The crowd hissed. Malrek's gaze slid to the tire iron. Every person outside my bakery went still again. I stepped between them because Derek was brave, loyal, and too stubborn to survive a bad decision.
"No killing my cousin," I told Malrek.
"I had not decided to kill him."
"That is not comforting."
Derek blinked. "Had not decided?"
Cindy made a small sound behind him. "I am going to throw up."
"Not on the welcome mat," I said. "I paid for that."
Malrek looked at me as if I'd said something fascinating. I held up my ringed hand. "Explain. Now."
His eyes dropped to the band. His expression softened, but only slightly. On him, softness looked like a blade wrapped in velvet.
"You accepted my gold."
"I accepted payment."
"You accepted true gold from my living hoard. Spoken over a wedding offering."
"A cake," I snapped.
"It was a cake?"
"In my culture, food prepared for union is oath food."
"In my culture, it is dessert."
His jaw tightened. "Words matter, Belinda."
"You told me that after you broke into my bakery."
"I entered because the wards allowed me."
"The what allowed you?"
He seemed genuinely confused by my anger. That almost made it worse. He stood there like any reasonable woman should already understand ancient dragon marriage law before breakfast. I closed my eyes for 1 second. Just one. When I opened them, he was still there. Damn.
"So, let me understand this," I said slowly. "I took a coin, and now I have in-laws with wings."
A few people in the crowd made offended noises. Malrek looked over his shoulder. The noises died immediately.
"Not in-laws," he said. "Subjects."
I laughed once. "That is worse."
Derek's face twisted. "Subjects? Belinda, what the hell did you get into?"
"A cake order."
Cindy leaned around Derek, eyes wide. "Is he rich?"
I gave her a look. "Cindy."
"What? I'm panicking, but I'm still me."
Malachi turned back to me. "You are now claimed under the first flame. Any hand raised against you is a hand raised against me."
"Claimed?" The word tasted sour. "I'm not a lost suitcase."
"No." His voice lowered. "You are my bride."
The way he said it sent heat straight through me, unwanted and sharp. Not sweet, not romantic. It sounded like a lock sliding into place. I hated that some stupid part of me reacted. I hated that he noticed. His gaze dropped to my mouth for half a second, then returned to my eyes with a focus so intense it felt like a touch.
"Nope," I said, pointing at him. "Do not look at me like that. I did not agree to be anyone's bride."
"You spoke acceptance. For money."
"For gold."
"For rent," I shot back. "For electricity, for the busted mixer in my kitchen that sounds like it has tuberculosis. I did not say, 'Yes, please. Make me queen of the dragon mafia.'"
Another murmur, louder this time.
"Dragon," Derek said quietly.
Cindy whispered, "I knew it."
I turned on her. "You knew what?"
"I didn't know. But look at him."
Before I could answer, the crowd split. A man stepped forward from the back. He was handsome in the same dangerous way many of them were, but his face carried a mean kind of pride. His hair was braided close to his skull, and red sparks moved beneath the skin at his throat like embers trapped under glass. He did not kneel.
Malachi's body changed. Not fully. Not in any way I could explain without sounding drunk, but the air around him thickened. Heat rolled off his shoulders. The gold in his eyes sharpened until it hurt to look at him.
The man smiled. "So, this is her?" he said. "The human who bought a throne with a bakery cake?"
I felt my eyebrows rise. "Bought? Baby, if I was buying a throne, I'd have negotiated better."
A few faces in the crowd twitched. The man's smile died.
"You speak too freely."
"And you walked up to my business talking [ __ ] before 7:00 in the morning. We all have flaws."
Malachi muttered, "That's my girl."
Malachi did not smile. "Leave, Kieran," he said.
The man's red-lit eyes fixed on me. "If she dies before the final binding, the claim breaks."
The street went silent. My stomach dropped. There it was. Not confusion, not ceremony, not some royal misunderstanding wrapped in pretty gold. Death. Real and ugly.
Malachi moved one step in front of me. "Say another word," he said softly, "and I will pull your tongue out through your throat."
Kieran laughed. Then his mouth split wider than any human mouth should. Cindy screamed. Black-red scales ripped across his face. His fingers bent backward with wet cracks stretching into claws. Heat burst from him rotten and metallic, and the air filled with the stink of burned pennies.