​"That—" Caspian wanted to speak, but Hana raised her hand, causing the words to hang in his throat right away.

​"Come down, Caspian," she said. In front of all eyes watching, she wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to act out his pride, but he obeyed, flying down until his feet landed on the stone and his wings retracted. But the darkness in his eyes as he glared at Kulu was so raw that the air turned heavy.

​Kulu flew down as well. He landed a few paces away, his chest heaving and his eyes never leaving the female who had just distracted him in the heat of battle. He looked like a man torn between two worlds: the vengeful warrior wanting to restore his father’s honor and the pathetic servant waiting for a word of praise from his ’goddess’.

​Hana stood her ground, arms folded tightly as the dust settled. Her cheek stung, but her mind was moving faster than the pain. She looked at Kulu, then followed his gaze to the white-clad female behind the elders. It was a look of pure, desperate adoration—the kind that made a man forget he was standing a hair’s breadth away from a dragon’s maw.

Kulu had been so focused on proving himself to her that he hadn’t realized Caspian was about to end his life. If Hana hadn’t shouted, he wouldn’t be a ’Vengeful Prince’ anymore; he’d be a charred memory.

​But as Hana followed his gaze, her blood turned cold. The female, Lira, wasn’t looking at Kulu at all. She didn’t even have the decency to look worried about the man risking everything for her.

​Lira was strikingly beautiful in a fragile, ethereal way. Her skin was a pale, creamy tan, and her long red hair was braided with delicate white down feathers. Her pregnancy was prominent, her belly round and heavy, and she rested a slender hand atop it with practiced grace.

But she wasn’t acting like the ’Saint’ she was supposed to be; her watery grey eyes were fixed entirely on Caspian, tracing the line of his powerful shoulders with a predatory hunger she tried to mask as ’helplessness’.

​The oldest of the Falcon elders stepped forward, his eyes narrowed at Hana. "A human woman... commanding the Fire King? We have seen many things on these cliffs, but never a land-crawler who holds a dragon’s leash."

​"I don’t hold leashes," Hana said, her voice dropping into that cold, dangerously level tone. "I’m Hana. And for your information, this ’Fire King’ is my mate. If you want to talk about survival, you talk to me."

​"Hana..." the Elder whispered, his eyes traveling to her shimmering silver dress. "You wear the color of the divine. Are you a Saint of the lowlands? Have you come to offer blessings?"

​Hana clicked her tongue. "You can call me a Saint, a survivor, or the woman who’s about to ruin your day. It doesn’t matter. I’m here for the metal crates at the edge of the cliff. Passage for passage. We take what’s mine, and I keep my dragon from turning this ridge into a kiln."

​Lira chose that moment to let out a melodic sigh, tilting her head just enough to catch the light, projecting the image of a delicate flower needing a strong mountain to protect her.

​’She’s making eyes at my man while her ’knight’ is bleeding for her,’ Hana thought, her jaw tightening.

​Kulu, seeing Lira’s movement, misinterpreted it as fear. "Do not worry, Lira! I will handle this human!"

​Hana’s sharp scoff made him turn, his eyes full of disdain. "What, human? Do you have more words to hide behind while your beast does your fighting? You speak of passage, but your beast has drawn too much blood on these stones. That blood must be repaid."

​"Repaid?" Hana let out a sharp, dry laugh. "I’m the only one wounded here, Kulu. But I have a question. This attack—was it truly to avenge your father’s wings? Or was it a desperate attempt to impress a female who won’t even look you in the eye?"

​Kulu stiffened, his crimson feathers flaring. "Lira is... she is the heart of our tribe! I protect her because it is my duty!"

​"Duty?" Hana stepped closer. "You almost died just now, Kulu. And while you were in the air, your ’heart’ wasn’t praying for your safety. Lira was busy wondering if the dragon’s fire was hotter than a falcon’s sun."

​The Elders shifted uncomfortably. The ’Saint’s’ mask didn’t break, but her fingers tightened on her white robes as she saw Hana reading her like an open book.

​"Don’t speak her name with your filthy mouth!" Kulu roared, his wings hardening into blades.

​Hana didn’t flinch. She leaned in, her eyes boring into his. "Wanna see how I destroy you with this ’filthy mouth’?"

​"Enough!" the Elder barked. He looked at Hana, then at the distant metal crates. "The boxes are in the high lookout. If we grant you passage, what guarantee do we have that the Fire King won’t finish what he started seasons ago?"

​Hana glanced at her system window. A broken heart is more useful than a broken wing. She saw the way Lira was still trying to catch Caspian’s eye, and the way Kulu was pathetically begging for a glance that would never come.

​"Because I’m the one in charge here," Hana stated. "And I don’t like my time being wasted by a ’Prince’ who can’t see he’s being used as a footstool. So, let’s make a deal. This has nothing to do with the fight just now, but everything to do with my esteemed self being insulted."

​"What do you want to do?" the Elder asked.

​"Nothing much. But if Kulu can’t prove that he’s actually the one Lira wants—if she won’t choose him right here, right now, since he has been so ’devoted’ to her—then he’s going to be the one to carry those crates out for me. Personally."

​She turned her gaze to Kulu, her voice dripping with challenge.

​"Shall we see where your loyalty truly lies, Prince? Or are you afraid that your ’Saint’ has eyes for my self-proclaimed King instead of the upcoming King of her own tribe?"