《In the Evil Dragon's Eyes》


 Chapter 1

    The pain was intense, but my anger was worse.


    I collapsed to my knees, glaring at the man who stood over me. Five years. Five years of waiting to fully awaken as a dragon, to be able to transform, to have it all taken away in a few minutes. I had envisioned this moment countless times, but never like this. Not with my body broken, my body reverting to a weak human, and my vengeance slipping away like sand through my fingers. The cold steel of the prince¡¯s blade dripped with my blood, its glint catching in the firelight. My breathing was ragged, each inhale a battle, each exhale carrying the bitter taste of failure.


    The second evil dragon. That¡¯s what they had called me.


    And they weren¡¯t wrong. I was more than willing to burn the entire world to the ground, if it meant destroying the world that had killed my mother. That had taken her away from me because an entitled man thought it his right to take her life. I would not, could not forgive a world that had done that to me. To her.


    The prince looked down at me, his expression unreadable, but his eyes¡ªthose cursed, sorrowful eyes¡ªburned into me like a brand. I hated that look. Hated the pity in it. Hated the way it mirrored the helplessness I had felt the night my mother died. His grip on his sword was tight, knuckles white, but his stance wavered, as if some part of him regretted what he had done.


    I didn¡¯t care.


    I didn¡¯t care about his hesitation or the grief I saw in the crown princess¡¯s face as she knelt beside me. I didn¡¯t care about the way she reached out, as if she could comfort me, as if she thought I deserved comfort. Just as I hadn¡¯t care about all the people I had killed, all of the villages and towns I had razed to the ground. I had planned to work my way throughout the empire of Naera, to completely destroy the system that had allowed my mother to be taken.


    Even now, I wanted to spit in her face, to curse her and the prince for stopping me before I could even kill the man responsible for my mother¡¯s death. If I had been able to at least kill him, I would have died with some semblance of peace. But no¡ªfate, cruel and merciless, had denied me even that. My vision blurred, whether from blood loss or sheer fury, I couldn''t tell. The warmth of my own lifeblood pooled beneath me, soaking into the scorched earth. My body trembled, not in fear, but in frustration so overwhelming it nearly drowned out the pain.


    Five years. Five years of suppressing my rage, of clawing my way toward this moment, and it was all for nothing. Five years of biting my tongue, of waiting, of enduring the agony of being too weak, too human to do anything. Five years of lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, imagining the moment I would tear his throat out with my own fangs. I had sacrificed everything¡ªmy humanity, my name, my soul¡ªto see him die by my hand. And yet, here I was, crumpled at the feet of a man who didn''t even have the decency to look triumphant.


    The princess¡¯s fingers brushed against my hair, a whisper of touch so gentle, so achingly familiar, that my breath caught. The warmth of a soft hand, the quiet comfort of a motherly presence¡ªI had forgotten what it felt like. My chest tightened, the years of hatred warring with something softer, something I had buried beneath the weight of vengeance. The tears came unbidden, hot and bitter, slipping down my face as I closed my eyes. Not because I wanted to, not because I accepted this, but because the weight of it all¡ªthe pain, the exhaustion, the loss¡ªwas too much.


    My mother.


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    If I only could have just seen her one more time. If I could have held her hand, heard her voice, told her I loved her before she was stolen from me. I could feel the chill creeping in, the cold darkness of death overtaking me, but all I could think about was her. I wished I could see her smile again, to hear her call my name with the same warmth she always had, to feel the safety of her arms around me, even just once more.


    Just as the chill seemed to seep deep into my chest, I felt a gentle warmth on my face, like sunshine that breaks through the storm. A part of me wanted to turn away from that warmth, to claw my way back to the battlefield, to force the world to atone for what it had done to me. But it was then that I heard a soft voice, a voice filled with sorrow that I had not heard in years.


    ¡°Cyran. It¡¯s time, sweetheart.¡±


    I knew that voice. I knew it better than my own heartbeat and my breath hitched as I squeezed my eyes tighter. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I felt her hand in my hair, gently stroking the strands like she used to. Had my mother been waiting for me in the afterlife? Had I known that, I would have allowed myself to be killed sooner.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s hard, sweetie, but¡­ we have to let him go.¡±


    I could hear the tears in my mother¡¯s voice, and the warmth on my face lessened as I heard someone moving near me. My mother¡­ was never the type of woman to cry and I had only ever seen her cry once.


    At my father¡¯s funeral.


    I finally chanced opening my eyes, and the world around me blurred and shifted. The battlefield was gone. The scent of blood and fire, the weight of my broken body¡ªeverything vanished, replaced by something impossibly familiar. My breath caught as I found myself staring into my mother¡¯s tear-filled eyes.


    She was kneeling before me, wearing the same threadbare dress she had worn to my father¡¯s funeral, the fabric clinging to her as if it, too, carried the sorrow of that day. Her hair was pulled back in the same hurried bun she always did when she had too much to do, and her hands trembled as she reached out to me.


    I couldn¡¯t move.


    It had to be a dream. Some final cruel twist of fate before death claimed me entirely. But if it was a dream, then I never wanted it to end. Before I could stop myself, I threw myself into my mother¡¯s arms and it was then I realized I was smaller. I had been a few years into adulthood when I finally became a full dragon, and yet the arms that clung to my mother¡¯s neck were small and weak, nothing like the hands that had wielded destruction. My legs barely reached the ground as I pressed my face into her shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of her¡ªof home, of warmth, of safety. My breath hitched, and I clung to her tighter, as if she might vanish the moment I loosened my grip. My body shook with deep, ragged sobs, the kind I hadn¡¯t allowed myself in years.


    She was real. She was here.


    ¡°Mom,¡± I choked out, the word barely more than a whisper.Her arms tightened around me, and I felt her hand stroke my hair, the same way she had done when I was a child afraid of nightmares. I let myself sink into the sensation, the warmth of her embrace, the steady rhythm of her breathing. My chest ached, my heart pounding against my ribs as if trying to escape the impossible.


    ¡°Honey,¡± she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. ¡°I know. I know sweetie. I miss him too.¡±


    The way my mother¡¯s voice cracked broke my heart and I clung to her tighter. I hadn¡¯t understood back then, but this time, I understood the grief she was feeling. The grief of losing someone who was your entire world, the person who had been your anchor, your reason to keep moving forward. The grief that hollowed you out, leaving nothing but an aching wound that never truly healed.


    My mother¡¯s fingers trembled as she stroked my hair, and for the first time in years, I felt like a child again¡ªnot the monstrous thing that had burned cities, not the second evil dragon that the world had cursed, but simply a boy who had lost too much. I wanted to tell her everything, to spill out all of the rage, the pain, the emptiness I had felt since she had been taken from me. I wanted to tell her how much it had hurt, how much I had hated the world that had stolen her. I wanted her to understand that I had never stopped thinking about her, that every flame I had set was for her, for the justice that I had never been given.


    But all I could do was sob into her shoulder.

 Chapter 2

    I held my mother¡¯s hand tightly as the priest droned on, talking about the afterlife and how it was the job of the living to honor his memory. I could barely think about his words, just like the first time, but not because I couldn¡¯t understand then, but because my mind was elsewhere. My mother was alive, warm and breathing next to me.


    My eyes shifted to the people around us, members of my father¡¯s family and the few friends he had, their faces etched with grief and solemnity. I knew now that many of them would disappear from our lives in the coming months, their support dwindling as the weight of survival pulled them in different directions. Some would offer empty promises of aid while others would pretend we had never existed at all. A widow and her son had little value to those who had their own lives to worry about, especially for a village so far south.


    We barely lived in the borders of the Naeran Empire, the eternally frozen wastelands of Driria only a day¡¯s walk away from our little town. It meant that despite the occasional aid from the Marquess, our town was always struggling to get by. Without my father¡¯s income, my mother and I would be left to fend for ourselves in a town where survival was already a struggle. I knew exactly how that would play out¡ªhow she would take on whatever work she could, how she would smile and tell me everything would be fine, even when her hands bled and exhaustion lined her face. But winter was coming, and there would be no work for her to do.


    I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around my mother¡¯s fingers. She didn¡¯t notice. Her eyes were fixed on the priest, her face carefully composed, but I could feel the slight tremor in her hand, the way she held herself too still. I had never understood her grief before. I had been too young, too lost in my own sadness to realize how much she had suffered. But now, standing here once more, I could see it¡ªthe unbearable weight pressing down on her shoulders, the same weight I had carried for five years in my past life.


    I turned my gaze back to the priest, but I wasn¡¯t listening to his words. Instead, my mind raced, clawing at memories, trying to piece together the fragments of what came next. My tenth birthday had just passed, which meant I had less than a year before my dragon abilities began to manifest. It would start with my eyes; when my emotions run too high, my eyes will change to a brilliant shade of gold, glimmering like two molten puddles. It would be shortly after that my horns would start to manifest and it was then that my mother could no longer hide what I was.


    I clenched my jaw, forcing down the surge of anger that rose in my chest. I had been too young to understand the Marquess¡¯s interest then, too na?ve to question why a noble of his standing would suddenly offer my mother work in his estate. She had been grateful¡ªrelieved, even¡ªthinking it was an act of kindness. But now, with the weight of my past life pressing against my mind, I saw it for what it was.


    Marquess Blackwood had known exactly what I was before I did. He had seen my dragon blood as an opportunity, a weapon he could forge and wield for his own ambitions. We had been blind to it all until it was too late. By the time I understood his intentions, my mother was already ensnared in his household, trapped beneath his control. And in the end, it had cost her life.


    Not this time.


    I glanced at my mother again, watching as she stared down at the soft grass beneath our feet. It was a fever that had taken my father, a fever brought on by his foolish choice to work despite the winter storm. My mother tried, but he didn¡¯t make it more than a few days into summer before his body gave out. I remember the morning, the clatter of the bowl as it bounced off the floor, spilling soup that no longer had anyone to drink it. The way my mother had frozen, her breath hitching as she realized he had stopped breathing. The silence that had followed was heavier than anything I had ever known. A silence that stretched through the days that followed, through the funeral, through the long nights where my mother sat by the dying embers of the fire, staring at nothing.


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    The priest finally finished speaking, signaling the end of the ceremony. The people around us began to murmur soft words of condolence, offering my mother hollow reassurances that they would be there for her. I knew the truth. Their words meant nothing. They would help for a time, but soon, they would forget us. They would turn away when my mother needed them most.


    She turned to me, her grip tightening on my hand as she forced a small smile. ¡°Are you ready to go home, sweetheart?¡±


    I nodded, but I had no intention of going home. My chest ached as I looked at her, at the exhaustion in her eyes, at the quiet strength she carried even now. She had given up everything for me, had fought for me, had worked herself to the bone just to keep us afloat. I swallowed hard and turned away, stepping back as my mother turned to speak to one of my father¡¯s cousins. I let go of her hand, took a deep breath¡­


    And I ran.


    I tore through the tall grass that surrounded our town, the familiar landscape blurring past me as I pushed myself forward. My breath came in ragged gasps, my legs burning with exertion, but I didn¡¯t stop. I knew the way to Driria, had been a few times with my father when he went to trade with one of the villages. If I crossed into Driria, my mother would have to give up on me, and no one would dare venture there to look for me. They would assume me dead, and I would be able to protect her from afar. No one would learn I was a Draconid, and the Marquess would never set eyes on my mother.


    The tall grass beat against my face, and I cursed my smaller legs as they struggled to carry me fast enough. My breath hitched as my chest tightened, but I forced myself forward, ignoring the stitch in my side. The cool wind bit at my skin, the scent of damp earth filling my nose as I sprinted away from the village, away from my mother, away from the fate I refused to repeat.


    My foot caught on a loose root, and I stumbled, barely catching myself before I hit the ground. Gritting my teeth, I pushed forward, weaving through the dense grass, my breath ragged, my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear my mother calling after me, chasing me into the grass, and I wanted to scream for her to stop. All she had to do was let me go, and she could be safe.


    Tears stung in my eyes again, and I closed them, doing my best to wipe them away as I pushed forward, forcing my legs to keep moving. If I let her catch me, if I let her bring me back, then everything would happen just as it had before. The Marquess would notice me, my mother would take that cursed job in his household and eventually, she would die because of it.


    The tall grass whipped against my face, the damp earth shifting beneath my feet as I ran. My lungs burned, my breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps, but I didn¡¯t slow down. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the landscape, and I could hear my mother¡¯s voice growing fainter behind me. My heart ached, but I forced myself to keep going. It was better this way.


    And then I hit something¡ªsomeone.


    The impact sent me stumbling backward, my momentum slamming me onto the ground. Pain shot through my back as I landed hard, the breath knocked from my lungs as I sprawled against the damp earth. My vision blurred for a moment, the shock of the impact rattling through my small frame. I blinked rapidly, shaking my head to clear it before I scrambled onto my elbows, ready to push myself up and keep running.


    ¡°A little late to be playing.¡±


    I froze, my blood running cold as the voice washed over me like ice water. It was a man¡¯s voice, but it was a voice I knew I could never forget. It was calm, quiet, and yet it carried the weight of command, of someone who was used to being obeyed.


    My hands balled into fists before I could stop myself, my rage causing my body to shake while I fought not to look up. To not let him see the hatred and anger on my young face as I forced myself to breathe. My mind screamed at me to run, to push past him and keep going, but my body refused to move. It was as if the weight of five years of hatred, of vengeance, of death itself had suddenly settled back onto my small shoulders, pressing me into the earth.


    I didn¡¯t need to look up to see who it was. It was the same man who stopped my rampage, who stopped the rampage of the first evil dragon.


    The Crown Prince of Naera.

 Chapter 3

    ¡°Cyran!¡±


    I flinched as I heard my mother¡¯s voice, my mind racing as I struggled to decide what to do. The crown prince didn¡¯t know me yet, didn¡¯t know I was a Draconid. I wasn¡¯t the second evil dragon yet.


    ¡°Cyran! Where are you!¡±


    ¡°I believe he is here.¡± The prince¡¯s voice answered my mother¡¯s call and I finally stood, finding the strength to try and keep running. I couldn¡¯t stay with her, it didn¡¯t matter how much it hurt. How much my heart twisted hearing the pain in her voice. If I stayed, the Marquess would take notice of us, and she would die.


    I attempted to run past the prince, but he grabbed me easily, his grip completely encompassing my small arms. I cursed my size as I tried to escape his grasp. I couldn¡¯t let him stop me, couldn¡¯t let him¨C


    ¡°Caspian, what are you doing?¡± Another voice joined us, and I looked up to see the crown princess walking toward us. At the same time, my mother came into view and I fought to free myself. ¡°Caspian¨C¡±


    ¡°Cyran!¡± My mother quickly wrapped her arms around me and I continued to struggle, tears running down my face as Caspian finally let me go. I couldn¡¯t stay. I couldn¡¯t watch her die again. ¡°Cyran, honey calm down, please.¡±


    ¡°Can we ask what is happening?¡± the princess spoke again and I felt my mother start to shake, quickly bowing her head as she held me tightly against her. It was obvious she recognized them instantly, and while I did as well, I wasn¡¯t supposed to be able to.


    ¡°Your Highness, I¡ªI apologize for the trouble,¡± she said, her voice tight. The grief and exhaustion was obvious in her voice and I finally stopped struggling, feeling awful for putting more on my mother.¡±"My son¡­ his father has just passed, and he¡¯s struggling to¨C¡±


    ¡°I have to go,¡± I sobbed, my voice raw with desperation as I did my best to sound as desperate as I felt. ¡°If I stay, you''ll die too!¡±


    I could feel the way she trembled, how tightly she held me, as if afraid I would disappear the moment she loosened her grip. I wanted to cling to her, to bury my face in her shoulder and pretend that none of this was happening, but I forced myself to push away. I had to leave her. If I stayed, if I let things happen the way they had before, she would die.


    ¡°Cyran, sweetheart, don''t say¨C¡±


    ¡°Why do you think that, little one?¡± I glanced up as the crown princess spoke, kneeling down to keep my gaze. I could tell that the crown prince, Caspian I guessed, didn¡¯t approve, but he also didn¡¯t say anything as the princess continued, her voice gentle in a way that made my chest ache. I sniffled, staring at her with wide, tear-filled eyes, doing my best to seem like a terrified and overwhelmed child. ¡°Why do you think your mother will die if you stay?¡±


    ¡°Because I''m not normal,¡± I whispered. ¡°I''m not like the other kids.¡±


    My mother took a sharp inhale and I felt her tense behind me, her arms tightening instinctively, as if she could somehow keep the words from spilling out of my mouth. But if she wasn¡¯t going to let me run, let me leave, then I had to do something, anything so that I would not be around her. If I could convince the crown prince I was dangerous, then they would have no choice but to take me away from my mother.


    ¡°Sweetheart, don''t¨C¡± my mother started, her voice wavering, but I barreled on, my tears thick in my throat as I pretended to be nothing more than a scared, rambling child.


    ¡°I can run faster than the other kids,¡± I sniffled, my voice trembling as I looked at the princess, watching as her brows furrowed in concern. ¡°I never get cold, even when it''s snowing. And I can smell things no one else can. If someone finds out, there¡¯s no one to protect my ma now that my pa is gone!¡±


    I didn¡¯t hold back as I cried more, forcing the tears as I started to pull from my mother again. All those times having to pretend to cry at the marquess¡¯s estate were finally paying off, and I still remembered exactly how to squeeze my eyes to force tears. I heard as the princess sighed and I chanced opening my eyes to see the princess glancing back at Caspian. They must have had a whole conversation in that look, because Caspian shook his head, turning away as the princess turned back to smile at me.


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    ¡°Do you know who I am?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I answered, shaking my head. I knew she was the crown princess but it wasn¡¯t like I knew her name.


    ¡°Well, my name is Princess Isadora,¡± she spoke gently, her silver eyes meeting mine as I continued to sniffle. My eyes were starting to hurt from all the forced crying, and I watched as she lifted a delicate hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ¡°And I think you¡¯re very brave, Cyran.¡±


    I blinked up at her, sniffling as I let my gaze dart between her and my mother. Brave? No, bravery had nothing to do with this. I was merely doing what I had to do, what I failed to do the first time because I had been too stupid, too childish to think or see otherwise.. But I stayed silent, my shoulders trembling as I waited to see what she would say next.


    Isadora sighed, then looked toward my mother. ¡°You said his father just passed?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Highness,¡± my mother answered quickly, her voice respectful but strained. She smoothed a hand down my back, trying to calm me, but I could feel the slight tremor in her touch. ¡°We buried him today.¡±


    ¡°Cyran,¡± Isadora¡¯s expression softened, and though I wanted to believe it was just an act, something about it felt too genuine, too much like the look she had given me when I lay dying. ¡°I understand that you¡¯re scared. But¡­ Do you really want to leave your mother?¡±


    I hesitated. If I said yes, my mother would be heartbroken, and I had already hurt her enough considering the day. But if I said no, she would take that as a reason to keep me here and the princess might tell me to go home with her. I bit my lip, shifting my weight from foot to foot as I stared at the ground.


    Slowly, I shook my head. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then can I offer another option? One that doesn¡¯t hurt you or your mother?¡± Her gentle voice made me nod before I could stop myself, and I regretted it the moment I did. I had already given her control of the situation, and whatever she suggested, I would have to weigh my options carefully. ¡°How about you and your mother come live at my house? Your mother could work there, and you wouldn¡¯t have to be apart from her. I¡¯d keep you both safe.¡±


    My breath hitched, my mind reeling as I processed her words. The palace? My mother, working for the royal family? I turned to look at my mother, watching as her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly in surprise. She hadn¡¯t expected it either. Her grip on my shoulders tightened briefly before she turned her gaze back to the princess, her expression wary.


    ¡°Your Highness, that is¡­ an incredibly generous offer, but I¡ª¡±


    ¡°If your son truly is special, then I need to keep an eye on him,¡± Isadora interrupted with a soft shake of her head. I felt my anger flare, but I struggled to squash it down. I was the one who had tried to make myself sound dangerous. ¡°We could use more staff, and given your situation, it would provide stability for you and your son while allowing me to do my duty as Crown Princess.¡±


    Isadora¡¯s words seemed to hang in the air between us, their weight settling heavily on my mother¡¯s shoulders. I could see the conflict in her eyes, the way her fingers trembled slightly against my back. My mother knew life would be hard if we stayed, and it was obvious she didn¡¯t want to leave the only home she had known. But this wasn¡¯t just an offer of kindness¡ªit was a lifeline. A chance to escape the inevitable suffering that awaited us if we stayed here. A chance to keep her safe.


    I clenched my fists, my mind racing. The Marquess wouldn¡¯t be able to sink his claws into my mother if she was under the direct protection of the royal family. But accepting meant putting myself directly into their hands, letting them see me, observe me, figure out what I was before I could fully understand my own power. It was a risk, but it was one I had to take for now.


    ¡°I¡­¡± My voice wavered, and I forced myself to look up at Isadora, meeting her silver eyes. ¡°If we go¡­ you have to promise me something.¡±


    ¡°Anything, Cyran.¡±


    ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll protect my ma. No matter what.¡± I kept my voice small, but I made sure to speak with conviction. To my surprise, she held out her hand, extending her pinkie toward me.


    ¡°You have my word as Crown Princess, Cyran. I won¡¯t allow any harm to come to your mother.¡±


    I blinked, caught completely off guard by the ridiculousness of it. A pinkie promise? For a moment, I wondered if she was mocking me, if this was some sort of elaborate trick to make me lower my guard. But I was a child, even if I was ten, and she was trying to connect in a way a child would. I slowly extended my hand, closing my eyes so that she wouldn¡¯t see how stupid I found all of this.


    ¡°Okay.¡± I whispered, letting my hand drop, and turning to my mother. Her expression was unreadable, but I could see the way she studied me, searching my face for something. After a long pause, she let out a soft breath and nodded.


    ¡°Thank you, your Highness. I will do my best to serve you.¡±


    ¡°Then let us be on our way. Our camp is a little ways from here, but you two can ride in the carriage with me.¡± Isadora finally stood and I took my mother¡¯s hand as Caspian started to lead us away. I¡¯m sure my mother was hurt and upset that we were leaving before she could finish saying goodbye to my father, but I knew this was for the best.


    The sooner we got away the better, and I squeezed her hand in mine.

 Chapter 4

    ***


    Isadora glanced at the young boy as he slept in his mother¡¯s lap, her hand resting gently in his hair as she leaned against the pole. She had tried to offer them a tent, but Cyran had thrown a fit while his mother explained he was terrified of enclosed space.


    ¡°What are you thinking, Isa?¡±


    Isadora turned as Caspian approached, accepting his hand as he stood next to her. She took a deep breath, returning her gaze to the mother and child in front of her.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t he remind you of someone?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°He does to me,¡± Isadora whispered, her voice lowering as she squeezed her husband''s hand. ¡°Those green eyes, the way he played up his crying¡­ he¡¯s way smarter and aware that he acts like. I don¡¯t think his mother realizes yet.¡±


    ¡°So you knew he was lying and accepted him anyway?¡± Caspian accused, but Isadora shook her head, looking up at him with a quiet determination in her silver eyes.


    ¡°No, I accepted him because of what I saw in him. He¡¯s still a child, Caspian. A grieving, desperate child who believes he has to lie to survive.¡± She turned her gaze back to the sleeping boy, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. His mother held him tightly even in sleep, as if afraid he would vanish from her arms the moment she let go. Isadora¡¯s heart ached at the sight.


    ¡°You¡¯re too soft,¡± he muttered, but there was no real bite to the words. If anything, there was a hint of something else¡ªresignation, perhaps even understanding. Caspian exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. ¡°We don¡¯t know what he is.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Isadora agreed, but she didn¡¯t look away from the child curled in his mother¡¯s arms. ¡°But he thought running away was his only option, Caspian. That tells me everything I need to know about the life he¡¯s lived so far.¡±


    Caspian said nothing, but Isadora had been with him long enough to know what that meant. He was considering her point and judging in his mind how much he agreed with her. Caspian was none for slaying Kapral, the first evil dragon, but no one knew how much the decision ate him than Isadora.


    ¡°I just want to do what I can. If the boy is part beast, then it''s safer to keep him where he can¡¯t harm others and where no one will harm him or his mother because of what he is,¡± Isadora clarified, carefully lifting her free hand to caress her husband¡¯s face. Caspian closed his eyes, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at her touch. He sighed, leaning into her hand for just a moment before pulling away, his gaze sharp as it flickered back toward Cyran.


    ¡°At least try to get the truth before we have to explain to your parents.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± Isadora agreed, and she accepted the kiss on her forehead as Caspian turned to walk away. The boy stirred slightly, nestling further into the crook of his mother¡¯s arm. Isadora bit her lip, her heart twisting in her chest with a pain that refused to fade. She had seen that expression before; that desperate, determined look to overcome the odds.


    Things had to be different this time.


    ***


    The carriage rocked gently, the sound of hooves striking the dirt road a steady rhythm beneath them. I sat beside my mother, watching Isadora carefully from the opposite seat. Caspian was outside with the other knights, giving up his seat so we could ride instead. He had been courteous enough to help my mother inside, but I had refused his hand. Even if he didn¡¯t mean to harm me this time, I couldn¡¯t let go of my anger.


    Isadora hadn¡¯t said much since waking us up, simply offering my mother a different dress to wear instead of the one she had worn to my father¡¯s funeral. My mother had hesitated before accepting, running her fingers over the fabric as if afraid it would vanish the moment she touched it. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was from pride or simple disbelief, but eventually, she had taken the dress and changed before we departed.


    Now, we sat in silence, the only sounds were the soft creaking of the carriage wheels and the occasional snort from the horses outside. My mother looked tense, her hands folded neatly in her lap, but I could see the way she gripped the fabric of her borrowed dress, the way her shoulders were set just a little too stiffly. She wasn¡¯t used to this, to being surrounded by nobility, let alone sitting in a carriage with the crown princess of the empire.


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    ¡°I realize I never asked your name,¡± Isadora finally broke the silence, smiling politely at my mother as she folded her hands neatly in her lap. ¡°I apologize for making you agree to such a decision before asking your name.¡±


    ¡®Because she¡¯s an afterthought.¡¯ I snorted, not daring to speak out loud. I didn¡¯t doubt that Isadora would try to keep her promise to protect my mother, but it was clear who they were truly interested in. My mother bowed her head, squeezing her hands in her lap.


    ¡°My name is Linota, your Highness.¡±


    ¡°Just Linota?¡±


    ¡°Linota Osin, your Highness.¡± My mother clarified, and I struggled not to roll my eyes. This was all for show, to help Isadora frame her story so she could explain to her parents why she had brought us along. I wasn¡¯t na?ve enough to believe she had done this purely out of kindness¡ªthere was always an angle with nobles, a reason behind their actions, whether spoken or not. Isadora seemed kind, but I knew better than to trust that kindness at face value.


    Isadora nodded, her silver eyes studying my mother with something that almost resembled curiosity. ¡°Linota, then. Thank you for trusting me enough to come with us. I know it wasn¡¯t an easy decision.¡±


    ¡°It was hardly an offer I could refuse, your Highness,¡± my mother answered and I struggled to suppress the immediate anger I felt. That was the exact same answer she had given Marquess Blackwood when he took us in, and I hated hearing it again. It wasn¡¯t an offer¡ªit was a necessity. A gamble. One we had no choice but to take.


    ¡°That may be true, but I do hope, in time, you¡¯ll feel more secure in the decision.¡± Isadora didn¡¯t flinch at my mother¡¯s response, only tilting her head slightly, as if weighing her next words. ¡°From what your son said, he seems to be very special. When did you first notice that he was different?¡±


    My mother¡¯s fingers twitched in her lap. I could see the way she hesitated, the flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. It was one of the tells I had learned in my past life for when my mother didn¡¯t like a question and was about to give a half-truth. It was a tell I only noticed when I had tried asking her why I was different and what was happening to me, and I was never able to get a straight answer before she died.


    ¡°My husband and I¡­ got lost in Driria,¡± she began carefully, her voice even but tense. ¡°It was during the winter, and I was with Cyran at the time. We didn¡¯t have much food, and the storm had stranded us far from the main roads.¡±


    ¡°That must have been very stressful, especially since you were with child.¡±


    ¡°It was, your Highness,¡± my mother confirmed, accepting the princess¡¯s words before continuing. ¡°The cold was unbearable, and we were both exhausted. I was weak from hunger, and my husband was desperate to find anything to sustain us. That was when we stumbled upon¡­ something in the snow.¡±


    I struggled not to frown, looking up to see my mother¡¯s expression. There was a hard look in her eyes, as if she was forcing herself to relive the memory. This part I knew well enough to know it was true; my father would always tell me to be careful in Driria, especially in the winter, because of how he and my mother had gotten lost while she was carrying me.


    ¡°We found a body,¡± she continued, her voice steady but lacking the rawness of true recollection. ¡°It was frozen solid, but the meat didn¡¯t seem rotten. My husband cut away enough for us to eat, cooked it over what little fire we could manage, and fed me first, knowing I needed it more. It was enough to keep us going until we found our way back.¡±


    Isadora hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head as she studied my mother. ¡°And you don¡¯t know what kind of creature it was?¡±


    ¡°No, Your Highness,¡± she answered smoothly, but I could see the stiffness in her posture. ¡°In that moment, all that mattered was survival.¡±


    The lie. My mother may not have known at the time, but I knew she was aware I was a Draconid. Had I been part frost spirit or part Myrmidon, I would have died during my first summer, since those creatures can¡¯t survive outside of the cold. And even if she hadn¡¯t been certain, the presence of the crown prince and princess would have confirmed it. There was only one reason for the Imperial family to be visiting the Dririathin border.


    And that was to check on the evil dragon¡¯s corpse.


    ¡°Ma,¡± I pulled on my mother¡¯s sleeve, doing my best to look as innocent as possible while staring up at her with wide, curious eyes. ¡°If you ate a magic creature while I was in your stomach, does that make me magic too?¡±


    My mother¡¯s breath hitched, her fingers tightening in her lap as she turned toward me, her expression carefully schooled into something neutral. But I saw the flicker of panic in her eyes¡ªthe same look she had given me when my horns had started to grow in my past life, when she had realized I was changing in ways she couldn¡¯t understand or protect me from. She wasn¡¯t ready for this conversation, not now, not ever.


    ¡°Sweetheart, don¡¯t be silly,¡± she said quickly, brushing her fingers through my hair in an attempt to redirect my attention. ¡°That¡¯s not how things work.¡±


    ¡°Still, I think it would be wise to have you both examined,¡± Isadora interrupted, her expression one of concern and understanding. ¡°I see you get your bravery from your mother, Cyran.¡±


    ¡°My ma¡¯s the best!¡± I proudly exclaimed, beaming brightly as I managed to make both women chuckle. There was no reason to make the princess concerned yet, and the truth would come out in a year anyway. It was better to play the innocent boy and learn what I could about the Imperial¡¯s family intentions.


    ¡°The best in the world!¡±