"She will not die," I said.
The elder lowered his gaze. "Every ambitious dragon in the city will test that statement."
"Let them."
"My lord—"
"I said let them."
White fire slipped between my teeth. A few dragons bowed their heads, not from loyalty but instinct. Their bodies knew what their pride forgot.
"If they come for her," I said, "I will answer."
Julius spoke carefully. "Fire will kill enemies. It will not make her safe from fear."
I turned on him. He did not bow this time.
"She is human," he said. "She does not understand our customs, our laws, our nature. You dragged her from a life she built with her own hands. If you guard her like treasure and speak to her like property, she will fight you harder than your enemies do."
Something sharp moved behind my ribs. Belinda's voice returned to me. You keep saying protect like it means own. She had not said it yet, not in those exact words. But I could feel the sentence waiting inside her. It annoyed me. It also felt true.
I dismissed the council before I burned through my patience. Sheba left with her chin lifted and murder in her perfume. I let her go. For now.
Julius followed me to my private chamber without being invited.
"I need no lecture," I said.
"You need several."
I glared at him. He ignored it.
"Do you know how human courting works?"
"I know how bodies work."
"That is not the same."
"It has always been enough."
"With dragons who expected nothing else from you, perhaps. With a human wife who did not know she was becoming your wife, no."
The words struck harder than they should have. I remembered Belinda's face when the ring formed. Not awe, not greed, shock, fear, then anger bright and alive.
"I will not force her," I snapped.
"I know." Julius studied me. "But not forcing is the floor, Maloric, not the ceiling."
I hated scholars. They made simple things complicated and complicated things impossible. After he left, I stood alone in a room built from obsidian and dragon bone, surrounded by weapons, crowns, tribute, and maps of territories I had won with blood. I had survived wars, betrayals, poison, assassination, and one century-long sleep beneath a mountain. Yet, the thought of speaking gently to one furious baker sat in my chest like a blade.
On my desk lay a human phone. I had purchased it years ago and mostly used it to threaten bankers. I picked it up. The device unlocked after three attempts and one growl. I opened the search bar. For a long moment, I stared at it. Then, with one finger, I typed, "How to make human wife feel safe."
The results appeared instantly. I frowned. There were too many. One said communication was important. Another suggested flowers. Another said listening. One article titled, "10 Ways to Rebuild Trust After a Sudden Marriage" seemed suspiciously specific. I opened it. The first sentence read, "Do not overwhelm your spouse with controlling behavior."
I set the phone down before I crushed it.
A knock came at the door. "Enter."
One of my guards stepped inside and bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the floor.
"My lord."
"What?"
"The queen requested coffee, inspected the locks, argued with Moses about fire safety, and has now gone to the lower furnace."
I went still. "She what?"
The guard swallowed. "She said if dragons are going to keep trying to burn her alive, she would like to know the rules before lunch."
For the first time in longer than I could remember, I did not know whether to roar or laugh. Belinda, my accidental bride, my political disaster, my human weakness with a gold ring and a sharper tongue than half my court, had walked toward dragon fire on purpose.
I reached for my coat. "Take me to her."
Belinda's point of view
The room they gave me was bigger than my entire apartment. Not a little bigger. Not, "Oh, this is spacious" bigger. Bigger like somebody had built it specifically to insult my tax bracket. There was a bed large enough to host a small family reunion, black stone walls veined with gold, heavy curtains, a fireplace that burned without wood, and a bathroom with a tub so deep I briefly wondered if rich people bathed or got baptized every night.
Derek checked the windows. Cindy checked the Wi-Fi. Melon checked the fruit bowl and whispered, "These grapes look expensive."
I stood in the middle of the room with a cup of coffee in one hand and a dragon marriage ring on the other, trying very hard not to scream. A guard stood outside the door. Another one stood inside the hall. Two more waited by the private elevator. For my protection, apparently. Funny how protection looked a lot like being trapped when the people doing it had claws under their skin.
Derek turned from the window. "We are too high up."
"I noticed."
"No fire escape."
"Also noticed."
Cindy lifted her phone. "And no service unless I connect to their Wi-Fi, which is named first flame underscore private. That feels like how people die in horror movies."
Melon bit into a grape. "This is the best grape I've ever had."
I looked at all three of them. My people, my bakery family, dragged into dragon [ __ ] because I accepted one shiny coin from a man too handsome to be trusted. I rubbed my ring with my thumb. It was warm. Always warm. Like it had a pulse.
"I'm going to ask questions," I said.
Derek narrowed his eyes. "Ask who?"
"The first person who looks like they know how not to die here."
"That is not a plan."
"It is the plan we can afford."
Before Derek could argue, someone knocked once and opened the door. An older man stepped in. He was tall, though not Melrick tall, with dark brown skin, a close-cut gray beard, and eyes the color of banked coals. His clothes were plain compared to everyone else's dramatic dragon fashion. Black trousers, dark shirt, leather apron marked with burn scars. He smelled like smoke, iron, and rain on hot pavement.
"You asked for knowledge," he said.
I lifted my coffee. "I asked for many things. Knowledge was one."