Just like Zairn, Slaine takes her lack of reaction to heart, forcing the blade deep into the flesh of her forearm. Dark blood pools from the gash, covering her skin and seeping into the stone of the torture chair, staining it purple. And still, Dagny doesn’t seem to notice.

Slaine’s mouth opens in a silent bellow as he slashes wildly, placing dozens of shallow wounds along her arms, chest, and neck. With each blow, he grows more vicious, slicing deeper and deeper until finally, I can no longer control my beast.

A film of shadows cuts across my vision as my wings burst from my spine. My claws elongate, my muscles quiver and strain, the disgusting squelching sound overshadowed by a cacophony of pops and crackles as my bones adjust to my growing size.

A bellowing roar pours from my open mouth as I slam into the barrier, pounding against the thin wall of magic and creating spiderweb cracks throughout the structure. The force of my blows shakes the entire room, threatening to send the stone walls of the castle crumbling around us. Sensing this, Slaine whips his head in my direction, searching for me through the one-way barrier. His mouth pulls into a frown as he lowers the blade to his side, all his anger at Dagny refocused onto me.

With a snarl, he throws the knife to the floor and storms toward the exit, barking some order at one of the soldiers before disappearing into the hallway. As soon as he leaves, I rush out of the observation room and down the stairs toward the torture chamber, narrowing my gaze on the group of soldiers barring the doorway.

“Move.” The single word passes my lips with enough violence to make them cower, and after a couple of shifty-eyed glances, they step to the side.

I’m through the door faster than they can blink and propelled across the distance with a single beat of my powerful wings. I fall to the floor at Dagny’s feet, curling my arms around her and hooking them at the back of the chair.

“Wildfire,” I choke, burying my face into her knees. “I’m so sorry, my wildfire. Look what he did to you… your beautiful skin…” I release my grip, pulling back to inspect the oozing gashes on her arms and chest. How could I let this happen?

Loathing spreads throughout my veins, filling me with disgust—and it’s all for myself. I did this to my mate. I’m the reason she was hurt. The reason she’s bleeding.

“Why did the gods curse you with a mate like me?” I wonder aloud, reaching to cup her cheek. Healing magic thrums warm at the base of my palms, and though it's weak, it will be enough. Slaine’s soldiers watch in awe as I slide my hand down her neck, then over her chest and arms, healing her wounds everywhere my skin touches.