’re ready to talk, I’ll listen," he said simply, his tone firm but unassuming.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

...

The day started as it always did—tense, cold, and filled with the constant weight of danger.

Ryvarn sat on the edge of the stone platform that served as his resting place, his gaze tracking my every movement. It wasn’t his usual wary or distrustful stare. No, today, it felt different. Like he was studying me, peeling back the layers I tried so hard to keep intact.

"Do you always pace like that?" he asked casually, his voice breaking the silence.

"I’m not pacing," I shot back, halting mid-step.

He smirked, leaning back on his palms. "You’ve walked the same ten steps five times. If that’s not pacing, I don’t know what is."

I scowled, crossing my arms. "Maybe I’m just thinking."

"About what?"

"None of your business."

His smirk grew, and my stomach flipped. "Everything about you is my business now. Or have you forgotten the role you’re playing?"

Before I could retort, the door clanged open, and the guards stepped in.

"The magicians want to see you," one of them said, his tone curt but tinged with that ever-present mockery.

"Of course they do," I muttered, brushing past them.

One guard chuckled. "You’re the only one who’s managed to control the beast. Quite the achievement."

A low growl echoed behind me, and the air grew noticeably warmer.

Ryvarn stood, his golden eyes narrowing dangerously. "Watch your tongue," he said, his voice low and deadly. "Stay out of my affairs."

The guard stiffened, muttering something under his breath, but I kept walking, my pulse racing.

...

The magicians’ chamber was cold and dim, the air thick with the tang of burning herbs. They sat in a semi-circle, their robes shimmering faintly with embedded runes that seemed alive.

One of them, a wiry man with sharp features, gestured for me to step forward. "You’ve done well so far," he said, his voice dripping with insincerity. "But it’s not enough."

I kept my expression blank. "What do you need from me?"

"The bonding must progress," he continued, his eyes narrowing. "The king’s patience is wearing thin. If you fail, you know the consequences."

The weight of his words settled heavily on my chest, but I nodded. "Understood."

Another magician, older and more skeptical, leaned forward. His eyes glinted with something darker. "Be careful, girl. Dragons are unpredictable. And so are kings."

I bowed, my heart thudding in my chest. "I won’t fail," I said, my voice steady despite the dread pooling in my stomach.

Inside, though, I repeated the same mantra. I have no choice.

...

That night, back in our shared quarters, the air between us felt heavier, laden with unspoken words. Ryvarn sat cross-legged on the floor, his gaze distant, while I busied myself with trivial tasks to avoid his piercing stare.

Finally, he spoke. "Why are you helping me?"

I froze, my hands clutching the edge of the table. "I told you," I said carefully. "I don’t want to die."

He stood, crossing the room in two quick strides. Before I could react, he grabbed my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. Heat radiated from his touch, spreading through my arm.

"That’s not the whole truth," he said, his voice low. "There’s something else."

I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened just enough to keep me still. "Ryvarn, let go."

"Not until you tell me," he insisted, his golden eyes burning into mine.

The dam broke. "Fine," I snapped. "You want the truth? I owe you."

His brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face.

"Years ago," I said, my voice shaking, "I was attacked. Rogues, in the woods. I thought I was going to die, but then… an angel saved me." My breath hitched. "He had wings—white-gold wings. He killed them and left before I could even thank him. And if I am not wrong that way you."

Realization dawned in his eyes, and he released my wrist. "I remember now," he said softly.

My heart stopped. "It was you," I whispered, horrified and awed.

He held my gaze, his expression unreadable. "I don’t forget those I save."

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words. Then his expression darkened, his voice dropping. "But if you’re lying to me about anything else, Nyssa…"

The warning hung in the air, sharp and dangerous.

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. I can’t let him find out the rest.