women don't yield

"You expect me to accept this?"

Xyra's voice rang out in the great hall, laced with barely restrained fury. The silence that followed was suffocating, every pair of eyes locked onto her as if she were a beast threatening to break its chains.

Her gaze burned with defiance as she faced her father, the decision of the council's decree pressing down on her chest like an iron shackle. She had fought wars in training yards, had carved her name in blood and steel, yet now…now she was being offered up like a bargaining chip.

King Veydris remained impassive, his expression unreadable. "This is not a request, Xyra."

Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. "You're asking me to bind myself to an enemy. To stand beside a man whose kind has burned our lands, slaughtered our warriors. And I am meant to call this peace?"

Beside her, Kaelor was rigid with fury, his emerald eyes locked onto Vaeren Drakarion as if sheer will alone could incinerate him.

"Would you wed her to him?" Kaelor's voice was a dark snarl, barely contained. "This is an insult. They are not even fated or Mated I would say. He's a Dragon for crying out loud, we're wolves. If they were to have a child, what would it be? A wolf? A dragon? Or both? That's an abomination!"

Vaeren, who had remained silent since his arrival, finally moved. He was calm, unnervingly so, as if the storm in the room was beneath him. His molten gold eyes flicked to Kaelor, assessing, unimpressed. His dead eyes stare death into Kaelor's soul.

"There is no insult," Vaeren said, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the chamber. "Only reality."

Kaelor took a step forward, but Xyra's sharp glare stopped him. She didn't need him fighting her battles. She turned her attention to Vaeren, forcing herself to meet those searing golden eyes, to look past the warrior's strength and see the man beneath. But he was unreadable. A living enigma, carved from fire and shadow.

Her voice was cold when she spoke. "Tell me, Crown Prince of Draganthar. Do you intend to claim me as one of your spoils of war? And according to what my betrothed said, what would it be if we were to have a child? An abomination?"

His gaze drifted from her mud-stained black boots, slowly tracing the curve of her hips in those form-fitting leather pants, before pausing briefly at her chest, only to finally rest on her face.

Then, with infuriating calm, he replied, "I intend to claim my future queen. And tell me, did I speak of you laying beside me? Or did I mention fucking you? Which is it? Don't run when you've not yet been pursued."

Heat flared across Xyra's cheeks…rage and something else. The audacity. The way his words undressed her in front of everyone, humiliated her and yet, there was no shame in his tone. Only dominance. Certainty. A muscle in her jaw tightened. He's trying to break me.

Her voice dropped into something lethal.

"You assume too much."

His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk but carried the same tint of provocation.

"And you resist too much."

The air between them crackled with tension, a clash of fire and steel that neither was willing to surrender. The High Council watched in uneasy silence, uncertain whether to intervene or let the moment play out.

King Veydris exhaled, his patience thinning. "Enough." His voice cut through the chamber, commanding, like a blade. "This union is necessary. There will be no more debate."

Xyra's breath came sharp and uneven, rage curling in her gut. "You would force me into this, father? I'm your only true blood and you're going to trade me for war peace?"

Her father's expression didn't soften. "I would ensure Vaeloria's survival."

Survival. That was what this was about. Not her wishes, not her future. Only duty. For a moment, the hall seemed to close in around her, the expectation pressing down on her shoulders. She had fought for her place in this kingdom, had earned respect with blood and battle, yet here she was, stripped of choice.

She looked back at Vaeren, her voice quiet but edged with iron. "Do you expect me to accept this willingly?"

Vaeren held her gaze, unwavering. "No."

The honesty in that single word startled her. He wasn't asking for submission. He wasn't pretending this was anything other than what it was…a necessary evil. A bond forged in war, not love. For the first time, something darted in his golden eyes, something she couldn't name.

Xyra lifted her chin, defiance still burning bright.

"I am not a woman who yields."

Vaeren stepped closer, just enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, the scent of fire and earth that clung to his skin. "Then it is a good thing I have no need for a woman who does."

Her breath caught. She wasn't sure if it was fury or something else entirely. But she knew one thing. This was only the beginning.