Free Survive My Fire by Joely Sue Burkhart

and prepared to fight to the death with me. Ah, my fierce mate, how I love him!
    With my neck free, I blasted flames in all directions. The priest was able to protect himself, but the Krait quickly retreated to safety. My broken wing sent sharp agony throbbing deep into my shoulder. I couldn’t fly, but I could certainly break iron. Twisting my head around, I bit at the chains trapping me on the black rock.
    Jalan shouted, struggling with at least a dozen of his clansmen. He tried to keep them back, but he was reluctant to kill them. I understood, but desperation made me vicious. The chains were as thick as my warrior’s thighs. I couldn’t break them with my teeth, and I couldn’t reach them with my claws. I was better caged than the Red we killed at dusk. They had simply wanted to use him; they wanted to incapacitate me until my death.
    Roaring curses, Jalan fell against my flank and quickly pushed back to his feet. “By Yama, no! I won’t let you harm her! Damn you all to Shadow and Despair!”
    His words froze the Fire blazing in my heart. He cursed his people. He would curse his God next. He would damn himself for all time, as I had done. I remembered driving his dragon back inside when I was in the two-legged form, but I knew I couldn’t save him from such a curse. I couldn’t save myself from that mistake.
    Memory flooded me. The youthful arrogance of a young woman in love, blindly declaring my heart for the warrior I wanted, refusing all counsel that he wasn’t mine to claim. Like a petulant child, I demanded my toy from the Gods, and when they failed to reward me, I cursed them. I fought for what I wanted, I demanded what I wanted, and damned myself with my pride. Instead of surrendering a warrior who didn’t love me to his mate, I killed him.
    Surrender.
    I couldn’t surrender to save tal’Adder all those centuries ago. But I could save Jalan. I could save him from my curse, if only I let them kill me. Love welled in my fierce heart, unshakeable and eternal. For him, I would do anything.
    I stretched my head out on the rock and went still. While Jalan fought his people, the black priest worked his way to my side, a small blade in his hand. “Bless you, Chanda, daughter of Somma. Love waters your heart. Let your blood water our land and save your mate’s people.”
    He sliced my throat open cleanly. The pain was sharp, deep, but faded quickly.   I kept my gaze locked on my stone warrior, his proud, chiseled face, his beauty as he danced the blades. My blood rushed down the black rock. I heard it sizzle in the
Venom
Sea
below. The ground trembled in answer and the morning sun darkened.
    “No!” Agonized, Jalan pushed through his clansmen. He fell to his knees beside me, horror and grief etched on his pale face. “Chanda, no!”  
    He dragged my head into his lap and pressed his forehead to mine. Ah, so sweet, to feel his breath on my scales. His tears. Stone cried for me, watering my heart indeed. Peace filled me. At last, I knew what love was. Real love. The kind of love that I would fight for, rightfully, with the Gods’ full blessing. The kind of love I would die for.
    Love, the greatest sacrifice.
    I died for him.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    An image came to Jalan’s mind, weak and distant, but so very real. A boulder, sitting before a massive White Dragon. His human shoulder held so gently in her jaws.
    Jalan threw his head back and bellowed his grief to the Gods above.
    The ground rocked, throwing people to the sands. Crumbling shoreline tumbled into the
Venom
Sea
. Despair flooded the sky with fumes of suffocating death. Jalan coughed, his eyes streaming, but not from the corrupted air.  
    Chanda was gone.
    And so he should be dead. Why did his cursed heart still beat? He was Given to her.   He needed to die with her. She would stand before She Who Hung the Moon alone, defenseless, beaten. It wasn’t right. Not his proud, fierce White. She deserved the