Ash felt the words land like a physical blow.
My daughter's future husband.
The casual way Ignis said it—almost like he was testing the taste of the phrase on his tongue—twisted something deep in Ash's chest. Guilt, sharp and familiar. Longing, hotter and far more dangerous. And underneath it all, that traitorous spark of hope that refused to die no matter how many times he tried to smother it.
He forced a lopsided smile, leaning harder on the crutch to hide the way his good leg suddenly felt unsteady.
"Careful, Your Excellency," Ash murmured, voice pitched low so only the Dragon Lord could hear. "You almost sounded like you hated the idea."
Ignis's golden eyes flashed. For a split second the mask slipped completely—raw, possessive heat flickering across that dark chocolate face before regal composure slammed back into place. His tail gave one sharp, involuntary lash against the marble floor.
Before either of them could say anything more dangerous, Seraphina returned from speaking with the servants. She took in the charged silence between them with a single glance and offered a bright, slightly strained smile.
"The suite is ready, Father. The braziers are lit exactly as you prefer, and the kitchens have prepared some of those smoked mountain venison rolls you like. Ash spent half the morning bullying the chefs about the spices."
Ignis's gaze lingered on Ash a moment longer. "Did he."
They moved inside. The Obsidian Suite lived up to its name—towering ceilings, black stone veined with silver, wide windows that offered a sweeping view of the Azure River and the distant mountains. Warm light from the extra braziers danced across the walls, making the space feel less like a guest wing and more like a dragon's favored perch.
Ash lowered himself carefully onto one of the reinforced couches, biting back a wince as his ankle protested. Ignis noticed, of course. The Dragon Lord's sharp eyes missed nothing.
Seraphina hovered for a few minutes, chatting about the journey and court gossip, but eventually she excused herself with graceful diplomacy. "I'll let you two catch up. Father, you've had a long flight. Rest. I'll see you at the welcome banquet tonight."
She squeezed Ash's shoulder gently on her way out—comfort and warning both—then slipped away with Spark trotting after her.
The heavy double doors clicked shut.
Silence descended, thick and electric.
Ignis stood near the windows, backlit by the afternoon sun, every inch the untouchable Dragon Lord. But his tail betrayed him again, curling and uncurling with restless energy. His claws flexed once at his sides.
"You prepared this room personally," he said again, quieter this time.
Ash shrugged, trying to ignore the way his pulse roared in his ears. "Seiena wants to show proper respect to our most important ally."
"Is that so." Ignis turned fully toward him. In three measured strides he crossed the distance and dropped into the chair opposite Ash, close enough that their knees nearly brushed. "You chose the tallest windows. Extra braziers. Cushions positioned for an injured leg. You even remembered the venison rolls."
Ash's mouth went dry. "Maybe I just wanted you comfortable."
Ignis leaned forward, elbows on his knees, golden eyes burning. "Well. I must say I'm satisfied with your arrangements, Your Highness. "
The air between them crackled.
Ash's fingers tightened around the crutch until his knuckles whitened. Every instinct screamed at him to close the distance, to let himself drench himself on the sweet taste of his lips. But the memory of Seraphina's understanding smile kept him rooted.
"Ignis…" Ash started, voice rough.
A soft knock at the outer door interrupted them.
One of Ash's human aides entered, bowing deeply. "Forgive the intrusion, Your Highness. A report just arrived from the southern trade roads. There's been… an incident. Three merchant caravans attacked overnight. No fatalities, but the cargo was destroyed—specifically the dragon-glass shipments we were sending north as goodwill. The attackers swift and the merchants couldn't figure out who they were."
Ash's stomach dropped.
Ignis's expression darkened instantly. His tail stilled completely—a predator locking onto prey. "Show me."
The aide handed over the sealed report.
Ignis scanned it quickly, claws pricking tiny holes in the parchment.
"Convenient timing," Ignis growled. "An attack on symbols of our new alliance mere hours after my arrival."
Ash met his gaze. "You think it's targeted."
"I think someone does not want this alliance to succeed." Ignis set the report down with deliberate care, but Ash could see the tension coiling in those broad shoulders.
"And they are bold enough to act while I am here."
The romantic tension from moments ago shifted into something sharper—shared purpose laced with danger. Ash felt the familiar transmigrator instincts kick in. In the original novel, there had been shadowy forces working for Asher's plans. Helping him get all kinds of precious gemstones and manastones to enhance his magical ability. Telling dragons weaknesses, and fueling his desire for revenge.
He had assumed they were his subordinate but guess not.
"I'll have my people double the guard on the trade routes," Ash said. "And increase patrols near the river."
Ignis nodded once. Then his gaze softened fractionally as it dropped back to Ash's bandaged ankle. "After you rest. You are no use to anyone if you collapse."
Ash huffed a quiet laugh. "There you go sounding like my mother again."
"I am concerned your physique will hinder your full potential." The admission came out raw. Ignis reached across the space between them and carefully, almost reverently, rested one large clawed hand on Ash's uninjured knee. The touch burned through the fabric. "You're reckless. Impulsive. You throw yourself into rivers. Without caring for yourself. That's not how—"
" A future Emperor acts, I know. " Ash ruffled his hair, his beautiful forelock swinging left and right with motion. A soft smile leaving from his lips.
Ignis's golden eyes locked on him for a moment. When they moved away again, the hunger—bare, unguarded hunger was gone. Replaced by his cold, impassive expression again.
"We must arrange a meeting with his majesties," he said, voice like gravel and smoke. "This is no small matter."
Ignis rose up to inspect the rest of the suite, Ash watched the powerful lines of his back and felt the weight of everything pressing down: the alliance, Seraphina's quiet heartbreak, his own treacherous heart, and now this new threat lurking in the shadows.
Somewhere beyond the palace walls, unseen eyes watched the arrival with gleaming interest. A masked figure whispered something in the glimmering light blue stone on his hand and vanished into the thin air.