---
And then came the laughter. Thin. Mocking. Cracked like burnt wood.
Ayan's voice floated from the healing ward: "Lowly Hollowback's master... First, I will beat you to near death. Then I will sleep with that girl in front of your eyes. Then I will kill you with my own hands."
A few moments later… inside their room.
Star leaned into his leg then, his scaled shoulder pressing against Zephyr's thigh. The heat radiating from the drake was faint but steady. A silent vow. A promise of fire yet to come. Fenna was creating healing paste for Star.
Zephyr glanced down, letting his hand rest on the curve of Star's head.
In his mind, he replayed the battle again. Star had fought despite being wounded. They'd won but barely. If Dorian Slate had used another attack, or if Star's wing had faltered midair... Zephyr would have lost. Worse, Star could have got a permanent injury.
