Dragon Touched

Al entered the Commandant’s office still rolling his shoulders from PT, the faint ache of yesterday’s run lingering in his legs. The noblewomen were already there—Catrin, Pryce, and Rhyosyn—standing in a tense half-circle before Vale’s desk.

The Commandant’s face was unreadable, but there was an edge to her tone that hadn’t been there the night before. “I received word from the capital at first light,” she began, holding up a sealed dispatch stamped with the wax sigil of the Triumvirate. “Your group is to be transferred immediately.”

Catrin frowned. “Transferred? To where?”

Vale’s jaw tightened. “To the capital itself. The Triumvirate has taken an interest in your discovery. They wish to examine the… circumstances of your return from the Maw—and this man’s arrival.”

Al folded his arms. “Examine? You make it sound like I’m a damn artifact.”

“From their point of view,” Vale said evenly, “you are.”

The room went still.

Rhyosyn’s brow furrowed. “They’ll want to test him.”

Vale nodded once. “And question him. And, most likely, secure him.”

Al’s mouth went dry. “Secure me?”

“They have also recommended,” she said carefully, “that you be fitted with a restraint device. For your protection, of course.”

Al stared at her. “A device.”

Vale inclined her head. “To prevent tampering.”

“Tampering,” he repeated, his tone flat.

“Yes,” she said. “It… goes around your waist.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Prevents what, exactly?” Al asked, already dreading the answer.

Vale’s voice didn’t waver, but her eyes flicked briefly toward the nobles—a soldier’s silent apology. “It ensures that no one can… interfere. Physically. With you.”

Understanding dawned. Al blinked once, then slowly raised an eyebrow. “You mean—”

Rhyosyn cleared her throat delicately. “Yes,” she said. “That.”

Al exhaled through his nose. “Ah.”

He looked from one woman to another, then back to the Commandant. “So, basically, you’re telling me I need a magical chastity belt.”

Pryce’s lips thinned. “That’s an indelicate term, but—yes.”

Vale let out a low sigh and leaned back in her chair, the steel of command softening for a fleeting instant. “Fortunately,” she said dryly, “I don’t have one.”

Catrin winced. Rhyosyn looked away, hiding a smile that wasn’t amusement.

Al let out a humorless laugh. “Lady, where I come from, we just call that a crime.”

Vale’s tone softened, just slightly. “Here, it’s an inevitability. I don’t like it any more than you do, Marine.”

The silence stretched until it started to hurt.

Finally, Al sighed. “You know, back home, this would be the part where my lawyer starts earning his paycheck.”

Rhyosyn tilted her head. “What’s a lawyer?”

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Someone whose job it is to stop this kind of nonsense before it starts.”

Vale folded her hands atop the dispatch, the weight of command settling back into her posture. “We don’t have those here.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Al met her eyes. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Then, after a beat, he added, “So when do we leave?”

Vale nodded once. “Within the hour.”

He turned to go, but she stopped him with one final warning.

“Marine.”

He looked back.

“You’ve already survived one impossible place,” she said. “Try not to make the next one worse.”