Seraphina's POV
"Stop staring at me like I'm going to murder you in your sleep."
Kaelith's voice cut through the silence as he led us down a long corridor carved from black stone. Guards lined the walls—dragons in human form with weapons and hostile eyes that tracked my every movement.
I tore my gaze away from a particularly scary-looking warrior with scars across his face. "Can you blame me? Your second-in-command just said the last human healer tried to assassinate you. And everyone here looks like they want to rip my throat out."
"They do want to rip your throat out," Kaelith said casually. "But they won't. I've made that very clear."
"How reassuring," I muttered.
Lyria squeezed my hand tightly, her face pale with terror. She hadn't said a word since we entered the fortress, just stayed pressed close to my side like a frightened rabbit.
We climbed a spiral staircase that seemed to go on forever. My legs burned with exhaustion—I hadn't slept properly in days, hadn't eaten anything but moldy bread, and my wrists still ached where the shackles had been.
Finally, Kaelith stopped in front of massive double doors.
"These are my private quarters." He pushed them open to reveal a room that took my breath away. It was huge, with a balcony overlooking the mountains, a fireplace big enough to stand in, and furniture that looked like it cost more than my entire life had been worth. "Your room connects to mine through that door."
He pointed to a side door that made my stomach drop.
"I'm sleeping next to you?" The words came out higher than I intended.
"Where I can keep an eye on you. Yes." His expression was unreadable. "Don't worry, little healer. I don't attack sleeping humans. Where's the sport in that?"
I couldn't tell if he was joking.
Kaelith opened the connecting door to reveal another beautiful room—slightly smaller but still incredibly luxurious. Silk curtains, a bed piled with soft blankets, a writing desk by the window.
A golden cage, I realized. Beautiful but still a prison.
"Lyria will stay here with you," Kaelith continued. "Food will be brought three times a day. Don't try to leave these rooms without permission, or my guards will assume you're escaping and act accordingly."
"Meaning they'll kill us," I translated.
"Meaning they'll kill you very efficiently." He studied my face. "You understand your position here, don't you? You're alive because I find you... interesting. The moment that changes—"
"I'm dead. Got it." I crossed my arms, trying to look braver than I felt. "When do you want me to start treating the poison?"
"Now." The single word held command and challenge. "Unless you're too tired?"
He was testing me. Seeing if I'd back down or make excuses.
I lifted my chin. "Show me the wound."
Something flickered in his golden eyes—approval? Surprise? It was gone too fast to tell.
"Lyria, you can explore the room," I said gently. "I'll be fine."
"But miss—" Lyria's voice trembled.
"I'll be fine," I repeated with more confidence than I felt.
Lyria reluctantly let go of my hand and backed into the room, watching Kaelith like he might suddenly transform into his dragon form and eat us both.
Kaelith led me into his chambers and closed the door behind us with a soft click that sounded very final.
The room was darker than mine, with heavy curtains and minimal decoration. A warrior's room, practical and cold. He walked to the bed and sat on the edge, then started unbuttoning his shirt.
My face burned hot. "What are you doing?"
"The poison covers most of my chest and back. You can't treat it through clothing." He shrugged off the shirt completely, revealing bronze skin marked with black veins that spread like dark lightning across his torso. The sight was horrifying and mesmerizing.
This close, I could see how much pain he was in. The veins pulsed with sickly dark energy, and his breathing was slightly labored. He was dying slowly, and he'd been dying for two hundred years.
"How are you still alive?" I whispered, moving closer despite my fear.
"Pure stubbornness." His lips curved in a bitter smile. "And hatred. Hatred is an excellent motivator."
I knelt in front of him, examining the poison's spread. It originated from a spot over his heart—where the weapon must have struck him. "Tell me what happened. How were you poisoned?"
Kaelith's jaw tightened. "Does it matter?"
"If I'm going to heal you, I need to understand what I'm fighting." I met his eyes. "Please."
He was silent for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. Then he spoke, his voice flat and emotionless—which somehow made it worse.
"Two hundred years ago, my family hosted a peace summit with human leaders. My parents wanted to end the wars, believed humans and dragons could coexist." His golden eyes grew distant. "I was young, barely a century old. Optimistic and stupid. When the humans asked to tour our sacred vault as a gesture of trust, my father agreed. They stole a dragon heartstone—a sacred artifact—and forged it into weapons designed to kill us."
My breath caught.
"At the final feast, they attacked. Used those weapons to slaughter everyone—my parents, my siblings, the clan elders. Everyone except me." His hand unconsciously touched the spot over his heart. "Their leader drove a heartstone blade into my chest. It should have killed me instantly, but I survived long enough to kill him and escape. The poison from the weapon has been eating me alive ever since."
Tears stung my eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't." His voice turned sharp. "Don't pity me. I don't want your pity."
"It's not pity. It's empathy." I placed my hand gently over the worst of the poison, where the black veins were thickest. "I know what it's like to be betrayed by people you trusted."
The moment my skin touched his, something extraordinary happened.
The black veins began to glow silver—the same color as my mother's moonstone necklace. Warmth spread from my palm into his chest, and the poison seemed to pull back, retreating from my touch like it was alive and afraid.
Kaelith sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening. "What—how—"
"I don't know," I admitted, watching in amazement as the poison lessened visibly. The black veins faded to grey under my hand. "I've never seen anything like this."
For the first time in our short acquaintance, Kaelith looked truly shocked. He grabbed my wrist—not roughly, but firmly—holding my hand against his chest.
"Don't stop," he commanded, his voice rough. "Whatever you're doing, don't stop."
I kept my hand there, feeling the poison fight against whatever power was flowing from me. It was exhausting, like arm-wrestling an invisible opponent. Sweat beaded on my forehead.
After several minutes, I had to pull away, gasping. "I'm sorry. I can't... it's too much."
Kaelith looked down at his chest in wonder. The black veins were still there, but noticeably lighter. For the first time in two centuries, the poison had actually retreated.
"Impossible," he breathed. "Hundreds of healers have tried. Powerful magic users, ancient dragons with healing abilities, even a witch who claimed to commune with the dead. None of them could touch the poison." His golden eyes locked onto mine with terrifying intensity. "What are you?"
"Just a healer," I said weakly, though I knew that wasn't true anymore.
"No." He stood abruptly, towering over me. "You're something else. Something more." He grabbed my chin gently, forcing me to meet his gaze. "That mark on your throat—the one your necklace covered. Darius recognized it. The Lunaris bloodline symbol."
My heart stopped. "The what?"
"An ancient line of priestesses blessed by the moon goddess herself. They could bridge the gap between humans and dragons, heal any wound, break any curse." His thumb traced the faint mark on my throat that I'd never even known was there. "But they all died three hundred years ago. Every last one."
"That's impossible," I whispered. "My mother was just a commoner. A nobody."
"Was she?" Kaelith's eyes burned into mine. "Or did she hide what she was to protect you?"
Before I could respond, someone pounded violently on the door.
"My King!" Darius's voice shouted urgently. "We have a problem!"
Kaelith's expression shifted instantly from curious to deadly. "What kind of problem?"
"The kind that's standing at our gates with an army."
My blood turned to ice.
Kaelith threw his shirt back on and strode to the door, yanking it open. "Explain."
Darius looked grim. "Lord Damien Corvus and Commander Thorne Blackwell have arrived with three hundred soldiers. They're demanding we hand over the human healer for crimes against the kingdom." His eyes flicked to me with something like sympathy. "They want to execute her publicly."
The room spun.
Damien was here. My ex-fiancé who'd betrayed me, who'd married my half-sister, who'd watched me get dragged away in chains—he'd followed me to the dragon territory to finish destroying me.
"They're also claiming," Darius continued quietly, "that the healer is a dangerous criminal who attempted to assassinate the Duke and must face justice."
"That's a lie!" I gasped. "I never—"
"They have documents," Darius interrupted. "Signed testimonies from witnesses. Including one from Lady Elena Corvus, who swears you confessed your treasonous plans to her before fleeing."
Elena. Of course. She wasn't content with just ruining my life—she wanted me dead.
Kaelith's expression was utterly unreadable. He looked at me for a long, silent moment.
Then he spoke, his voice cold and final.
"Tell them I'll consider their request."
My world tilted sideways. "What?"
"You said you'd consider it?" Darius sounded as shocked as I felt.
Kaelith's golden eyes held mine, and I couldn't read anything in them. "I said I'd consider it. Schedule a meeting for tomorrow at dawn. I'll give them my answer then."
"But my King—"
"That's an order, Darius."
Darius bowed stiffly and left.
The door closed, leaving me alone with the Dragon King.
"You're going to hand me over," I said numbly. "You're going to let them execute me."
"I said I'd consider it."
"That's not an answer!" My voice broke. "You said I was under your protection!"
"Protection from my people. Not from yours." He moved closer, his expression impossible to read. "Tell me the truth, Seraphina. Did you try to kill the Duke?"
"No! I swear on my mother's grave, I never—"
"Then why do they have witnesses?"
"Because Elena paid them to lie! Because Damien wants me dead! Because I'm—" My voice cracked completely. "Because I'm nobody, and they can say whatever they want about me, and who would believe a bastard over a lord?"
Kaelith studied my face for a long, terrible moment.
"You have until dawn to prove your value to me," he said finally. "If you can heal more of my poison tonight, show me that you're truly worth protecting, then I'll refuse their request." His eyes glittered dangerously. "But if you fail, if you're just an ordinary healer who got lucky once, then perhaps it's better to let the humans have you."
The words hit like a physical blow.
"That's not fair," I whispered.
"Life isn't fair, little healer. You of all people should know that." He walked to the door. "You have twelve hours. Use them wisely."
He left me standing there, shaking and terrified.
Lyria rushed in from the connecting room, having obviously heard everything. "Miss! We have to escape! We have to—"
"There's nowhere to run," I said hollowly. "We're surrounded by dragons who want us dead, and now there's a human army outside demanding my execution." I looked at my hands—these ordinary, powerless hands that had somehow hurt the poison. "I have to heal him. It's my only chance."
"But what if you can't?"
That was the question, wasn't it?
What if I couldn't?
What if the first healing was just luck?
What if by dawn, Kaelith decided I wasn't worth the trouble and handed me to Damien like a piece of unwanted baggage?
I'd survived betrayal, humiliation, and three days of hell getting here.
But I might not survive tomorrow.