Malachi's eyes burned down at me, but the corner of his mouth curved. "When you are ready, I will be very gentle."
My body, traitor that it was, heard that and forgot we were in public. "Not the time," I muttered.
"Agreed." But his hand stayed at my waist.
Across the arena, the last threads of white fire crawled over Sheba's witness seal. For 1 second, black-red sparks spat from her bracelet. I saw it. So did Julius. Sheba snatched her sleeve down.
Julius's voice cut through the murmuring court. "Amber house does not burn black-red."
The arena went cold in a way fire could not fix.
Sheba lifted her chin. "Careful, scholar."
Malachi turned his head toward her, slowly, deadly. "What did you bring into my house?" he asked.
Before she answered, a horn screamed from the outer gates. Then another. A guard burst into the arena, bleeding from the shoulder.
"My lord," he gasped, "Red Throat has breached the lower wall."
"Red Throat has breached the lower wall."
For one breath, Malric heard nothing after that. Not the court shouting, not the furnace vents screaming, not Sheba's quick inhale, only Belinda's heartbeat against his chest. Alive. Fast. His. She had stood in his white fire and lived. The stone around her had melted. The court had knelt. And now Red Throat had come crawling through his mountain like rot through bone.
Malric looked at the bleeding guard. "Where?"
"South furnace stair," the guard gasped. "They came through the old vents. Black-red flame. We lost the first gate."
"Kieran."
The name moved through Malric's blood like a blade. Belinda shifted against him.
"Put me down."
"No."
"Malric."
"No."
She lifted her face, eyes sharp despite the sweat on her skin and the tremor in her body. "I just survived your dramatic murder fire. Do not ruin the moment by acting stupid."
A terrible part of him wanted to laugh. A greater part wanted to lock her under the mountain and burn every corridor until nothing remained but ash and apology.
Moses stepped closer. "My lord."
Malric did not take his eyes from the arena doors. "Shield her."
Belinda opened her mouth. He looked down at her. "Please."
That stopped her. Good. He was learning which weapons worked on his wife. Her jaw tightened, but she allowed Moses and Cindy to draw her back toward the inner wall. Derek came with them, blade in hand, face tight with fear and fury.
Sheba moved only half a step. Julius saw it, too.
"Witness remains," Julius said, voice cutting through the chaos.
Sheba's eyes flashed. "I am no prisoner."
Malric turned his head. The court went quiet. "No," he said, "you are evidence."
Her perfect mouth parted. Then the south wall exploded.
Black-red fire tore through the lower arch, vomiting smoke, stone, and screaming guards into the arena. Nobles scattered. Wings flared. Someone fell burning. The old furnace stones cracked under the force of enemy flame.
Malric's body answered before thought. Scales broke through his skin. His bones lengthened. His nails became claws. Heat roared up his spine and the man-shape of him split open enough for the dragon beneath to look out. He did not fully change. The arena would not survive it, neither would half the court, but his wings tore free in a storm of black and gold. His teeth sharpened and white fire filled his throat until every red-throat soldier at the arch hesitated. They remembered him. Good. They should have remembered sooner.
Malric moved. The first enemy dragon came at him with a hooked blade. Malric caught the weapon in one hand and the dragon's face in the other. Bone cracked under his grip. He drove the bastard into the stone floor hard enough to split it.
The second breathed black-red flame. Malric opened his mouth and answered with white. Enemy fire died like a lie exposed. The soldier behind it died louder.
Screams rose, claws struck, steel rang. The arena became heat, blood, smoke, and judgment. Malric tore through them, not cleanly, not mercifully. Mercy was a language for safe rooms and sleeping children. This was invasion. This was treason. This was Belinda's blood nearly spilled in his own house.
He ripped a wing from one attacker and used the body to break another's charge. He burned three where they stood. He caught a red throat captain by the throat and squeezed until the dragon's eyes burst gold.
Somewhere behind him Belinda shouted, "Behind the stone, get low. Smoke rises, you hard-headed lizards."
Even now, even exhausted, even after white fire had nearly swallowed her, she was ordering dragons how to survive. His fire surged hotter.
"Mine," the dragon in him snarled, not as ownership, as vow.
Then Kieran stepped through the smoke. The left side of his face was ruined from Malric's last fire. Scales warped and blackened. One gold eye filmed with damage. His smile survived. That offended Malric most.
"My lord," Kieran rasped, "Still hiding behind a baker?"
Malric took one step. The floor beneath his foot glowed. Kieran lifted his hand. A chain of black-red flame snapped across the arena, not at Malric. At Belinda.
Malric turned with a roar. The ring answered first. Gold shield burst around her and the others taking the strike, but she staggered. Her knees hit stone. Cindy grabbed her arm. Derek swung at a red throat soldier climbing over the barrier.
Malric launched himself toward them. Kieran was faster than a wounded dragon had any right to be. He came through the smoke low, all claws and hate, and caught Belinda from behind as she rose. One blackened arm locked across her chest, the other claw pressed to her throat. A thin line of red appeared against her dark skin.
The world ended. Malrek's fire gathered. The arena shook. Every instinct in him screamed one answer: Burn him. Burn through him. Burn the hand touching her. Burn the throat that spoke near her ear. Burn the bones, the blood, the memory. Burn until no one ever again wondered what happened to creatures who put claws on Malrek's queen.
Kieran's ruined smile widened. "Do it."
Belinda's eyes found Malrek's through the smoke. Not pleading, commanding. "Don't," she said.
His fire snarled behind his teeth. Kieran pressed the claw harder. More blood slid down her neck.
"Listen to her, lord, or don't. I want to see if your claim ring can protect her from you."
Malrek could do it. He could burn so fine the fire would peel Kieran away from her skin and leave only ash. He could also kill her. Even the chance was madness. Still, vengeance clawed at him.
Sheba's voice cut from the side, cold and triumphant. "This is what he is, Belinda. Look well. A beast with a throne."
Malrek did not look at Sheba. Belinda did. Then she laughed. It was breathless, furious, and edged with pain. "Girl, shut up. I am being held hostage. Nobody asked for commentary."
Kieran jerked her tighter. Malrek's vision went white.
Belinda looked back at him quickly. "Malrek."