Chosen by the Beasts, Claimed by the Dragon Chapter 30: Noticed

— ZORYN —

I’ve washed all my wounds, and I’m nice and clean now. I didn’t bother to dress them because most of them are going to heal up on their own within a few hours, and I don’t mind having so badass scars left behind.

I’m wearing another of my old tank tops, but it still fits weirdly with my chest being free, and I’m so not used to it. It feels like it got three inches shorter, so now my midriff is slightly exposed. My belly button hasn’t gotten this much sun in a long ti.

At least my pants still fit the sa; I have that to be grateful for. Hopefully I don’t have to get rid of too much of my wardrobe when I get ho... mostly because I only have, like, five things I wear, and it’ll be a travesty trying to adjust to a lot of new things at once.

Roan and I are, as no one could have guessed, on our way to where the feast is going to be held. Roan is mid-rant about how unfair it is that champions don’t get double food privileges when I hear hurried footsteps behind us.

"Zoryn—! Wait—"

I glance over my shoulder and spot Orien weaving through the crowd, clutching a satchel to his chest like it contains state secrets. His wings are tucked tight, feathers ruffled, and he looks like he had to psych himself up for this.

I slow instinctively.

"Oh," I say, smiling. "Hey, Feathers."

He flushes imdiately. "Hi."

Roan looks between us once, then grins way too knowingly. "I, uh—forgot sothing. Important bear business." He points vaguely behind us. "I’ll et you at the feast."

"Roan," I start.

...Nope, he’s already gone.

Traitor! He’s lucky I like Orien; otherwise, this sneaky move of helping the poor avian have alone ti with wouldn’t go unpunished.

Orien and I fall into step together, a little awkward at first.

"...You were incredible today," he blurts out, then visibly winces like he said it too loud. "I an—not just incredible. Technically incredible. Your footwork in the third bout was really efficient."

I snort. "You make it sound like I’m a machine."

He shakes his head quickly. "No! I an, you adapt really fast. Most fighters rely on one pattern."

That... hits. It’s one thing to hear other seasoned warriors complint and tell that I have a unique fighting style, that I’m clever, but to have soone who doesn’t even take part in fights say it—there’s sothing touching in that.

I feel a warmth blooming in my chest. "Thanks," I say, quieter.

He nods, then hesitates, fingers tightening around his satchel. "I also—um. I noticed you were favoring your shoulder afterward."

I shrug. "Got nicked. It’ll heal."

"I know," he says. "But still."

He stops walking, gently tugging my wrist so I stop too. I look down at him curiously, but before I can ask what he’s doing, he opens the satchel and pulls out a small tin and a strip of cloth.

"I made this," he says, suddenly shy. "It’s a cooling salve. Helps with inflammation and muscle strain."

I blink. "You just... carry that around?"

"...Yes?"

I laugh softly. "You’re unreal."

"May I?" he asks, gesturing to my shoulder.

I nod—and, although he would likely be too embarrassed to say it, I know he’s too short to reach the top of my shoulder comfortably, so I lean to the side a little to allow him easier access.

His touch is careful, warm, and respectful. He doesn’t linger longer than necessary, but he doesn’t rush either. The salve cools instantly, sinking into my skin with a pleasant tingle. I guess I didn’t realize how uncomfortable the wound actually was. It was one of the deepest gashes I got—Riven really clawed good with that move.

"That feels amazing," I murmur.

He relaxes at that, just a little. "Good."

When he finishes, he ties the cloth neatly, fingers brushing my skin once more before pulling away. "You didn’t fight like soone trying to prove anything," he says quietly. "You fought like winning was the only outco. It was so aweso."

My chest tightens, and I smirk to cover it. "Careful. You’re flirting."

His wings twitch. " I-I am?"

"Yeah," I tease. "But it’s working."

He swallows, eyes flicking to my lips for half a second before he catches himself. "I’m glad," he says honestly, though it’s obvious there’s sothing on his mind.

We start walking again.

Just before the feast lights co into view, he adds, almost as an afterthought, "If you ever want armor designed specifically for you... I’d like to do that. Not because you need protection. Just—because you deserve sothing made with care."

I glance at him. "You trying to court , Orien?"

He goes red to the tips of his feathers.

"...Maybe a little."

I grin. "Good. You’re doing great—I think. I don’t know, I’ve never done it before, either."

"Ah... but, um, I noticed..." Orien glances at my neck. There’s a brief pause before he adds, cautiously, "You have a... a mark?"

"I do," I answer. "Ren is my fated mate, so he marked last night."

"Oh... I see," Orien speaks quietly. "Congratulations!"

"Don’t sound so sad," I tease.

Orien’s gaze is downcast, "I’m assuming by Ren, you an Young Lord Zarenien, right? He’s terrifying, and I don’t want to die, even if you’re the most amazing person in the world."

I start to laugh, and it’s at that mont that Roan approaches us. My big companion smirks, "Don’t worry, Zarenien already said he won’t kill anyone as long as they don’t have sex with her. So, romance is totally on the table."

The avian’s face turns bright red, and his expression turns to one of complete shock, "I—I... what?! Why?"

"Sothing about being her mate, not her jailor," Roan shrugs. "Whatever the case, it’s a win for everyone, I’d say. You fixin’ to join a harem, Orien?"

"I... that wouldn’t be so bad," Orien mutters, mostly to himself.

I sigh and roll my eyes, "It feels weird being the object of everyone’s affection, but I guess it isn’t the worst thing in the world. I think my harem will have to like each other, though, since I can’t have penetrative sex with them. Should I start gathering won, too?"

Roan nods pensively, "Hmm... maybe. I an, I think guys are great, but Ashen, for example, seems like the kind of dude who wouldn’t be into that."

"Isn’t it a bit... strange to talk about having... intercourse so casually?" Orien whispers, looking around to see if anyone has been listening to us. Fortunately for him, no one seems to have been paying attention to our conversation.

"Eh, why would it be strange?" I shrug. "It’s a natural thing, no? Also, nothing can be more embarrassing than having my first heat in the middle of an entire festival, so I think anything is fine at this point."

Orien makes a small, strangled sound like his soul just tried to leave his body. He’s staring between Roan and , like we’re aliens, unsure whether to run or hide.

Roan claps him on the shoulder, clearly proud. "There ya go. Exposure therapy."

"That’s not—" Orien starts, then falters. "That’s not what that is."

I laugh again. Despite the growing sense of unease that’s been weighing on since my dream, this interaction feels... easy, like my life didn’t get flipped upside down. Like I’m not a walking scandal covered in blood and bitemarks.

We reach the edge of the feast grounds, and the world opens up.

Torches line the wide field like fallen stars, their light flickering across long tables already packed with beasts and food and noise. Music pulses from sowhere near the center—drums, strings, sothing deep and rhythmic that settles right into my bones.

And then the sll hits .

Smoked ats. Honeyed breads. Roasted roots. Sothing rich and buttery, I can’t imdiately identify, but desperately want to eat with my hands.

My stomach growls loud enough that Orien jumps.

Roan grins at . "There she is."

"There I am," I correct, lifting my chin. "Champion’s gotta eat."

Orien smiles shyly beside , still pink in the face but standing a little straighter than he did before. It looks like he’s actively trying to look more confident and strong—I love it. He’s pretty attractive, with good posture and self-confidence.

I sling an arm around both of them without thinking and pull them forward like we’re a team of criminals. "C’mon. I’m still one of the guys."

Roan snorts, then looks at knowingly. "Just with boobs."

"Just with boobs," I confirm. "Very nice ones."

Roan nods in agreent, and all the confidence Orien just mustered starts to lt away—he looks like he might pass out from embarrassnt. Heheh... he’s so fucking adorable that it makes want to embarrass him more.

Poor thing has no idea what he’s getting himself into by getting affiliated with .

As we step fully into the torchlight, sothing settles in my chest. It’s a sense of comfort and belonging; of safety and strength. I don’t feel scared, not of the fact that everyone suddenly wants a piece of or that my strange prophetic dream makes feel like the apocalypse might be around the corner...

Because at the end of the day, I’m still Zoryn.

I just... have more people trying to court now.

I crack my knuckles and make a beeline for the food before anyone can stop .