"She is unconscious, Nyrix," Auren countered, his jaw tight. "And she is a human being. I don't leave the injured to die." He gripped Arin tighter, feeling the fragile pulse at her neck, a steady, weak rhythm against his thumb.
No. You leave the dangerous ones to die, Nyrix corrected, a hint of steel in her mental voice. This one… she feels like trouble. Like a storm in a teacup, waiting to break.
"She is my responsibility now," Auren stated, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "And I don't abandon my responsibilities."
Hmph. As you say, little rider. Nyrix's mental sigh was almost audible. But when the time comes to explain this to your queen, do not come crying to me. My loyalty, Auren, is to Elyra. She would rip your head off before she let you look at another woman, let alone save one.
Auren managed a faint, grim smile. "I'm not looking, Nyrix. And I'll handle Elyra." He knew it was a lie. Elyra was harder to handle than any dragon, colder than any winter storm.
