ã€ŠThrone of the Dragon Queenã€‹


 The Divine Mortal

    Alone. Madelena¡¯s heart ached only half as much as her throat between pained screams and agonizing contractions, stronger by the minute. Her teeth gnashed, and her fingers tightened on the pillow. And she was alone. She had been for months, dressed head to toe in mourning black. Her eyes cinched shut, trying to cast out the fleeting memories of her husband, her boys, who hadn¡¯t survived the crash and the bits of frame from that fateful shit carried home as the only remains she would ever hold.

    Sweat soaked the sheets, mixing with the blood pooling beneath her, but no midwife came to wipe her brow. Only the hollow ache of an empty room and the faint flickering of the candlelight offered comfort as her body urged her to push. Sharp rakes of pain clawed their way down her sides and through her thighs, her head spinning dizzy from the burning it brought on. Between frantic gasps, she searched the room, barely able to make sense of the flash and fade of the light. Something was wrong.

    It had been a while since she¡¯d delivered a child, but each one had been easier than the last. Each one had felt nearly the same. This one, though, from the moment she felt the first kick, was different. This child had a hold on her that Madelena couldn¡¯t explain and drew in the attention of every subject in the Styxin Empire as if they¡¯d been commanded to notice. Her hand clutched her stomach, silently begging for relief only because she couldn¡¯t find her voice to speak. She was dying.

    Madelena could feel it, the way the weight of the world slipped from her fingers, the way her breath thinned into the cold hush of death. This was not how it was supposed to be, this baby was not to be born alone. She had prayed for a daughter, for a legacy, and Deloxus, the god of her people, came to her and promised her one. He ensured she would bear a daughter, and she dutifully carried the baby even in her mourning. And now the gods, cruel in their irony, decided they would take her away before she could even hold the child. This was not the legacy her people deserved¡­

    A shadow flickered at the edge of the candlelight. The room cooled, the wind stilling as the air thickened with something ancient and unseen. The air churned and melted away, lighting the space between Madelena and the end of the bed. There, a woman appeared, draped in a gown of shifting daylight, her eyes glowing with the golden fire of a dying sun.

    Ahalexis. The Mother Goddess of the Styxin smiled gently at the woman she saw as her chosen daughter. Every queen of Styxis was a daughter of Ahalexis, and worshiped their Mother in hopes of bearing a daughter in her image, blessed with a greater magic than their own. After all, Ahalexis had given magic to the world in the first place, weaving it into the very bones of the Tandor people and raising Styxis from the sea to shelter them. Their magic was a pact between the people and the gods, and the balance between all people in the world. The Styxin were divine. And Ahalexis had appeared before Madelena.

    It should have been a comfort to see her now, to know that she was not alone in her final moments. But Ahalexis was smiling turned to a pained frown as she took note of the blood on the floor and the shaking of Madelena¡¯s weak legs. The delivery wasn¡¯t progressing, and she was suffering. What mother ever wanted for her daughter to suffer?

    ¡°Madelena,¡± the goddess murmured, her voice silk and smoke. ¡°Poor, darling girl. Did you really think you could birth a god¡¯s child and survive?¡±

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    Madelena¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°She is¡ª¡±

    ¡°The child of my brother, Deloxus, is she not?¡± Ahalexis said, stepping closer, pressing a cool hand against Madelena¡¯s sweat-slick brow. ¡°Be still now, daughter, it is nearly over, and she will cast your husk aside.¡±

    Tears burned at the corners of Madelena¡¯s eyes. ¡°Please¡­ You have to do something,¡± her thin voice rasped, dry lips quivering. ¡°She needs me. I will die for her.¡±

    Ahalexis hummed, brushing the damp brown hair from Madelena¡¯s face with something like tenderness. ¡°Oh, I know, child. But her future is greater than all yours could have ever been.¡± She crouched beside the bed, her golden gaze burning into Madelena¡¯s. ¡°Give her to me, and you will live. A chance to love again. A chance to be free from what Deloxus has done to you.¡±

    A lie.

    Madelena knew it in her bones, knew it in the way the goddess¡¯s fingers curled possessively against her skin. But she wanted to believe. She wanted to live. Most importantly, she wanted her daughter to survive. If she died there, alone in her room, it would be hours before anyone would come, and the baby would starve. What choice did she have?

    And so she whispered, ¡°Give her all the stars in the night sky and endless days¡­¡±

    Ahalexis¡¯s eyes flicked up, a smile cresting on her lips as she looked through the room. ¡°Her promised prince awaits her; even now, he is coming to her.¡±

    Madelena groaned as another contraction came. ¡°Please, save her.¡±

    Ahalexis¡¯s smile sharpened, and the room darkened as her hands pressed against Madelena¡¯s belly. The pain vanished in an instant, a hollow absence where there had once been life. And then¡ª

    Silence.

    Madelena gasped as her body convulsed one last time, but the child was gone. No wail of a newborn, no warmth against her chest. Only Ahalexis, standing before the dying fire, cradling her newly swollen stomach with a pleased hum running over her lips.

    ¡°She was never yours,¡± the goddess whispered, then waved a hand, casting a powerful magic over the queen. In a faint flash, no more than a crackling fireplace set alight, the once laboring woman vanished.

    Madelena would not remember this night. Soon, she would wake in the forests of Edithir, drawn to the forbidden springs, and think herself fortunate to have been brought to a place so holy that the water glowed with radiant magic. She would wade in, soak in the warmth of her people¡¯s ancient gift, and slide beneath the surface. Any other day, any other life, she would have been cleansed by the water, freed of her pains, but as Ahalexis stood in the queen¡¯s chamber, breathing through the first contraction of many, she smiled venomously. Madelena would not remember because when she claimed the baby, she claimed every memory attached to her.

    The days of being queen, of Styxis, of magic itself having ever coursed her veins. Those were blessings that belonged to the baby. And now they were Ahalexis¡¯s as if the child had truly always been her own. She stroked her stomach as the ripples of pain, hardly anything for a goddess, ran down and urged the child to birth. It was generous of her to give life to a daughter, even if it had to be stolen from the other. Madelena, she reasoned, would soon come up from the water and make her way to the reeds and flowers where her hands would brush the petals of the ancient flowers¡ªthe erebus blossoms, the widow makers. Death would claim her, and the king she had once rejected to marry the duke she had betrayed would find her. And Deloxus would never again have the pleasures of his mortal lover.

    Revenge was too delicious, Ahalexis thought as she bowed forward as the contractions came nearly on top of one another. The world would believe the Queen of Styxis had died in childbirth, cast aside in the righteous waters of a spring by a jealous king. And in her place, a new queen was born¡ªone who belonged to the gods. And fulfill at last the Promise of Tandor.

 Legacy of Duty

    Some days, the halls felt especially empty. Haros, though young, felt the weight of the world pressing against him with every step he took from the moment he came down the grand staircase in the royal family¡¯s private wing. At ten years old, there was still laughter to be had, games to be played, and fleeting glances from girls like Amberese¡ªperfect in her round eyes, rosy smile, rich dark skin, and that flowery smell in all her close¡ªto tease the heart. But each glance, each moment of stolen joy, was always tethered to something darker. Duty. The Legacy. The crown that loomed on the horizon like a storm. And even worse, the dragon he was meant to inherit too soon that would rob him of himself the way it did his father, and his father¡¯s father, and every other successor of the throne who¡¯d carried the divine burden of being chosen.

    It wasn¡¯t as if he had a choice in the matter, the gods had written his fate long before he had any idea that a choice might have once existed. Haros was supposed to be the future of Edithir, the eldest son, the one destined to carry the mighty dragon, the wyrm that had shaped his family¡¯s name. Yet, he was small for his age, reckless in his pursuits, and far more interested in the wild thrill of adventure than the political machinations that his father and tutors endlessly droned on about.

    ¡®You will be king one day, you must know this,¡¯ they said, urging him to focus on his studies, molding him to some perfect image they¡¯d decided on for him. But Haros wasn¡¯t who they wanted. Not really. It was his younger brother, Lazroth, who seemed to have the world in his hands.

    It was a bit ironic. He¡¯d, for a moment, died when he was born and should have been the one who was seen as failing, but Lazroth survived. Calm, intelligent, and endlessly adored by their people, he was the prince every subject wished for and deserved. Haros, on the other hand, was the one who had been teased for his size and lack of seriousness by his peers and ridiculed by every adult whose keen eye watched him wander astray from the path to the throne. But that never bothered him as much as it should, the world casting doubt on him and favoring his brother. After all, Lazroth would have been a great king. If only he¡¯d had the sense to be born first. Not on some moonless night, overshadowed by the drowning of the Styxin queen in their forests. It was a bad omen from the start.

    Better days came, though, after the mourning period he hardly remembered. The sounds of laughter echoed through the halls as Haros and his friends raced across the courtyard. Danren, ever the faithful and endlessly loyal companion, chased after him, laughing at the way Haros skidded on the stone, his feet betraying his balance. But it was Yvin¡¯s teasing voice that caught his attention as they slowed to a stop. He elbowed Danren in the ribs, making sure he was paying attention instead of letting his mind wander off to some romantic daydream about the girl he was sure was his destined future.

    ¡°Haros,¡± she called, a wicked grin on her perfectly pink lips. ¡°You¡¯re spending too much time with Amberese. You¡¯ve forgotten how to be a king.¡±

    Haros smirked, brushing a hand through his messy, raven black hair. ¡°I¡¯m not a king yet, Yvin.¡±

    ¡°You might as well be; your dad¡¯s been laid up with the sickness for months. Just wait until you¡¯re summoned to the Priestesses, Haros. They¡¯ll pick your future partner for you, and wham! They¡¯ll make you a dragon the next day.¡±

    ¡°That only happened in Raioben because the king was so old, Yvin.¡± Danren rolled his eyes. There was a formality to these things, and children as young as Haros were rarely the subject of inheritance of full dragons unless necessary. And in the case of the Raioben prince, it had been just that. No one was pleased by it, and the acceptance period had lasted a great deal of time and nearly killed him, but the king could no longer hold their dragon, and the passage was forced early. If it had not been for the partnered Priestess, the Raioben prince would have surely died, and thus highlighted further how necessary the bond was¡ªthe era of dragon bonds strengthened and fewer rebelled against the order that any dragon must be partnered. And there were fewer premature deaths for it.

    Haros, at the mention of the Priestesses, those ancient women who oversaw the destinies of the dragon, felt a shiver run like silver down his spine. The aristocrats and nobles his parents hosted had already begun to whisper about the ¡°chosen¡± girls who might suit him. At ten, he was hardly interested in the idea of someone picking his life partner and deciding his future for him. He had his own ideas, and none of them involved the choices the Priestesses were about to present. None of them involved the Legacy.

    Yet when the summons came, Haros couldn¡¯t bring himself to refuse and disappoint his parents more than he already had when he was caught stealing from the local baker. Could he have paid for the sweets? Probably, but that wouldn¡¯t have impressed his friends. Not that being caught stealing an apple pie had, either, but he¡¯d tried. Besides, Lazroth would have been delighted to go in his place, no doubt, and be the perfect son, the perfect prince, everyone expected. But Haros was the one who would bear the Legacy, the one who would take on the crown one day¡ªwhether he liked it or not.

    He paused a moment in the emptiness of the corridor leading into the temple. The old Styxin language was carved all around beautiful stone murals and sculptures on tall pillars. He knew some of the language, the bits that Yvin had taught him and Danren had insisted he know if they were to continue to be friends¡ªboth were of Styxin decent and knowing the old tongue mattered to them¡ªand for what it was worth, he could make out bits and pieces of what it said. It was a strange, confusing language. Haros sighed, forgoing any further translation, and pushed through the temple doors.

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    Lost in the vast halls of polished marble and dim candlelight, surrounded by cloaked women who whispered in hushed voices, watching him with unreadable eyes, he tried his best to seem unconcerned, though he knew they saw through him. His heart raced¡ªnot from fear, but from the deep, suffocating pressure that always followed the mention of his future. The priestess gathered together, chattering about this going here and that going there, about the ceremony to come, and making sure their gods were appeased. Haros leaned on his toes, peeking around the robed women at the foods they¡¯d gathered and the ornate decorations meant to symbolize their faith, but as he was about to decide whether or not it was worth asking if he could have a snack, something caught his attention.

    There, in the corner, stood a girl who didn¡¯t belong. She wasn¡¯t part of the circle of Priestesses, and she didn¡¯t don the robes of any acolyte he¡¯d have to choose from. She was too young, too wild, her brown, mousy hair tousled like she had just run from something. Haros blinked. Was she even supposed to be here?

    Her dark eyes met his, lips parting as if she too was surprised. There was a flash of recognition, something familiar in the slight upturn of her lips, but he couldn¡¯t place it. She stood straighter, sucking in a breath, and for the first time in a long while, Haros felt his heart beat faster¡ªnot from duty, but from something else. Something¡­ forbidden.

    Without thinking, he skirted the women in their robes and table of enticing treats. A tremble danced from his spine to his fingers as he pressed his back to the wall and slid closer, pretending as though he was doing nothing more than getting out of the way. He glanced over at her as she looked down, picking at her fingers, smiling to herself. She knew he was there and had every intention to talk to her. It wasn¡¯t as though he¡¯d mastered any amount of subtlety.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked, stepping closer, curiosity and excitement bubbling within him.

    She looked over, her lips turning to a modest grin, a playful glint in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m just a servant, trying to avoid the chaos. And you¡¯re¡­ here for the ceremony?¡±

    ¡°Something like that,¡± Haros laughed, not taking her seriously. ¡°I guess you could say I¡¯m the guest being honored.¡±

    The girl raised an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she shrugged. ¡°We all have duties, don¡¯t we? You, the future king. Me, this.¡± She gestured vaguely at the room. ¡°At least we¡¯re not alone in that, hm?¡±

    Her words hung between them, heavier than they should have been. Haros stared at her, long and quiet, and then he felt his heart thump hard against his ribs. Once, twice, and then back to normal. His palms grew tacky as a smile began to form along his lips, and words jumbled and caught in his throat. It was a strange and wonderful thrill that coiled through him as she giggled and rolled her eyes. Maybe, if one of the priestesses were like her, it wouldn¡¯t be so bad having a lifelong partner.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± He asked, his voice cracking unexpectedly.

    ¡°Mira,¡± she answered.

    ¡°Oh,¡± he looked away, searching the floor. Mira. That was easy enough to remember. It was the most common name in the entire Styxin empire. Hell, even in G¡¯hein he¡¯d met at least a dozen that summer. ¡°Mira,¡± he said, looking at her again, ¡°I¡¯m Haros.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a nice name,¡± she offered.

    His heart fluttered again. She wasn¡¯t like the others. Most people pointed it out¡ªHaros, as in Prince Haros of Edithir¡ªbut she didn¡¯t, and she thought his name was nice. The girl pressed her lips into a line as the priestess passed and headed for the stage. She nimbly tucked her loose curls behind her ear and gave him one last smile before stepping away to the side of the stage and taking a seat next to the eldest priestess. Haros straightened, turning from the women and ceremonial preparations. What was this feeling? His breath came fast and short, and his head spun as an unintentional laugh slipped out.

    He wasn¡¯t an idiot, he never had been. Mira was special. This Mira was different. She didn¡¯t look at him with expectations, with the reverence of his title. She was like him¡ªan unwilling participant in a story already written for them both. A servant to the High Priestess. A prince bound to a dragon and throne. He ran his hand through his hair, thinking quickly. That was right¡ªhe was a prince. He could talk to her even if she was watching a ceremony. Haros was second only to the king himself. No priestess in the world would dare silence him.

    And then, as he turned around, she was gone. The seat by the priestess was empty, and the women at the center of the room had begun their blessings over the food and ceremonial waters.

    ¡°Haros!¡± Lazroth called, pulling him back into the fold, back to the business of his future. ¡°It¡¯s time to get dressed. You can¡¯t wear¡­ that.¡± He waved a finger at the borrowed attire. Haros had spent another night at Danren¡¯s and had worn his spare clothes home again. Commoner¡¯s clothes. Street clothes. Those wouldn¡¯t do for being seen by the priestess and would look even worse when their audience came to watch Haros choose his future partner.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Haros groaned, following his brother to the back rooms to be measured and practically sewn into formal attire. As the tailor fitted his jacket into place, Haros leaned slightly toward the door, catching the sound of an almost familiar voice on the other side. A woman, scolding, and a girl nearly whispering an excuse. The girl who didn¡¯t belong. He bit his lip, straightening and slowing his breath as best he could.

    ¡°Is everything alright, my prince?¡± the man said, though hardly meant it as he adjusted the shoulders of the jacket. ¡°It¡¯s so troubling, is it not, to hear those women bantering on about imperfections. Hard to believe the Order has been maintained for as long as it has with such¡­ uncivilized structure.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re sent to the Temples when they¡¯re kids instead of to school. It¡¯s probably just hard for them to be away from home that long,¡± he said, thinking back on what he¡¯d learned in school. The Styxin were a sacred people, and it was the duty of everyone else to study and understand them. Or at least, the school expected them to care, but most didn¡¯t. Haros swallowed hard as the scolding continued, then it faded away as they went down the hall. No matter how the tailor tried to make conversation more pleasant than the priestess outside, Haros¡¯s mind kept drifting back to that brief exchange with Mira. For the first time in his life, Haros wasn¡¯t sure where his future lay. It wasn¡¯t in the hands of the Priestesses, and it wasn¡¯t in the crown.

    It was somewhere else¡ªsomewhere he couldn¡¯t yet reach. And perhaps Mira knew that, too.

 Chapter 3: Queen In Wait

    The air in the <mark>Styxin</mark> Temple was thick with incense and ever-present whispers. The High Priestess, <mark>Ysara</mark>, sat across from Mira, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Despite the serene atmosphere, a tension hung between them, sharp as a blade. This wasn¡¯t a conversation she wanted to have, and she knew it wasn¡¯t one either looked forward to from the day she¡¯d come to the Temple.

    ¡°You must understand, your Highness,¡± <mark>Ysara</mark> said, her voice low but firm, ¡°you cannot reveal your true identity. Not at the Academy. It¡¯s for your own safety.¡±

    Mira¡¯s gaze flickered to the stone floor beneath her feet, the weight of the words pressing against her chest. She¡¯d heard this before, and yet, it never felt any less heavy. ¡°I understand,¡± she replied, though the words were practically foreign in her mouth. It wasn¡¯t as though the old <mark>Styxin</mark> tongue was some mysterious string of words she had to translate before she spoke. It was her first language. The one her mother had spoken to her from the first breath she¡¯d taken, and the only one she¡¯d known until the High Priestess had taught her the common language. Mira pursed her lips, trying to repress the accent she¡¯d carried from the <mark>Tandor</mark> Mountains. ¡°It is my responsibility to protect my people by protecting myself,¡± she said as she had many times before, each time with less conviction than the last.

    ¡°Many would seek to use you, to claim your title, your power. The <mark>Styxin</mark> are envied, but they are also feared,¡± <mark>Ysara</mark> continued, her eyes searching Mira¡¯s face for signs of real, true understanding that she was sure a child couldn¡¯t possibly have and yet hoped Mira would. ¡°You are the Queen of <mark>Styxis</mark>. You must stay hidden for as long as it takes until your coronation can be public when you are of age.¡±

    The High Priestess was right, of course. Mira had known this for as long as she could remember. But even so, it gnawed at her. Her mother, <mark>Ahalexis</mark>, had sent her away to this very temple when she was only ten. She left, abandoning her to the keep to be hidden from the world, to be molded into something else¡ªsomething less than what she truly was. All the while, her dreams were filled with the stories her mother told her, the <mark>Tandor¡¯s</mark> Promise that <mark>Styxin</mark> would one day have a king. A great king. The last king. And her heart swam with girlish delight at the thought that this promised prince was meant for her and his name would be Sacrifice. Of course, that wasn¡¯t the sort of future the Temple painted for her.

    Mira closed her eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over her, the echoes of her childhood. The cold stone walls of the temple, the silence that filled her days, the endless lessons in humility and how to sit up straight. The way they had made her a servant¡ªjust another girl in a sea of faceless children. They said it was for her own sake; a queen was a servant of the people, and a servant amid priestess was no different. She¡¯d never been allowed to forget that she was a secret, a living weapon blessed with magic beyond any before, and yet never allowed to use her power.

    Her mother had told her it was for her protection that she live among the priestesses and temper her gift until the time came to use them. Mira had never questioned it, not until now, not until she met Haros, who¡¯d challenged everything she understood as ¡®allowed¡¯.

    He was so mischievous, the way he grinned and his carefree laugh, his entire being radiating the kind of freedom that Mira could only dream of, if only for a moment. He had been so different from the children she knew¡ªso free, so unburdened by the weight of a destiny that had been thrust upon him. And he¡¯d been twice as fast to fold his arms and reject it outright! She¡¯d never seen anyone put their foot down the way he did.

    Mira bit her lip, her gaze drifting to the small window of the temple, beyond which she could see the grand castle and the far-off lands stretching toward the sea. Soon, she would board the ship to <mark>Sadel-Hirsch</mark>, to the Royal Academy, where she would once again live in the shadow of her title. Maybe if people knew, they¡¯d listen when she said she didn¡¯t want what everyone had planned for her. Then again, <mark>Ysara</mark> had served for three generations of queens. She knew the cost of keeping them safe and the envy of men greedy for power.

    That thought made her uneasy, but at the same time, it stirred something else inside her. Maybe, at the Academy, she could finally find something¡ªsomeone¡ªthat would allow her to be something more than a secret. How many people went there? Hundreds¡­ no, thousands! Everyone of nobility attended, and those who could afford it sent their children, too. It was the hub of education and opportunity she¡¯d never known before. There had to be at least one or two people she could confide in who wouldn¡¯t think twice of her title, and she could be herself for once. Her real self. The girl, the queen, the free.

    A small, bitter smile tugged at the corner of her lips. <mark>Ysara</mark> was droning on again about the same tired expectation of obedience and silence. Safety was a must. Secrets were armor. And Mira was responsible for both. For a moment, she was almost jealous of Haros. His life, despite its pressures and expectations, seemed so¡­ full. She heard stories from the acolytes who were privileged enough to go home on the weekends. Some lived in <mark>Ileom</mark> and <mark>G¡¯hein</mark>, bordering Edithir and spent summers visiting the Capitol. They¡¯d come back with stories about him, Haros. He had friends, freedom, choices. He had the luxury of running amok in Edithir without fear of what others might do to him if they knew the truth. No one cared that he was their prince. They only cared about the messes he left in his wake.

    She had never known that kind of life.

    The High Priestess¡¯s voice pulled her from her thoughts. ¡°You should prepare. The ship will leave by sundown.¡±

    Mira nodded, though the words barely registered. Instead, she found herself thinking of Haros once more, remembering how he had been forced to choose a partner that day in the <mark>Edithirian</mark> temple. He had rejected every girl they had presented to him, leaving his entire kingdom woefully disappointed. It was a tragedy, really, for no one had ever respected him for what he was: a boy who had the courage to choose his own path, even if it meant going against tradition.

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    That was something she understood. She had spent countless nights staring at the ceiling, imagining what it must have been like, knowing that his kingdom¡¯s expectations weighed so heavily on him. Did he lay awake, too? Did he worry about his people the way she did? No, she inevitably decided. Haros wanted to be free, and that was something he wanted for himself and no one else. That came at the steep cost of his people seeing him as a failed prince before he ever had a chance to prove himself. It was unfair, but that¡¯s how things always were for him¡­ for her. They didn¡¯t have the luxury of being allowed to have their own lives. They were born to serve.

    And no one seemed to see that.

    Mira rose from her seat and walked toward the door, <mark>Ysara</mark> on her heels with a detailed explanation of what to expect, but she hardly listened. The ship awaited her. The Academy awaited her. And perhaps, somewhere along the way, her path would lead somewhere other than back to the dusty old temple. Or at least she hoped so. She could never bear to think of her life culminating to nothing more than service to priestesses bent on traditions and order. She was a queen, the queen, and her life had to mean more than what <mark>Ysara</mark> seemed to think it was worth. Her mother had made it clear that somewhere out there, she was wanted. A prince waited for her, and he would come for her, find her, and she would be with him always. And wasn¡¯t that everything she wanted? She¡¯d never be alone again.

    As she stepped out of the temple and into the cool evening air, Mira couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang in her chest. This was her chance. Her shot at freedom, and everything depended on keeping her title a secret. It was only for a few years. She could handle that. Right? Maybe, she considered. Sooner or later, they¡¯d know the truth. People would ask questions, and she¡¯d slip up, but with any luck, it would be a long time before then. She¡¯d be able to have friends, a life. Maybe she¡¯d even be <mark>coronated</mark> <mark>publically</mark> before anyone knew the wiser. Yes, she decided, things would work out for the best and she¡¯d be free the way Haros was with friends and chance to just her herself.

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    The ship to <mark>Sadel-Hirsch</mark> was a vast and mighty beast, its sails billowing in the wind as it cut through the waves. Mira stood at the bow, staring out at the horizon, lost in thought. The wind tugged at her hair, and for a moment, she imagined what it might be like to truly be free, to leave behind the title of queen and become no one at all.

    In the temple, no matter what they made her do, no one ever forgot she was their queen. It was just a rite she had to perform: scrubbing the floors, cooking in the kitchen, drying herbs, attending temple worship, washing the linens, being their servant girl. At least at the Academy, her duties were to study. And be no one.

    She breathed in the sea air, and her mind wandered back to Haros as it too often did. The way he had looked at her when they first met¡ªhis brilliant blue eyes full of curiosity, of something more than just youthful recklessness. His smile was so genuine. She hadn¡¯t seen him in two years, but somehow, she had always carried him with her, a flickering ember of something that could have been. A friend she had always wanted.

    By morning, the ship docked at <mark>Sadel-Hirsch¡¯s</mark> inlet bay just before the busiest part of the day started and the trade markets opened to the sound of loud bells. Mira was afforded little help unloading or finding her way. The city was alive with color and noise, the streets lined with people who bustled through their daily lives, unaware of who was in their midst. They knocked against her, and she bounced back and forth, following the stream of students and families headed toward the school perched on the hill ahead. She felt out of place among them, as if she were still that girl hidden behind the temple walls, trying to be something she wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°No, they decided to stay home,¡± a girl said sadly.

    ¡°But it¡¯s your first year!¡± another protested.

    ¡°They don¡¯t care. If I were the oldest, they¡¯d be here, but both of my sisters had to come early for senior sign-ins.¡± The girl groaned, leaning against her friend. ¡°I guess they figure I¡¯ll have them if I get lost.¡±

    ¡°Well, you have me, and I¡¯m a second year,¡± her friend offered in a soothing tone, towing her away toward the front gates.

    Mira held her breath as she quickened her step and followed them as best she could. As long as she made it to registration, everything would be fine. She would get her dormitory key¡ªwhich was secured as a single room¡ªand she¡¯d meet her residential advisor for a tour before lunch. Then classes would start, and so would her life. As she came around the next bend, crossing the threshold of the school, something unexpected stirred within her¡ªan excitement, a spark of something new. No one knew her. Not yet, anyway.

    With a push and shove past people too tall to have noticed her¡ªeven if she was exceptionally small for her age¡ªshe came up to the front booth. It wasn¡¯t much of a registration. It was more of an exchange of papers for more papers. And an envelope with her room key. The attendants weren¡¯t exactly conversational and pointed her toward the main courtyard and dormitories. That was easy enough, she figured.

    The crowds thinned as newcomers found their way to their assigned residence and families bid their students farewell. Mira checked her papers again and then, suddenly, stopped. There in the courtyard, being half-dragged by the back of his shirt by another boy, Haros laughed and twisted, desperate to escape if only in jest.

    He had changed. He was taller now, his frame lean and wiry, no longer the boy she remembered. His face had thinned, losing some of the softness of youth already. His eyes¡ªstill as bright, still as full of life¡ªcaught hers, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

    Mira¡¯s heart skipped a beat. It was a momentary thing, a rush of excitement she couldn¡¯t quite explain. She had seen him before, but never like this. Yet she was certain she had dreamed of him, older still than he was now. And he was handsome.

    She couldn¡¯t help herself. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and for the first time in a long while, she felt the stirrings of something more. Something complicated. Something dangerous. Her heart leaped into her throat as he lifted a hand, waving to her and his friends settled in at his side, confused about how he could have known anyone they didn¡¯t know. Mira bit her bottom lip and meekly waved back.

    There was no good explanation for what she felt, and she certainly didn¡¯t know why she felt the way she did or what would come of it, but as she looked at Haros, something deep within her shifted.

    And in that instant, she realized she hadn¡¯t just missed him. She had been waiting for him.

 Chapter 4: The Prince and the Temple Girl

    Mira¡¯s days at the Royal Academy had settled into a comfortable, predictable rhythm. Mornings were spent in rigorous lessons¡ªhistory, politics, magic, combat, and so on¡ªfollowed by afternoons in the library or temple halls, where she refined her spellwork without classmates looking over her shoulder and wondering where she had learned her style of casting. Evenings were quieter, shared with a small circle of acquaintances who quickly became friends, including Prince Lazroth, who had become something of a close friend despite his royal standing.

    That was how the Academy was, for the most part. Those who attended rarely cared who was who unless it came to dating¡ªone of the few things she¡¯d avoided. Mira didn¡¯t talk about it, and she didn¡¯t partake in it. Why would she? Her grades, especially in combat classes, offered her more than enough to focus on. Besides, she was happy enough. She had built something here. A life. A steady, if carefully measured, existence where she could simply be a student rather than the queen no one could know about.

    Haros, much to a margin of unwanted dismay, had not been part of it. Not really.

    He had been a fleeting presence at best, more rumor than reality. Suspended, vanishing for months at a time, returning only long enough to cause some scandal before disappearing again. Lazroth was short of excuses and rolled his eyes at the latest antics and gossip. Some claimed Haros had been expelled outright¡ªtwice. Others insisted he was in some secret training, preparing for the role he could not run from. Whatever the truth was, it hadn¡¯t concerned Mira. She had stopped looking for him in the sea of faces long ago.

    Lazroth told her not to worry, and on the late nights when they sprawled on her floor and recited history facts for exams, she wanted to believe him that everything was fine. Most days, it felt that way, but something in her gut said times were changing. Or maybe it was the letters coming in from Ysara reminding her of the duties she¡¯d soon be taking on and her place among the Priestess Order. The dedication for the baby in Matemirid, whenever it was born, the Pelcatera wedding of the grand duke and his partner¡¯s sister¡ªunfortunate and awkward, but still needing blessed¡ªand the long awaited retirement of the earl of the northern region of Tallus, which had cause a political stir as far north as Edithir. And then there was that matter.

    Ysara, like many of the other priestesses, was still upset about Haros and his stubborn rejection of tradition. The pressure was building for him to choose a partner. He¡¯d already delayed it far longer than any others. The High Priestess had a schedule for the summer that they¡¯d meet in Edithir, Mira in tow, and demand he make his selection. It was long past due. Then Haros had made a scene at school, a fight from what Lazroth said, with one of the other boys¡ªa kid from Tallus with a sharp tongue. Danren, his closest friend, had been suspended for a month over it, and Haros hadn¡¯t been seen for the better part of a year. He¡¯d made a name for himself as a troublemaker, and it seemed he¡¯d finally done himself in, and the school had put him out.

    And then, one ordinary afternoon, he came back.

    He came back, sauntering in through the front gate as if he¡¯d not missed a single day. Much to Mira¡¯s surprise, no one batted a lash at him. Except for her. She had been walking through the open-air corridor that overlooked the training grounds, her mind preoccupied with the lesson she had just finished, when a ripple of excitement passed through like a wave of magic filter in on the breeze. She stopped sucking in a breath as if she¡¯d just come up from the water, and frozen in place. A distant call, a roar of something she didn¡¯t recognize, filled her ears.

    Then she heard his name, spoken with the same disappointment she¡¯d come to find was associated with him at every turn. ¡®Oh, that flirt, Haros,¡¯ the girls would say. And ¡®Haros¡­¡¯ the boys would groan, half hoping he¡¯d leave them alone. Yet there was a constant undercurrent of admiration for his brash nature. He had a magnetize about him. Mira¡¯s eyes turned first, barely glancing down until she heard his name spoken from familiar lips.

    ¡°Haros,¡± Yvin scorned, ¡°you¡¯re late!¡± Her long, blonde hair whipped back and forth as she jogged over to him. She had become a beauty worthy of envy at the school, and the way Haros looked at her¡ªhe didn¡¯t even notice. Of course, even if he had, she had eyes for only one person and that was Danren.

    Did he know they¡¯d started dating while he¡¯d been gone? Probably not, she figured. Lazroth wasn¡¯t the gossiping sort, so he wouldn¡¯t have told him even if he¡¯d seen him. Aside from holidays, Lazroth never left campus.

    Mira turned, leaning over the railing as he came into view. Her breath caught, and her eyes rounded, slack-jawed and stunned. He was taller, much taller. Broad-shouldered. His features had sharpened, all traces of boyhood gone, replaced by the angular confidence of a man who had seen and done things beyond the Academy walls. His lovely raven hair was a touch longer, falling messily over his forehead, and his expression was one of amusement as Yvin jabbed a finger into his chest. No longer were they eye to eye. He towered over her and everyone else.

    ¡°You think I¡¯m going to miss your graduation?¡± His voice, low and sultry, carried in the air and found her with ease.

    Mira tensed, recognizing it from her dreams and the long days the priestesses spent inducing vision through smoke and incense. They were obsessed with her magic and longed to know what the future held for them. Ysara said it was the same for all queens, that her vision of a man awaiting her was simply a blessing to the Styxin women bestowed by the goddess. It was to guide her to the next heir. Mira didn¡¯t entirely believe that, and then, without warning, his eyes found her.

    Mira froze. Unable to blink. To think.

    Recognition flashed across his face instantly, followed by something warmer. Familiar. He smiled slowly¡ªnot the easy, arrogant grin she had seen him flash at others, a wrinkled nose and bubbly laughter, but something else. Something more deliberate. Haros turned, quick to head for the corridor stairs, leaving Yvin annoyed with her arms crossed in the field.

    Mira gulped and turned away before she could understand why.

    <hr>

    Haros had never cared much for first impressions. They were often misleading and nothing more than a picture of what people wanted everyone else to believe. Which was fine enough for a girl he thought was cute, one worthy of stealing a kiss from one night and never bothering with again the next day. And, for the most part, he had spent years perfecting the art of making a terrible one, mostly for sport. But as he watched Mira duck away and disappear into the crowd, he felt an unexpected jolt of frustration.

    There he stood in the middle of the corridor, brows furrowed and confusion coloring his features. While there were a lot of ways people reacted to him, recently more favorable than not despite his lingering reputation, turning away wasn¡¯t one of them. Not for girls, anyway. Or some boys. Depending on their preferences¡­ or fluidity to those preferences. Regardless, people didn¡¯t run from him. Not usually. And she had recognized him. He was sure of it. But she had avoided him¡ªon purpose.

    Haros blinked, unsure what to make of it, then shook his head to clear the confusion.

    It didn¡¯t make any sense. Most people either feared him, worshiped him, or wanted something from him. But Mira? She had seen him, processed his presence, and chosen to leave before he could so much as say a word. It wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d done that, but at least those other times, there was a good reason. She was headed to class, to the library¡ªa place he¡¯d been banned from without supervision after accidentally setting a fire¡ªor to some study group he wasn¡¯t invited to. She lived in her own world of priorities, and he was on the outskirts. But this? This was different.

    It was infuriating.

    And, for reasons he couldn¡¯t quite name, kind of thrilling. He bit the corner of his lips, hesitating to admit to himself that while other girls were quick to fawn over him, especially since he¡¯d shot up in height and his bone structure had revealed something they liked about his face instead of pudgy cheeks, the idea that Mira wasn¡¯t one of them intrigued him. Dangerously so. As though she¡¯d not taken up residency in his mind for the last six years, since that very first day he¡¯d met her. What was it that made her special? Her eyes, he decided. They were pretty. And she was kind.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    <hr>

    Yvin and Danren had sat with him while he should have been in class, while he should have been sitting but instead was pacing. The more he¡¯d thought about Mira walking away from him as if he were a stranger¡ªwhich in truth he partially was, and couldn¡¯t quantify what lived between them as much more than passing acquaintance¡ªhad morphed from curious thrill to irked frustration.

    Danren groaned, flipping his head back against the couch. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just go talk to her? It¡¯s practically lunch time.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t just talk to her,¡± Haros stopped in the middle of the living room, turning to Danren as if his suggestion was insane. And it was, all things considered. ¡°She walked away from me.¡±

    ¡°All the more reason to talk to her,¡± he waved a hand, rolling his wrist as he sleepily explained, ¡°and to let me get a nap before my exam.¡±

    ¡°I told you an all-nighter was a bad idea.¡± Yvin gave Danren a gentle pat on his leg, then turned to Haros, ¡°And he¡¯s right. You should just go talk to her. It¡¯s not like you have trouble talking to any other girl.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re barely a girl,¡± he chided, a smirk on his face as if he hadn¡¯t been the first person touch her breast the summer the puberty hit her almost as hard as it hit him. As if she¡¯d never had his dick in her mouth¡­ which he felt a little bad about, but Danren had blown him, too and that made them even. Or a trio. It wasn¡¯t really clear where the line was drawn, but he didn¡¯t have it in him to ask a ruin a good thing.

    ¡°Do you think maybe the reason you don¡¯t want to talk to her,¡± Danren said, sitting up, ¡°is because you might actually like her?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s cute,¡± Haros correct, dismissing the allegation.

    ¡°For you, that¡¯s basically the same thing,¡± Yvin said, eyeing him as his face twisted with disgust.

    ¡°I have standards.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re whore.¡±

    ¡°Fortune telling slut.¡±

    ¡°Worm.¡±

    ¡°Hey, come on,¡± Danren interrupted, stepping between them with his hands raised. ¡°Just go talk to, have lunch or something. It¡¯s not a big deal. And Yvin,¡± he turned to her raising his brows, ¡°leave him alone and I¡¯ll do that thing you like¡­¡±

    Her face turned a brilliant red and she huffed stepped away from the would have been argument. ¡°Fine, but you had better go talk to her, or I¡¯m never giving you another fortune reading, Haros.¡±

    ¡°I bet I could pursuade you,¡± he grinned, winking at her and knowing with certainty he could.

    ¡°Stop it, you whore,¡± Danren grumbled, shoving Haros by chest and stepping around him to his bedroom door. He threw it open and motioned for Yvin to join him for what Haros was certain wouldn¡¯t be just a nap. He couldn¡¯t prove it, but he was sure they were having sex.

    Left along to his thoughts, and not wanting to stick around and listen to his two closest friends get closer with each other, Haros strolled down the walkway along the courtyard. It was nearly midday, and the hardest part of striking up conversation should have been cutting through the throng of students as they shuffled toward the dining halls. He crammed his hands in his pockets as he came to the cafe, rarely used for more than a quick meal¡ªeverything was pre-made and unimpressive. Mira sat neatly on a stone ledge beneath the flowering willow tree, her lunch in her lap, flipping through an old book and her toes barely skimming the ground.

    ¡°You¡¯re avoiding me,¡± he announced, dropping onto the ledge beside her without invitation. He leaned back on his arms, looking her over and half expecting her to stare up at him with the same sort of awe and wonder he found in Amberese every time he showed up unexpectedly.

    Mira startled, her chest pushing out as her shoulders pulled back. She snapped around, her eyes darting up to his before she quickly looked away. It was just Haros. She let out a short, sharp breath and regained her composure. ¡°I am not.¡±

    Haros smirked. ¡°You definitely are.¡±

    She sighed, setting her book down. ¡°If I intended to avoid you, I would have succeeded. Is there something you wanted?¡±

    ¡°Wanted?¡± He scoffed. ¡°I wanted¡­¡± Oh shit, what was he actually wanted from her? Why was he going to this effort? The pause grew louder. ¡°¡­to talk to you.¡±

    Mira blinked at her book, shut it, and then looked at him curiously. ¡°What did you want to talk to me about, your highness?¡±

    For a long moment, he fixated on her eyes, wondering how it was they could be the shade of brown and amber, with shadows of obsidian, but then his mind brought him back with a jolt of arrogance. ¡°You¡¯re the temple girl who waved at me like a lunatic our first day here.¡±

    Mira stiffened, her mouth screwing tightly shut, and Haros immediately regretted his choice of words.

    ¡°I mean,¡± he corrected quickly, ¡°it was cute.¡±

    Her face flushed¡ªa reaction that sent a wild vibration through him, awakening every desperate hormone he had that knew damn well he was more man than boy. Then, in a flash, her jaw flexed, and her face went blank. She stood up, packed away her book in her bag, and threw the satchel over her shoulder.

    Unintentionally, his eyes slid from her face, to her back, to the narrow of her waist, and trailed down her legs before coming back up to the hemline of her skirt. His lips parted as his thoughts raced ahead to what her panties looked like, what she looked like¡­ what she tasted like. And that was something he genuinely knew almost nothing about. He had done only a handful of things with a handful of people, but something about Mira struck a particular desire he hadn¡¯t expected.

    Haros leaned back, stretching out his legs. ¡°What have you been up to these past few years? Kissing boys?¡±

    She hesitated, gripping the strap of her bag. ¡°Studying. Training.¡±

    ¡°Sounds thrilling.¡±

    ¡°It is.¡±

    Haros studied her profile. The way the afternoon light caught in her hair, and her hands fidgeted slightly as she came back around and sat down. A peace offering and willingness to indulge his interest in her. His gaze drifted lower, to the delicate curve of her mouth and the soft pink of her lips, before he forced himself to look away. His heart rolled in a chaotic splendor of beats, and he shifted uncomfortably.

    ¡°You have an accent,¡± he blurted.

    Mira turned sharply. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Your accent. It¡¯s different.¡± He looked at her again, eyes narrowing not out of suspicion but a vague amusement and wonder. He¡¯d not ever heard anyone with an accent like hers, but many that were similar. Hers was¡­ cleaner, purer, and lighter. ¡°Where are you from, Mira?¡±

    Her expression shuttered. ¡°Nowhere important.¡±

    That was a lie. He could tell. ¡°You grew up in the temples. You must have come from somewhere, darling.¡±

    And there it was again, that blank look and the chill it sent reverberating through him. ¡°Everyone comes from somewhere, but no one cares if about that unless you have an accent, right?¡±

    Haros blinked once, and before he could say anything, he snapped his jaw shut. She had a good point. A great point. And before he could say anything that reflected an iota of an apology for being inadvertently rude, she stood abruptly, gathering her things once more.

    ¡°I should go,¡± she said quickly.

    Haros panicked, jumping to his feet. ¡°Wait, I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± It wasn¡¯t. And she walked away.

    Haros deflated in a long slow breath as the petals of the willow blossoms scattered around him like rain. He stood there, staring after her with a sinking feeling in his gut. He had just made a complete fool of himself.

    <hr>

    Haros found Danren after class, glowing as he¡¯d managed a good grade, a good nap, and an orgasm, and swiftly threw himself into the chair across from him with a dramatic groan. his hand slid down his face, which was better not to show. Hell, even Carin could tell he had humiliated himself. Not to say he didn¡¯t appreciate the blowjob to make him feel better, but he was admittedly still feeling anything but better.

    Danren hummed but didn¡¯t even look up from his book. ¡°That bad, huh?¡±

    Haros crossed his arms. He¡¯d been gone most of the day and had skipped class, and that was all he could come up with to say? It wasn¡¯t just bad, it was awful. Every time he tried to screw his head on straight, his thoughts went back to her and the way he¡¯d made a complete ass of himself. He wanted to pretend like he didn¡¯t know why her opinion of him mattered so much, but he knew. He felt it with every raced heartbeat and sudden shortness of breath. Every sudden erection at the thought of her brown eyes staring up at him, and the flaccid flop staring down at Carin¡¯s freckles and being disappointed it was someone else. He knew because it made him wander like a lost idiot the way Danren had a year and a half ago when he¡¯d finally decided he¡¯d ask Yvin on a date.

    ¡°I think I accidentally fell in love,¡± Haros breathed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the inevitable chastising.

    Danren finally glanced at him, almost impressed at his easy confession. ¡°Let me guess¡ªAmberese?¡±

    Haros scowled. ¡°No.¡±

    Danren stared at him for a moment, expecting a correction.

    ¡°She¡¯s not really that kind of girl,¡± he clarified.

    ¡°Could have fooled me,¡± Danren replied, then raised an eyebrow. ¡°Icarid, then?¡±

    Haros blinked. ¡°What? No! Why would¡ª¡± He cut himself off, realization dawning. It was meant to be a private matter with Icarid, nothing public or open. Icarid wasn¡¯t exactly comfortable with his preferences, and neither were his parents. ¡°Wait, do people think¡ª¡±

    Danren smirked. ¡°You¡¯re not exactly subtle.¡±

    He groaned again, burying his face in his hands. ¡°This is a disaster.¡±

    Danren chuckled, leaned over, and patted his shoulder. ¡°Welcome to the club, your highness. Love¡¯s a bitch.¡±

 Chapter 5: Unspoken Truths

    Mira leaned over her parchment, carefully grinding a mixture of dried herbs. The pestle and mortar worked well, but something about her river stones made the process feel more rewarding. Her small, quaint room smelled of earth and crisp leaves, the scent of pressed flowers mingling with the sharper aroma of tinctures and solutions left to settle overnight. She was no practitioner, but to the untrained eye, she was a natural witch. The priestesses would have been proud, if not a little shocked, since they¡¯d never taught her outright.

    Her focus should have been on her project¡ªan advanced formula for healing salves¡ªbut instead, she found her thoughts disrupted by the all-too-familiar presence lingering just beyond the threshold.

    Haros had been persistent. Awkwardly so. The past few weeks were an endless cycle of interruptions, failed attempts at meaningful conversation, and his poorly concealed embarrassment whenever she brushed him off. He stood there like he¡¯d been sucker punched, scoffed, and half the time called her a bitch under his breath. Clearly, he didn¡¯t handle rejection very well. And it wasn¡¯t that she was rejecting him, and it wasn¡¯t that she disliked him¡ªif anything, she was growing strangely accustomed to his clumsy efforts¡ªbut she was busy. Too busy to entertain whatever game he was playing at.

    ¡°You¡¯re scowling,¡± Lazroth observed, sprawled across the worktable beside her, idly twirling a pestle between his fingers as he waited for her to forfeit her effort and just use the tools as they were meant to be used. ¡°Something troubling you? Or is it just your usual disdain for our social obligations?¡±

    Mira sighed, returning her attention to her work. ¡°You mean the Homecoming Gala?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. A dreadful, ghastly, and overly pompous affair.¡± Lazroth sighed theatrically. ¡°I should take someone, I suppose. It¡¯s expected. A prince can¡¯t exactly go alone, or gods forefend, not go at all. But who could I bring?¡± He paused. ¡°I mean, I know who, but¡­¡±

    Mira gave him a sidelong glance, weary from the constant dodging. ¡°But you don¡¯t want to say it out loud.¡±

    He hesitated before offering her a small, sheepish smile. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly conventional.¡±

    ¡°I think you should be honest about who you are,¡± Mira said, her voice gentle but firm. ¡°There¡¯s no shame in it.¡±

    Lazroth chuckled dryly. ¡°Easy for you to say, Lady Secrets.¡±

    Mira¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn¡¯t wrong. Here she was, urging him to be honest, while she herself concealed the greatest truth of all. Four years, and she¡¯d kept it so tight to her chest she¡¯d only made a few friends at most.

    ¡°No one is going to think less of you for who you are, Laz.¡±

    ¡°Nor will they think less of you,¡± he said, slipping off the table and strolling around her. ¡°I promise, your secrets are safe with me. And you don¡¯t have to keep acting like I don¡¯t know.¡± He set a hand beside hers, leaning on the table. Mira gulped, just as he expected. It wouldn¡¯t have been the first time, nor likely the last, that from a glance or the corner of their eyes, someone mistook Laz for Haros. They looked strikingly similar, but straight on, the differences were obvious. Laz was smaller, his face more squared, and his shoulders were broader. He had a more regal look to him. But they shared the same black hair, the same pale skin, and the same piercing blue eyes.

    Laz leaned in, whispering, ¡°Just because we¡¯re brothers doesn¡¯t mean I¡ª¡±

    As Mira snapped around, holding up a finger in defense, an argument on the tip of her tongue, a sharp knock on the door interrupted them. They stared at each other, dumbfounded for a moment. Mira huffed, then went to the door. The girl on the other side, an acolyte, smiled brightly and handed her a letter. Mira thanked her, sent her on her way, and then returned to her room.

    She sat on the side of her bed, turning the letter over. As if summoned, Lazroth dropped beside her. Though he was a year younger than her, it was often hard to believe he was the little brother to perhaps the most persistent prince she¡¯d ever met. And more surprising was both how close and not close they truly were. They didn¡¯t talk half as much as she¡¯d expected and yet managed to know everything about each other. Maybe it was just a thing between siblings. She had always wanted one.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Lazroth asked, peering over her shoulder.

    ¡°It¡¯s from the High Priestess,¡± Mira said, her fingers running over the priestess¡¯ seal, dark and unmistakable, stamped onto the letter to hold it shut. Her stomach tightened as she cracked it open. Carefully, she read it over once, then again.

    ¡°Do they miss you back at the temple?

    Mira swallowed. ¡°Its summons.¡±

    Lazroth¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°Summons? But that would mean you¡¯re a priestess, and priestesses aren¡¯t allowed formal schooling. Why would¡ª¡± He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze sharpening. ¡°Mira.¡± His voice was different now, filled with the weight of realization about a detail he¡¯d missed for years. ¡°You were never a priestess, were you?¡±

    Mira exhaled slowly. ¡°No.¡±

    Lazroth stared at her, a sort of sadness dragging his face down. ¡°Oh, you poor thing, you didn¡¯t pass the exams.¡±

    ¡°I never took them,¡± Mira said sourly.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°What?¡± He reeled back. He looked her up and down, taking note of how she dressed, sat, and the fire flickering in her eyes as she read the letter again. It wasn¡¯t the behavior of a would-be priestess. He had seen so many of them offered to his brother that he could pick one out from three kingdoms away. No, she was something else. ¡°Wait. Wow, I¡¯m an idiot.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± She looked over at him, baffled by his sudden shift.

    Laz threw his hand through his hair. ¡°You¡¯re not even Styxin, are you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am,¡± Mira¡¯s gaze darted toward the herbs and books stacked up, full of spells only a true Styxin could use. ¡°Blood and bones.¡±

    He scooted closer, cocking his head, and for a moment he looked more like Haros that she expected. Mira blinked, pulling back. He leaned in, lifting her chin with his fingers and examining her face as if he expected to find something there. ¡°You¡¯re something different¡­¡±

    She breathed out, dropping her shoulders. He could see it but didn¡¯t recognize it, and lying to him wouldn¡¯t change anything. Besides, she wasn¡¯t keen on lying. It set a bad precedent. ¡°I am the Styxin heir, Laz.¡±

    Silence stretched between them before he let out a slow breath as he sat back. Then, a small smirk. ¡°Well. Isn¡¯t this ironic?¡±

    Mira allowed herself a tiny, wry smile. ¡°We both have secrets to keep.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Yours is about a crown.¡±

    ¡°And yours is about a boy.¡± She set the letter down between them. ¡°But you have to promise not to tell anyone.¡±

    <hr>

    Haros pressed the dean¡¯s daughter against the wall, thankful Danren was gone for the afternoon. His fingers traced the line of her spine under her shirt. Their breaths mingled, the air between them heavy with heat and haste. Her hands tugged at his shirt, and he let it fall carelessly to the floor, his lips trailing down the side of her neck.

    For weeks, he¡¯d tried all he could to reach Mira. She entertained him for as long as she could, but as far as he could tell, she didn¡¯t think much of him, and certainly never thought of him outside of those little moments. His heart twisted into knots at the thought of the blank stares she gave when he crossed a line with her. Lines he didn¡¯t expect and never knew where he¡¯d mistakenly find them. Gods, that look was the worst. It was entirely unreadable.

    The only thing that balmed it over had been Everin. She was gorgeous. All bouncy breasts and pouty lips that looked good with his cock between them. Best of all, she was the dean¡¯s daughter. He slid his hand up her skirt, sliding her panties down, then found his way between her thighs. A throaty groan crawled up and buzzed against her mouth between hurried kisses. She wasn¡¯t just wet; she was soaked, and he was harder than a rock.

    ¡°Haros,¡± she rasped as his fingers explored her, delving in and out at a steady pace. ¡°Do you have¡­ you know¡­ protection?¡±

    He paused, his lips curling into a grin. ¡°You don¡¯t trust me?¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± she whispered against his lips as he pressed another finger into her, drawing out a sharp gasp. ¡°It¡¯s just my last boyfriend¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then it¡¯s a good thing I¡¯m not your boyfriend,¡± he chuckled, reclaiming her mouth with his and unfastening his pants. It wasn¡¯t a secret that the last boy she¡¯d dated, rightly a man too old for her, had it in his head that he¡¯d get her pregnant and make a young wife of her. Haros happened upon them, and he corrected the nature of their relationship with a beating worthy of legend. Everin had thanked him generously for saving her, and between adrenaline and testosterone, he came more than he thought he could.

    His cock slid along her stomach as she yanked her shirt off, discarding it on the floor. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, and her hands slid down his chest. Every bit of her was soft and delicate, and her stiff nipples were velvety. Haros kissed her neck and shoulders, maneuvering to slip himself between her legs. Her arousal ran long his length as he shifted, positioning for her, and¡ª

    Then, a sharp knock came at the door.

    Haros groaned, pulling back just as she let out an exasperated sigh.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be joking,¡± she muttered, slumping down as he stepped away.

    Haros rolled his eyes, raking a hand through his hair before pulling his pants back into place. He grumbled, looking around for his shirt as another knock sounded. It wasn¡¯t Danren, and he hoped like hell it wasn¡¯t the dean. Haros looked over at Everin, who offered only a shrug as she wrapped in the blanket from the couch, hair already tossled in a mess. Without wasting another moment on finding a shirt, he answered the door.

    There was no greeting.

    ¡°You¡¯re being summoned back to Edithir,¡± the official announced, dressed in royal colors, handing him a sealed notice.

    Haros stared at it. His jaw tightened. ¡°Unbelievable.¡±

    Everin leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. It was no secret that King Faliam had gone mad in the last few years. Or at least mostly mad. That was the problem that happened to anyone who carried a full dragon. When the beast wanted to move on, it didn¡¯t matter whether or not its host was ready. It would try to pry its way out from their bond by any means it could, and for Faliam, it had chosen trying to make him eat himself to death. His weight swelled with his agitation, and the nightmares kept him snacking through the smallest hours.

    Normally, a king would keep his dragon until his first born matured to adulthood, twenty at least. But Faliam¡¯s time was ending too soon and dragon wanted Haros. People had long taken bets on how early it would be; even Everin¡¯s family suspected he¡¯d make it no longer than eighteen. She smiled, half to herself. ¡°Well, looks like your time¡¯s up.¡±

    He sighed, rubbing at his temple. She was right. His parents had bothered to write him, generous by his mother¡¯s standard, to inform him of his anticipated return in a few weeks. What should have been another round of rejecting women he¡¯d rather fuck, he was being assigned one and taking the Legacy the same day. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and tossed the letter aside. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± he said again.

    ¡°What¡¯s the big deal? A lot of people have inheritances.¡± Everin forced a smile, though she knew this wasn¡¯t the same as partial shifters. This was a full dragon, one passed down from the gods themselves.

    ¡°This is going to fuck everything up,¡± he said, sitting beside her and holding his head in his hands.

    Everin smirked. ¡°Maybe this a sign that you should tell that girl you¡¯ve been mooning over how you feel before you disappear again.¡±

    Haros narrowed his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t moon over anyone.¡±

    She laughed, leaning against him, fingers teasing at the hem of his pants. ¡°Oh please, you¡¯re head over heels for that girl.¡±

    ¡°Are you jealous?¡±

    ¡°Do you want me to be, your highness?¡±

    With a growl, Haros shoved her down on the couch, capturing her lips once more and carefully positioning over top of her. He tugged his pants down and guided himself to her. There was something about her jealousy that had him on edge. No, it wasn¡¯t her jealousy; it was his own. Everin was beautiful, but she was only enough to satisfy a craving. As his hips pushed forward, and her breath caught with delighted satisfaction, he decided then that he¡¯d figure out how to tell Mira later that their little rendezvous would go on hold and when he came back he wouldn¡¯t entirely be who he¡¯d been¡ªat least not for a while. And to not take it personally. It was just his lot in life. Hopefully, she wouldn¡¯t resent him for what inheriting the Legacy would do to him.

 Chapter 6: Bindings

    Mira traced her fingers over the elegantly written words, only elegant for their penmanship rather than content, rereading the letter for what must have been the hundredth time. It was his usual hurried script, long swoops and hasty punctuation, an almost-apology for his sudden departure. She clenched her jaw. He should have told her. They were friends, weren¡¯t they? Barely. He came around when he wanted something, and she was always busy.

    Maybe they were friends, though. It was hard to tell. She hoped they were, but when he came around, there was something in his eyes that said he wanted and perhaps needed more than he knew how to ask for or name. Yet at the very same time, looking at him was close to impossible with the way his stared burned into and felt like gazing into eternity itself. Her heart skipped at the thought of him sitting beside her, so casual and completely unhinged with the things he said.

    He was a flirt, and he couldn¡¯t help himself. While he was quick to amend when she was uncomfortable with it, there seemed be a strange insecurity about him when she offered any amount of reciprocation. As though he wasn¡¯t sure what to do if anyone flirted back instead of falling over him. Mira smiled to herself, amused by the memories of his dumbfounded stare and the breathy laugh when he realized she¡¯d matched him beat for beat and thought her funny for it. Yes, they were probably friends and the fact that he hadn¡¯t told her that he was leaving hurt even more because of it.

    The candlelight flickered against the polished stone walls of the temple chamber, casting elongated shadows over the dark purple ceremonial robes draped across her form. They were stiff and form, what anyone would expect from royalty, a queen, and yet she felt less like one in the ornate costume than when she was sitting in her pajamas in her dormitory. Tonight, though, she was was no student. Mira would stand among the priestesses¡ªthe Styxin heir, the child of gods and mortals, and an observer of the inheritance ceremony she¡¯d spent a great deal of her life preparing for and learning about to ensure the rare and incredible transfer of at least one full dragon in her lifetime.

    And yet, something in her gut warned her that nothing about this night would go the way anyone had planned. There was no way to explain it, either. If she told Ysara the air smelled wrong, or the sky didn¡¯t look nearly clear enough even when there were no clouds to be found, she¡¯d stare at her like she¡¯d lost her mind. Ysara was old enough to be a crypt keeper and corpse therein, and oversaw the passage of four dragons. This would be her fifth. It would be the crowning jewel over them. The Legacy was revered as the oldest and greatest of all the dragons, the first to have been given by the gods and that made Edithir the highest throne of the lineage, second only the Styxin Empire comprise only of three kingdoms: Styxis, G¡¯hein, and Ileom.

    No one but true Styxin could oversee the transfer of the Legacy.

    Ysara adjusted the golden clasp at Mira¡¯s shoulder, her gaze steady. It was best not to ask her queen about the letter she¡¯d clutched for the last hour or why it was so badly folded and bent. It would be an insult to injury when the ceremony came so close to midterms, the young queen would have only hours left to study. Ysara shifted, adjusting the folds of the fabric. ¡°You¡¯re only here to witness and sign the ceremonial papers. Nothing more.¡±

    Mira nodded, though her mind was elsewhere. She folded down the letter and slipped it into a hidden pocket of her robes. There was no point in continuing to read it. Haros didn¡¯t want to talk to her outright, and she had to accept that he cared enough for a letter. That was something, she figured. Writing meant he¡¯d thought it over, put in effort, and felt something too big to face if he to tell her about his departure in the first place.

    No matter, he¡¯d see her soon enough, alleviating any future need for an explanation. Not that she ever needed one. The fate of the holders of dragons was well known. The beast entered them through the ceremonial rites, and their desires melded with the ancient creature. They became its vessel and keeper. Some morphed from gentle spirit to tactical masterminds, cold and calculating. While others became ambitious lovers. King Faliam hungered, and Madios in Ordaithahn, who had inherited a dragon later in life, had contended with a lust for pleasures¡ªperfumes, gold, women, drinks, fine foods, silks, and every other luxury he could get his hands on. And his kingdom thrived for it, his dragon urging him to any means to satiate the desires.

    It was a force, ancient and unrelenting, humming beneath her skin. When they took a dragon, they became it. They unified if the ceremony went right and their partner secured the bond. If not, then the fate like the children of Tallus awaited them. The dragon would fracture and choose new hosts. Or worse, like in Seralena, it would go dormant and the inheritance would happen with no power gained.

    Mira licked her dry lips. The Legacy was an incredible beast, one whose presence permeated the entire castle, the Capitol, nearly the entire kingdom. The air felt heavier, charged with something she couldn¡¯t name but knew it was as old as the magic her mother has taught her. She cast one last glance at Ysara, a silent plea to not have to be there, but it went unheard. No matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, Haros¡¯s absence had affected her more than she wanted to admit. The very idea of standing before him, knowing he didn¡¯t expect to see her, made her skin creep and her stomach knot. He wouldn¡¯t understand.

    <hr>

    Haros stood rigid in the Edithirian temple chamber, uncomfortable in his formal attire. His shoulders squared as he faced the ceremony hall¡¯s grand entrance, and he pulled anxiously at the corners of his pressed sleeves. The tailor had made a handful of grunts and comments about how much he¡¯d grown, but when it came to looking like the role he was meant to take, his physique had finally achieved that. His reflection said he would be king, and he¡¯d have any queen he wanted, but his heart said it meant he would never be free to be himself. He was his title.

    The doors opened and the first priestess filed in, swinging incense and chanting softly. The women chosen for him lined the room, their gazes cast downward in silent submission. Haros swallowed, his throat dry. Each was a lovely flower of a woman, and not a single one was a day older than himself. What an unfortunate fate, he thought, to be pulled away to bind their lives to some stranger. They could have had more than this. Rejecting them was a blessing they didn¡¯t understand, all brainwashed with their faith. Goddess knew they were selling away their lives, and he wanted no part of it. Still, Haros had always known this moment would come when he had to choose, but that did not mean he had to welcome it.

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    The head priest cleared his throat. ¡°You may observe them, but you are not to speak. Let your instincts guide you. The call of the dragon to its mate, a partner of your natural life, lives within you, born to you by your father. Seek out the one to bind and keep.¡±

    Haros exhaled, allowing his gaze to drift across the line of candidates. Too short, too tall, too thin, too too thin, too pretty, too attractively wholesome, too tired, too distracted, too ordinary, too unique, too¡­ much of everything he could think of to make them not good enough, and perfect for leaving the temple in favor of a better life. Did they not understand they were essentially being trafficked by a god fearing cult? No, they thought this was something holy. Haros scanned them over again. Then, by chance¡ªor fate¡ªhis eyes drifted beyond the row of nameless women and locked with a figure in the distance.

    Her brown eyes glimmered in the amber light, her mousy brown curls reflecting the glow. The deep royal blue and purple of her robs stood out against the white glad women awaiting his selection. She was impossibly commanding, and without even trying she made the room go silent. Only his heartbeat, slow and faint, filled the room.

    His brows furrowed in confusion as time and chanting melted back into place. Why was she here? She was supposed to be at the Academy. It wasn¡¯t as though she was priestess, or training to be one. They never attended formal schooling, and the High Priestess looked at her with a sort of concern reserved more often for a caretaker than a master. Oh, he thought as realization dawned on him, she was a ward to the temple. An orphan turned servant. She was there to provide for the women he didn¡¯t choose. Poor thing, having to watch him turn them away was about as shameful as watching him eye the girls at school during lunch. He couldn¡¯t help it, but he should have shown at least a bit of restraint.

    Then again, when those same girls ignored him, she laughed. And her laugh was the sweetest sound he¡¯d ever heard like twinkling silver bells. And her smile¡­

    A sharp voice interrupted his thoughts. ¡°Choose, or one will be chosen for you.¡±

    Haros tore his gaze from Mira, feeling the weight of expectation pressing against his chest. How could he possibly choose one of these pieces of ceremonial placation? They didn¡¯t matter, not in any real way. He turned to the women before him and, without thinking, gestured limply to the one directly ahead. She was cute, mostly, but nothing about her stood out. She was just¡­ there. Convenient, quiet, and there.

    The room stirred with delight at his long awaited compliance. The priestesses wrapped in fine robes and decorated with dainty chains moved like waves on a beach as preparations for the ceremony began. The grand table was arranged, heavy silver chains laid in neat rows beside thick enchanted shackles gleaming with rich magic. The first shift was never easy. The bindings were meant to keep him steady, to prevent the Legacy from overtaking him before he had the strength to control it. And most importantly, to prevent his escape and unintentional demise. A new dragon rarely had any sense as the host and beast battle for control in the first days. It would take weeks to fully adjust, but when they made peace, he¡¯d be back at the Academy as if nothing had transpired.

    Another row of chains were placed, and a heavy set of sheets and blankets were laid out on the table. One by one, the priestesses took their turns guiding him from here to there to receive markings on his skin in ash, and be anointed with herbal oils. The smoke from incense dizzied his head, blurring his senses as the priestesses plucked at the buttons of his shirt and dragged off his jacket. Then, from the whirling haze Mira moved toward him, a delicate touch as her fingers brushed along his shoulders and arms, sweep off his shirt and taking his wrists in her hands. The priestesses fitted the shackles into place, but he stared only at her.

    She looked so certain. More than he could have ever felt and his entire life had led up to this one critical moment everyone expected from him, a moment he was born to fulfill. Yet he could scarcely keep his mind on it when the only thing that felt like it mattered was the heat of her presence, the warm of her palms against his cooling skin that settled the rising storm in a way he had never felt before.

    ¡°Mira,¡± he breathed, catching her attention. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± His question came more as a murmured concern, tilting his head toward her.

    Her lips parted slightly before she answered, her voice composed but quiet, eyes fixed on his as if there was never anywhere else to look. ¡°I am here to oversee.¡±

    He smirked. ¡°Do you like what you see?¡±

    ¡°The chains are a nice touch,¡± she answered, placing her hand to his chest and gently pushing him back until he sat on the table. A chuckle rumbled up from his chest and his hand reached for hers, asking quietly for a moment of comfort from the only thing familiar in the room besides his family. Mira stepped back, unintentionally looking him over and smiling slightly. She did like what she saw, and her heart clenched at the thought of it vanishing too soon. He wouldn¡¯t be himself, but that was his fate. He was a prince, first born, and it was time. ¡°It¡¯s traditional, but you wear them well.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so you like me in chains.¡± The corner of his mouth lifted, his usual confidence returning. ¡°You¡¯re a very bad woman.¡±

    She rolled her eyes, but he caught the hint of color in her cheeks. ¡°The worst.¡±

    The temple¡¯s head priestess signaled for silence, taking the hand of the token girl chosen by apathy. The priestess to her left stepped forward, laying open the old spell book, an anthology of ages. Haros forced his attention forward as the sacred words were spoken and echoed in a chorus, a rising sound that filled the room.

    Faliam took his seat by the table, breathing slow and evenly as the magic filtered around in long tendrils. His robes danced as if rustled by a wind. Haros couldn¡¯t focus, his heart raced and his eyes darted around the room. Every person had their place, their part and role, and knew what was coming better than he did. His instincts¡ªso crucial to this moment, meant to lead him the partner her truly needed and would save him from himself, binding the dragon to him¡ªwere betraying him. Then, as a reckoning roar filled his ears and he breathed in the smokes of magic, in the surge of power and burning, his gaze snapped into place and found Mira. She had not looked away from him for a moment, and every part of cried out for her to make it stop, but what had begun could not be halted until it was done.

    Suddenly, the chains snapped tight and he buckled forward, grabbing his head and his hair. A sound, a noise unearthly and inhuman tore through him. Spines and bones cracked, erupting with scale along his skin. Then, before he could stop it, a deafening blast ripped through the chamber. The air vibrated with power.

    Haros¡¯s vision blurred, his muscles seizing as his body succumbed to the shift. Screams broke out and crashes of stone shattered against the floor. He lifted his head, searching the room. But instead of the chosen girl with no name, his final gaze landed on Mira. And a wild, violent rage shot through him, prickling his skin and spines and scales, hot and demanding, and entirely uncontrolled.

 Chapter 7: Awakening

    The dragon erupted from flesh and bones, a massive creature covered in shining black scale with red highlights and glow from beneath. Its head reared back in a roar, and the force of the shift shook and shattered the temple walls. Ancient stone crumbled as his colossal form expanded, his long form unfurling with a deafening crack as it crashed against the stone.

    The priestesses screamed, scattering like frightened birds as debris rained down. Some were not quick enough¡ªMira caught glimpses of robes swallowed by the falling stone, their wearers silenced in an instant. Splashes of crimson coated the floor. The sanctuary, once sacred, now trembled under the sheer force of the dragon¡¯s presence.

    Lazroth shouted, his voice barely audible over the chaos, guiding those who could still move to safety. Faliam, carried by the priestess, strained to look back, whimpering out for his son in hopes he could hear and his thin words would matter. They did not. Haros was gone and the Legacy had awakened.

    Meanwhile, the chosen girls, those meant to be his partners, desperately wielded their magic, their hands glowing with subdued golden light. Ringlets and strings of magic twisted and entangled around the beast but did little to quell the rage. Their spells lashed out as their chanting rose, attempting to bind him, but Haros became the Legacy unlike anyone before him¡ªhis power wild, his instincts unchecked. He tossed his head, snapping his jaws, shattering spells as if they were mist.

    The girl he had chosen stood frozen, wide-eyed, trembling. Her name was unknown, but at that moment, she was someone. A person facing the impossible. How could she conquer a dragon, a beast as massive as this? She was meant to be the one to subdue him, to complete the ritual and stabilize his transformation¡ªbut fear held her paralyzed. She wasn¡¯t the one for this, she heard no call or song that guided her magic. The only thing in her ears was the ringing from broken glass and stone.

    Mira¡¯s pulse hammered as she dodged another falling rock. If no one acted, Haros would destroy everything. Dragons were wild, godly creatures. They needed the balance of magic to keep them. And so, the decision made itself. She bolted toward the ritual table where ancient anthology laid open, yanking it from its pedestal, flipping through brittle pages until she found what she needed. She barely skimmed the incantation before throwing the book aside.

    She knew the spell. Her mother had her learn it over and over again. It would bind the beast, that was certain. Mira, sprinting toward the ceremonial knife lying near the cowering priestess, leaped over a fallen woman and slid on the side of her foot, tearing her precious royal robes. It didn¡¯t matter, though. They were just fabrics, and when it came to surviving, nothing so material could matter. Without hesitation, she snatched the blade, its edge still gleaming with untouched power.

    Haros roared, the sound shaking her bones as he twisted in agony. She barely dodged the lash of his tail as she reached his massive, shifting form. Somehow, he was still growing, still expanding, and the fury of the dragon grew with him. This was no normal shift. He was fighting for himself¡ªfighting the beast that sought to consume him. His eyes, blazing blue, locked onto hers for a moment, a flicker of recognition cutting through the storm. The dragon knew her. He knew her.

    Mira tightened her grip on the chain still wrapped around his form and pulled. ¡°Haros! Calm down!¡± she shouted, her voice barely above the chaos. ¡°Stop acting like a petulant child!¡±

    For one suspended moment, he stilled.

    Mira huffed, pleased with his obedience, and whispered the incantation under her breath, raising the knife. She slashed her palm open without hesitation, blood spilling freely. She clenched her jaw to hide the wince and pain and then pressed the blade in deeper to ensure the flow. With one last glance at him, she pressed her bloodied hand against his fanged maw.

    Magic surged. A wave of energy exploded outward from where she stood, so strong it sent the remaining priestesses stumbling back. The flood of power and light engulfed him, tangling around him and swarming her in a whirlwind of maddening command. Haros let out a strangled sound, his form faltering in metallic shivers, his entire body seizing as the ancient power took hold. The dragon thrashed one final time before his massive form collapsed inward, shifting, shrinking¡ªuntil Haros lay before her, human again, his bare chest rising and falling in labored gasps.

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    Mira fell to her knees beside him, breathless. ¡°I need you to do what I tell you now, Haros,¡± she murmured, lifting her trembling hand to his lips. Blood smeared his mouth, the scent thick in the air. ¡°Bite me, and don¡¯t let go until you can¡¯t hold on any longer.¡±

    Haros¡¯s eyes fluttered open, wild and unfocused, but found her dark gaze in an instant. Then, in one sudden movement, his hand shot up, gripping her wrist with startling strength. His mouth parted¡ªand then, without warning, his teeth clamped down on her hand.

    Mira gasped, pain lancing through her as his elongated fangs sank deep into her skin. A sharp, citric scent filled the air¡ªvenom. The sacred poison of the Legacy, and no other. Her vision blurred, a voice whispering in her head some distant promise that she would be alright, that she was safe. And she believed it as she collapsed against his chest, too weak to stay upright. The temple rumbled again, his body twisting beneath her, shifting form again.

    She barely had time to register it, to look up at the scales and dragon he¡¯d become, before darkness consumed her and the strength of life and magic slipped away.

    <hr>

    Lazroth stood among the wounded priestesses, this expression tight as he helped Ysara tend to the survivors. The temple sanctuary was littered with debris, the scent of scorched magic still thick in the air. The doors to the chamber glowed in burning hot iron, melded to seal shut. Ysara worked at a frantic pace, her hands trembling as she wrapped bandages around a young priestess¡¯s bleeding arm. Lazroth half whispered a direction, motioning to someone else gripping a twisted leg.

    At last, she broke. The High Priestess slammed her hands on the ground and stared at Lazroth. It didn¡¯t matter that he was nothing more than a teenage boy; he¡¯d taken command at the helm.

    ¡°We have to get her out of there!¡± Ysara demanded, her voice sharp with desperation. ¡°Mira is still inside!¡±

    Dynara, who had kneeled beside her injured husband, Faliam, like a nurse attending the wounded, looked up with cool detachment. ¡°She is a servant, and there¡¯s more than enough wounded and dying for us to deal with right here. It is not our priority to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Mother,¡± Lazroth interrupted, ¡°she¡¯s my friend, and she¡¯s a Styxin born, we can¡¯t just abandon her.¡±

    ¡°The doors are sealed,¡± she waved a hand. ¡°Your father is nearly gone, his breathing¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s trapped in there with the beast,¡± Ysara insisted. ¡°You do not know what price will be paid if¡ª¡±

    ¡°A servant girl dies?¡± Dynara spat and scoffed. ¡°Her life is nothing next to Faliam¡¯s, next to my son¡¯s, who need I remind you, is trapped in there right now with neither his partner nor a hope that he might return to himself if¡­ if¡­¡± Her eyes welled as her words dribbled away.

    ¡°He¡¯s going to be okay.¡± Lazroth set his hand on her shoulder, though he barely believed those words himself.

    ¡°Mira is no servant, you ice hearted bitch!¡± Ysara¡¯s voice cracked as she rose to her feet, eyes blazing. ¡°She serves her people. Because she is their queen. She has sealed herself in there with that¡­ monsterosity! Haros should have never been given that dragon. Never!¡±

    Silence slammed over them. Lazroth¡¯s breath caught in his throat, the weight of Ysara¡¯s words settling like stone in his chest. Queen of Styxis? Mira had said she was a Styxin heir, but he¡¯d thought it was in the same way as any other noble girl who wanted a little anonymity. Not that she carried a burden he couldn¡¯t understand, not in any real way. She wasn¡¯t any ordinary queen. She was the queen of an empire, the highest throne, the child stolen from the last queen and hidden from the world¡ªand they were friends.

    He turned to Ysara, voice low and urgent. ¡°What happened back there? Why did the doors seal. It was magic, wasn¡¯t it? That magic she used¡ªwhat was it?¡±

    Ysara swallowed hard, her face pale with fear. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she admitted, her fingers twisting in the bloodied fabric of her robes. ¡°Mira came to our temple, trained and powerful. We made her a servant to suppress it, but it was something ancient from her mother. I don¡¯t fully know what she is capable of, and I doubt she has any idea either, but I fear she may have used too much. That expulsion was a tidal force, one rarely survived. A Styxin¡¯s magic is not infinite¡ªit is drawn from life itself. If she¡¯s pushed beyond her limit, then her life is in mortal danger. Not just from the dragon. From herself. And without an heir¡­¡±

    Lazroth clenched his fists. He couldn¡¯t just stand here while she was trapped inside, possibly dying from saving them. He turned toward the burning temple doors, determination hardening his resolve. ¡°Then we have to get her out. Now. The Styxin and the balance depend on it.¡±

 Chapter 8: The Price to Pay

    Mira woke to warmth¡ªstifling, consuming, alive. The weight around her was not just of blankets or furs, but something larger, breathing, and powerful. The steady rise and fall beneath her cheek, the rhythmic pulse against her own, told her exactly where she had fallen. Like a tossed rag doll, she was sprawled over the coiled body of the Legacy. His immense form surrounded her like a fortress, shielding her from the world beyond the shattered temple.

    She shifted, slowly pushing herself up, body aching. In the dim light, she could make out the curved slope of his scaled back, the powerful ridges of his slumbering dragon form. Careful not to wake him, she crawled over his back and tail, her fingers brushing against the coarse texture of his hide. The movement sent a dull ache through her body, a reminder of just how weak she had been when she had last closed her eyes.

    It seemed she hadn¡¯t slept in days. Rather, she was passing out or fainting from fatigue. What more could she do when her entire days and some of her nights were spent trying to calm the beast that had become Haros. He was relentless and demanding, her magic providing the only amount of comfort to him. Mira couldn¡¯t blame him for that, but it didn¡¯t help how weak she¡¯d become from the efforts she made. He was in pain, unable to control the dragon. And she had given her blood in a promise to protect him, to keep him, and to stay with him¡ªas if she could have made herself leave.

    Haros was kind to her, and the look he had¡ªfear and uncertainty that called out to her like a desperate cry¡ªwasn¡¯t something she could ignore. He needed her, he called, and she answered. She stayed. Mira paused, looking back at the <mark>wyrm</mark>. He was surprisingly peaceful when he rested.

    At the threshold of the ruined doorway, a platter of food lay waiting. They had been leaving offerings as if placating a god. Or maybe it was to ensure neither of them starved in the transition. After all, Haros hadn¡¯t exactly been hospitable to anyone coming into the chamber since his shift. She could still remember how <mark>Lazroth</mark> and the guards had forced their way in, only for Haros to lose control and cast them out in a single, violent sweep of his tail, slamming the door closed again. It was worse the second time when they¡¯d tried to approach Mira to tend to her wounds. He snapped at them and ate one of the guards outright. Occupational hazard. No one would blame him when the Legacy was present and Haros had become almost dormant.

    Now and again, she saw flickers of him beneath the surface. He was trying his best, but the power of the beast was greater than most could handle. Besides, he was young. His family usually waited until at least twenty years of age, and even then, <mark>Ysara</mark> swore it took <mark>Faliam</mark> a long time to gain control. Expectations weren¡¯t exactly high for Haros. Still, Mira felt a pang of guilt for the destruction the well-meaning efforts brought. She had been too weak to lift a finger then, too consumed by the weight of her own reckless choices to do anything useful.

    Settling by the platter, she unwrapped a small portion of bread, chewing methodically. It was still soft, and that meant it had only just arrived. Hopefully, when Haros woke¡ªwith any luck in his human form¡ªhe would have something fresh to eat. It was only a hope, though. It had been days since he¡¯d changed back. Her fingers trembled as she examined her palm, where a deep, corded scar was forming. The wound had closed, but the mark of her choice remained. A reminder of where her future was bound.

    Haros would hate her for what she had done when he found out. The High Priestess would not forgive her, either. She had made a great mess of things on a moment of impulse, a response to a cry that touched her soul and had gone unheard by everyone else. She pressed a hand to her head. What was she thinking? It wasn¡¯t her place to step in and push the chosen priestess aside. This wasn¡¯t meant for her.

    A soft scrape sounded from the broken entrance, and Mira turned just as a familiar voice whispered through the silence. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±

    <mark>Ysara</mark>.

    A small container slid through the crack of the door, filled with more of the priestesses¡¯ salve. It was a warm concoction designed to speed the mending of torn flesh. Every army in the realm was eager to pay a fortune for it, and every priestess and practitioner was happy to pocket the profits. But it smelled awful. Mira hesitated before taking it, the cool ceramic soothing the ache in her hand. ¡°I am alright,¡± she murmured, her voice hoarse. ¡°Haros seems exhausted.¡±

    There was a pause. Then, <mark>Ysara</mark> spoke again. ¡°It has been almost three weeks, Mira.¡±

    Mira froze. Three weeks?

    Her grip tightened around the salve. Time had slipped away from her, lost in the haze of recovery and the unrelenting presence of the dragon who refused to let her leave. She drew a slow breath and, after a moment, spoke the words that had been weighing on her heart every quiet moment she had. ¡°<mark>Ysara</mark>, I need to tell you something. I¡­ I finished the rite.¡±

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    Silence stretched long and heavy. Mira listened carefully for any sort of shift, but none came. There was stillness and not even the faint sound of breathing. Then, <mark>Ysara¡¯s</mark> voice dropped, quiet and sharp. ¡°Did you do the forbidden? Did you, the Queen of <mark>Styxis</mark>, bind yourself to the royalty of another kingdom?¡±

    Mira closed her eyes. She knew why it was forbidden. The balance of power between kingdoms was delicate, maintained by the traditions that had stood for centuries. A <mark>Styxin</mark> queen was never to take a true king, only a consort. To bind herself in magic to another sovereign meant merging destinies that were meant to remain apart. He was bound for the throne, and he would be a true king. And she was queen. Yet they would not be able to be far from one another for too long. Her heart sank, reality sweeping in around her. It was a mistake. She could not have a king, and that was exactly what he would be, and she had no heir to claim the throne she had never once been allowed to sit on openly. It was a disaster.

    And yet¡­

    ¡°I had to,¡± Mira admitted. ¡°He called to me. I couldn¡¯t turn away.¡±

    A breath of laughter escaped from the other side of the door. ¡°When you were first delivered to the temple, your mother told me something,¡± <mark>Ysara</mark> said, voice filled with something unreadable. ¡°She said to trust you. That you were made to know your own path and nothing would stray you from it. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps your path is to break tradition, to end the cycle. Maybe he did call to you.¡±

    Mira swallowed. ¡°And what if I was wrong?¡±

    ¡°Then Haros is merely an unfortunate prince,¡± <mark>Ysara</mark> murmured. ¡°But something tells me he is more than that.¡±

    Mira did not respond. She let the silence carry <mark>Ysara¡¯s</mark> words away as she turned back to the slumbering dragon. Of all the stories her mother had told her about the <mark>Tandor¡¯s</mark> Promise, it had never once been about a great beast. It was always a promised prince, a great man who was ready to give everything he had for his people¡ªher people, their people. Haros wasn¡¯t that. He was kind but reckless. This was only a rock in the road to where she was headed.

    As she neared him, his form began to shift. Scales receded, shrinking away until only human skin remained. Haros lay before her, his body slick with sweat, his breaths uneven. Slowly, he turned, bleary eyes meeting hers. Fatigue was etched into his face, making him look even older than he was, and yet untouched by time.

    Mira exhaled in relief. His gaze was no longer clouded with the unnatural glow of the dragon¡¯s hold. He was himself again.

    Her heart twisted painfully. She could not stay. Not when he would soon wake, and the Legacy and relinquished its hold. The bond was complete, and there was nothing more she could offer for now.

    Leaning over him, she gently brushed his damp hair back, her fingers lingering against his fevered skin. He was handsome, even in slumber. Her gaze traced down the sharp angles of his features and settled on his lips. Her heart skipped. Something within her yearned to know what it would be like to kiss him, what it would feel like to have him kiss her in return. The urge swelled until it was nearly overwhelming, but she held herself back. It wasn¡¯t right. He wouldn¡¯t remember it, and it would only ever haunt her. Instead, she whispered, ¡°I will protect you.¡±

    Haros turned his head, eyes peeling open into narrow slits and gave a dazed, exhausted smile. ¡°I will never leave you.¡±

    Then he was asleep again.

    Mira hesitated only a moment longer before unfastening the chains that had bound his wrists and laid across his body to restrain him. The metal clanked as it hit the floor. It was over. He had accepted the inheritance. Mira turned, stepping through the broken doors, and left the sanctuary and Haros behind.

    <hr>

    Haros stood atop a jagged peak, overlooking the vast expanse of the Strait of <mark>Styxis</mark>. The distant waters lapped in waves to the shore. Birds drifted on the ocean breeze, and the faint scent of the vanilla flowers along the shore met his keened senses. Everything was brighter, smelled stronger, and tasted better. The world was more alive than ever. Even the air was sharp, bristling with the scent of salt and storm.

    His hands clenched at his sides, his thoughts no longer his own. Every flicker of anger, every pulse of longing was tainted by the Legacy¡¯s hunger. It was a divine and desperate desire surging like the tide within him. Haros breathed through another heavy wave, and a roar echoed in his ears. The beast did not see Mira¡¯s departure as choice, it didn¡¯t understand why she was gone or why the magic it so craved had been ripped away¡ªit saw it as theft.

    In his grip, an invitation crumpled under the force of his hold. The <mark>Styxin</mark> coronation. Another duty. Another chain. How could he be expected to dress up and play the part of a prince while the dragon he bore consumed his every thought and desire? It hungered; he craved. It wanted; he needed. And what did it even matter to go to some coronation for a queen who¡¯d hid from the world all these years? She didn¡¯t care, and so, neither did he. Besides, the Legacy needed Mira. He needed her.

    Scales rippled across his forearm, his control slipping. <mark>Styxis</mark> was too far; the temples of the Priestess Order were too far. The magic between them was weakening, and he was starving for it. He could feel the void where she had been, the unbearable distance between them. He would not accept it.

    Haros straightened, resolve hardening into something unbreakable. He would find her, even if he had to search every temple from the <mark>Tandor</mark> Mountains to the <mark>Styxin</mark> Castle. There was no question about it. He would set things right, and there would be peace with the Legacy, with Mira. But right now, he needed her, and neither he nor the Legacy could understand why she had gone¡ªwhy she was pulled from him. He could fix this, then no one would take her away from him again.

 Chapter 9: Coronation

    The air in <mark>Styxis</mark> crackled with expectation, chatter from the people filling the streets, music from bands drifting like clouds, and sparks of magic shooting in colorful display. Nobility from across the known world had gathered within the great halls, murmuring <mark>amongst</mark> themselves, speculating about the unknown heir set to claim the throne. It had been a long time since anyone had visited, not since the unspeakable misfortune of their late queen. Among them, Haros and <mark>Lazroth</mark> stood draped in the finery of Edithir, their presence a necessity at such a historic moment. Only a fool would have missed it.

    Haros adjusted the cuffs of his royal suit, rolling his shoulders as he took in the grandeur of the <mark>Styxin</mark> court. The decorations and living troves of plants found nowhere but this island invited the guests to awe in their presence. And many did, but nerves were not so easily settled. The tension in the air was palpable, a mixture of curiosity and unease. Whispers floated through the chamber like drifting embers, each voice contributing to the growing intrigue surrounding the heir¡¯s identity. A daughter, of course, but no one had ever seen her, and her name as unknowable as the wind.

    A smooth voice interrupted his thoughts. ¡°Quite the spectacle, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Haros turned to see a young man standing beside him, dressed in the silks of <mark>Tallus</mark>, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. <mark>Shamine</mark>, the youngest heir to the <mark>Tallus</mark> throne.

    <mark>Shamine¡¯s</mark> smirk widened as he continued, ¡°One must wonder, with all the intrigue shrouding this so-called heir, if the <mark>Styxin</mark> hold is slipping. You remember Queen <mark>Madelena</mark>, don¡¯t you? Saucy woman, met a tragic end in the forest of your lands. Isn¡¯t that what it was, drowned?¡± He clucked an unspoken accusation. ¡°And what a pitiful shame, her unborn child¡ªwell, surely it was stolen from her if we¡¯re all here today.¡±

    Haros clenched his jaw.

    <mark>Shamine</mark> chuckled, feigning innocence. ¡°Or perhaps you hadn¡¯t come to that conclusion on your own. <mark>Madelena¡¯s</mark> child was lost, and this heir is likely some second-best niece. Either way, even if the gods had chosen mercy for the unborn princess, today, she becomes queen. And if she is of a good age, perhaps I will win her over and break tradition. Wouldn¡¯t that be something? The first king of <mark>Styxis</mark>.¡±

    Disgust curled in <mark>Haros¡¯s</mark> stomach. <mark>Shamine</mark> was slimy and foul, never destined to take the throne of his own people and constantly wriggling after the high seats of every other royal. Worse, he¡¯d set his sights on a girl no one knew anything about, which made his blood boil. An innocent girl, set to take a throne before her matured year. A child. Haros opened his mouth to retort, but <mark>Lazroth</mark> placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Diplomatic as always.

    ¡°We have all wondered the fate of <mark>Styxis</mark> since the queen¡¯s untimely fate, haven¡¯t we, Haros? I can only imagine the sort of struggle she has lived with and the restraint she has had to keep for the sake of her safety and people. You¡¯ve only just managed to control the Legacy. I¡¯m sure you can empathize with the heir.¡± <mark>Lazroth</mark> smiled, clapping his brother¡¯s shoulder again and leaning closer, ¡°Perhaps a bottle or eight of wine will help you¡­ relax.¡±

    Haros exhaled sharply, shaking off <mark>Shamine¡¯s</mark> presence with <mark>Lazroth¡¯s</mark> hand. ¡°Politics aside, I¡¯d rather keep company with the refreshments that keep the bitter taste in my mouth from not spitting on your face.¡±

    ¡°An absolute disgrace as always,¡± <mark>Shamine</mark> called as Haros retreated, unbothered and refusing to dignify him by looking back.

    <mark>Lazroth</mark> sighed, watching his brother keep his thin composure as he skulked away, seeking the solace of intoxication. Haros snatched a bottle from the table and peeled around the corner and out the door to the garden terrace. He threw back the wine, gulping it down like water. Then he took another. The haze of <mark>Styxin</mark> drink dulled his simmering anger, and in his drunken wandering, it led him to an attractive servant girl with bright eyes and a teasing smile.

    A creeping smile spread over his lips, and his word spilled out in a slur. Did she care that he was falling over himself? Not really, and she¡¯d shown her amicable spirit with how easily she dropped her dress and opened her legs for him. Haros delighted in pleasuring her, the sounds she made as he lapped up her heated core, and the way she squirmed when he entered her. Those sounds, the soft gasps and moans, were more intoxicating than the wine. Still, it was over too soon, and he slung and arm around her shoulders, lighting a cigarette dangling from his lips, and then pressed a kiss to her cheek in hopes she would stay long enough for another round.

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    She did.

    <hr>

    Mira stood within the sanctum, her heart steady, her expression composed and unreadable. The world was waiting for her, but she was not waiting for the world. Things had been so simple for years. No one knew her, and at the Academy she walked through the campus as ordinary as the day. There were gawking stares or whispers the way there had been in the temple. No one had any preconceived ideas of the sort of woman she was or was meant to be one day. But that paradise was only a dream.

    <mark>Ysara</mark> moved around her, fussing with ceremonial dress and all the intricate layers in entailed, listing expectations like a well-rehearsed litany. But Mira was barely listening. Her senses stretched beyond the room, reaching for something unseen. A call in the distance she nearly recognized and something¡­ something felt off. A strange warmth coiled in her stomach, foreign and familiar. Her breath strained, a hum of pleasure and pain in her throat. She swallowed it down, not knowing where it should go, but it sank as deep as it could, and the sort of discomfort it created made her writhe back and forth before the mirror.

    <mark>Ysara</mark> stopped, watching her carefully. After years of attending ceremonial inheritances for lesser and partial dragons, she knew what she saw. The bond had taken between them, and it was by no measure thin. ¡°You feel him, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Mira swallowed, shifting her stance with stiff shoulders and rosy cheeks. She had tried to ignore it, but the bond between her and Haros was undeniable. He invaded her dreams, and flashes of a future she didn¡¯t recognize came with him. There were whispers in the dark, the warmth of his breath on her skin, and the chill of cooling blood on her hands. Then in the day, flashes of indecencies haunted her. Drugs, booze, breasts, and the taste of something very specific that she was certain she knew but hoped against hope was not what he¡¯d made into a feast. She knew it was, though. His reputation preceded him on that matter. Regardless of whatever he was doing, she was aware of it¡ªan unbearable, intimate awareness that burned through her.

    And if the rumors were true, even half of them, then he was getting his fill of some pretty little thing he¡¯d found in middle of the guests to occupy his time¡ªa habit that had formed in her absence in the last few months. Guilt echoed through her. The Legacy, like all dragons, had its hunger, and if she¡¯d been there, perhaps it would have been curbed. No, she told herself, it was in part Haros on his own. He¡¯d developed a taste for the pleasures of the world early¡­ the dragon had made it worse.

    <mark>Ysara</mark> took Mira by the arms, steadying her. ¡°You need to focus. Whatever Haros is doing, whatever deals must be made with Edithir, will be addressed later. Arrangements have already been made with King <mark>Faliam</mark> and Queen <mark>Dynara</mark>. For now, the only concern is this coronation, your highness.¡±

    Mira¡¯s lips parted. ¡°Why is Haros not invited?¡±

    ¡°To the meeting?¡± <mark>Ysara¡¯s</mark> expression softened. ¡°If you want him there, you may command it. This is your castle, your kingdom, your rule. The arrangements made were only in consideration of title and are as pliable as you so decide. We are at your service, my queen.¡±

    Mira drew in a breath, steadying herself. The warmth within her had not subsided, and her thoughts were growing increasingly clouded with sensations that were not her own. But she had no time for distractions. She was about to claim her throne. Mira turned her back to the mirror and High Priestess, a sudden gasp racing down to her stomach and a glorious unwinding and bursting tingle radiated through her. Panting and clutching her middle, she looked back at <mark>Ysara</mark>. The woman smiled, knowing exactly what it was that had happened.

    At least she didn¡¯t feel nearly as tense, albeit tired.

    <hr>

    Haros stumbled out of the chamber, his shirt rumpled and <mark>untucked</mark>, his body heavy with the scent of sex and wine. He barely managed to straighten himself, ruffling his hair into a controlled mess, before stepping back into the grand hall, where silence had fallen like a guillotine.

    The doors at the far end, atop the grand dais, had opened. The curtains pulled back and the guards stepped out in straight rows carrying the banner of the <mark>Styxin</mark> Empire. First, after, were the noble women in lieu of ladies in waiting, and then came the priestess of the temple. Last with the High Priestess, <mark>Ysara</mark>.

    Haros stepped forward, craning to see above the crowds, his jaw dangling in his efforts. There, at the heart of the congregation, she appeared. The thin layers of her dress rippled and danced around her. The soft curls of her hair bobbed with her even step, and the light from enchanted candles reflected in her eyes like the magic she so easily wielded.

    Haros stopped in his tracks, the drunken fog in his mind evaporating in an instant. The feeling he had before¡ªa faint attraction he dared to qualify as blossoming love¡ªpaled in comparison to the sheer force of what struck him now.

    Mira.

    Queen of <mark>Styxis</mark>.

    His breath hitched, and for the first time in his life, Haros felt truly, utterly <mark>unmoored</mark>.

 Chapter 10: Bondage

    Not all meetings were in the open air of the throne room. This one was one of them. The air thickened with electric tension in the privacy of an office with walls lines with books and curtains firmly drawn shut. Mira sat across from King <mark>Faliam</mark> and Queen <mark>Dynara</mark>, her posture poised yet rigid. Traces of her gold ceremonial makeup still highlighted her eyes and stained her fingertips. The weight of her new title pressed against her, but the conversation at hand was heavier than her crown. Across from her, the ruling pair of Edithir regarded her with cautious eyes, their expressions betraying their internal deliberations.

    The bond between her and Haros could no longer be ignored, and in the months that had run by too quickly, it was but a matter of time before it was known to everyone. The coronation, though, had sealed her fate in <mark>Styxis</mark>, but it changed nothing about how bound she was, irrevocably to the prince¡ªa fact that neither court could afford to mishandle. The wrong eyes, the wrong tone on the matter would spark a war they wouldn¡¯t survive, even as the highest thrones.

    ¡°Due to the ceremonies and traditions to follow,¡± Mira began, her voice measured, ¡°I cannot return to school for some time. Arrangements are in place, of course, for private tutoring, but such obligations here dictate my stay. However, Haros has shown remarkable control over the Legacy tonight, especially now in my presence compared to when I¡¯d seen him. It would be best if he returned ahead of me; then I will join him as soon as I am able, and in our free time, I will oversee his training as expected in partnerships.¡±

    King <mark>Faliam</mark> exhaled slowly, exchanging a glance with his wife. ¡°And what about the bond? It is not something that we can hide forever.¡± He turned an eye to the queen his opposite. ¡°It¡¯s already conspicuous that the time you¡¯ve spent with our son far exceeds what would have been offered to any other inherent. How could it in any other way be explained besides favoritism of the crown?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps I am not the queen of reigns past. Besides, we do not need forever,¡± Mira countered. ¡°We need a reasonable explanation to shift attention and keep eyes where we need them¡ªa story that keeps suspicion at bay while allowing Haros to continue as planned.¡±

    <mark>Dynara</mark> folded her hands in thought. ¡°What do you propose?¡±

    Mira¡¯s expression remained firmly unreadable. ¡°We use a stand-in. A priestess, someone untrained, someone who can play the part convincingly. That will give Edithir a reason to express concern and allow me to oversee Haros and his ¡®partner¡¯ without drawing unwanted attention. A trustworthy classmate might well suffice.¡±

    <mark>Dynara</mark> hummed in thought, a slow smile curling her lips. ¡°A clever misdirection. But it may not be enough. A temporary fix to greater ruinous fracture to tradition.¡±

    ¡°Then we use propaganda,¡± she said simply. ¡°Spread the word that something went wrong with Haros. Play to his reputation, make it seem as though the incident was a result of his own instability. It will generate sympathy and lessen scrutiny. Long-term observations would come as a natural conclusion. People will ask fewer questions if they believe Edithir is struggling to contain the aftermath of his supposed failure and is forced to lean upon the guidance and aid of <mark>Styxin</mark> as all dragon lines have since first bestowed.¡±

    Haros leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. ¡°And what about Edithir? If my control is questioned, our standing weakens.¡±

    Mira turned to him, her lips parting to say or ask something, but the words didn¡¯t come soon enough.

    ¡°We need a long-term answer, your Majesty.¡± His eyes flitted over her, tracing her face and neck, then down to her chest and back again. The faintest hint of a smirk rose in the corner of his lips. ¡°I have a proposal¡ª¡±

    ¡°We will do what was must to maintain our position,¡± the king interrupted. <mark>Faliam</mark> met <mark>Haros¡¯s</mark> gaze evenly. ¡°If Edithir takes the fall, it will be short, and we will recover. We announce that my health was declining more than we made public before, that I pressured you, that I chose the wrong partner for you because you were too young, you weren¡¯t ready, and that the inheritance went awry as a result. It places the blame squarely on my shoulders and shifts the focus away from the truth. I have held a successful reign, more prosperous than my father, and to admit that I put the well-being of all the kingdom ahead of you, ashamed of my faltering, they will be fast to forgive. People always are with things that look altruistic enough.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll lie to them?¡± <mark>Haros¡¯s</mark> eyes narrowed. He shook his head and turned to Mira. ¡°How many lies do you think you can tell before the truth slips out? Wouldn¡¯t it be easier if I married you? At least then when you are inevitable fucked, it¡¯ll at least be enjoyable.¡±

    ¡°Haros!¡± <mark>Dynara</mark> snapped.

    Haros smirked but said nothing more as he eased back in his seat.

    Mira studied him, trying to decide if he was serious or if this was another burst of rebellion he¡¯d become famous for¡ªlashing out and introducing some wicked, lewd <mark>absurdism</mark> that was a coin toss away from becoming reality. ¡°Deception, concealment, is necessary for the safety of a kingdom at times and can require a great deal of commitment,¡± she assured. ¡°And I am committed to whatever lengths are necessary for my people and yours. The alternative is far worse.¡±

    Haros licked his lips, shifting excitedly. ¡°Would you marry me to protect our people?¡±

    She looked to him again, her eyebrows dipping for a moment, as if asking if he was serious, but the scent of wine drifting off him and the way he chuckled, told her that was anything but serious. It was a ploy to get the meeting to end sooner. Mira turned to <mark>Faliam</mark>, raising her chin. ¡°We will employ our ruse and assess its progress by the end of the school year and plan for the months between then and next school year.¡±

    Silence stretched between them, tense yet filled with understanding. Finally, Haros exhaled sharply and nodded. ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll do it your way, but it won¡¯t be half as exciting.¡±

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    ¡°The point isn¡¯t your amusement,¡± <mark>Faliam</mark> growled at his son, and in return was met with a roll of his eyes. It wasn¡¯t his fault for his attitude. He knew that. The Legacy had a way of amplifying its holder¡¯s traits and intruding on ones they¡¯d not had before. Haros had truly bonded with it, and at any given moment, it was unclear who was at the helm of the vessel that was his son.

    <mark>Dynara</mark> smirked, restraining a laugh at the contention between the men too familiar with the dragon of their family line. She coyly addressed Mira, ¡°Surely we will have to ensure the stories are particularly tragic to garner the most sympathy. A comedy of errors.¡±

    Mira allowed herself the smallest of smiles and nodded in a single affirmative of agreement. The stage was set, the roles assigned. Now, all that remained was for them to play their parts flawlessly. And Haros to not push his luck too far. They were partners, and that was no implication of anything more, no matter what the Legacy whispered to him.

    <hr>

    Haros leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest as he stood in the dimly lit corridor. The meeting hadn¡¯t gone how he had expected; the plan for his future was based more on the theatrics his mother would enjoy than any sort of reason. What had he expected, though? Mira didn¡¯t have her head on straight. He could smell it, the tang drift from her and the stress of a coronation and the appearances she had to keep up. But that tang¡ªthat sweet, lustful scent¡ªheld his attention more than anything she said.

    There it was again. He lifted his head as she stepped out of her office, gently pulling the doors shut. Why she had needed the privacy for as long as she had was neither important nor of interest to him, but he¡¯d waited for her all the same. Mira glided down the hall, her head high, barely glancing at him as she passed. The bitter smell of audacity drifted from her. Without thought or hesitation, he reached out, grabbing her wrist. His fingers tightened and dragged her into the shadows. His eyes burned with intensity, his voice quieter but no less demanding.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what my parents say. We both know people aren¡¯t stupid. So what happens when this plan runs its course?¡± he asked. ¡°What happens when we graduate? I can¡¯t be your makeshift ward forever, darling.¡±

    Mira stiffened, the bond between them stirring with vicious whirls of thrill and a strange tension, pulling her into the undercurrent of his emotions¡ªhis frustration, his anxiety, and beneath it all, something darker, something hotter like a star burning through the night. It hit her like a rush of heat, spreading through her limbs and setting her nerves alight. Her own emotions wavered, lips parting and a quiver in her jaw. Her breath hitched as she stepped closer, her fingers curling down to brush along the edge of his hand. Something in the warmth of his breath drew her in.

    ¡°What are you proposing?¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Marry me,¡± he said, plain and simple, as if there was no other logical conclusion.

    ¡°Haros,¡± she snapped back, blinking as her senses suddenly returned. ¡°There is no reason to jump to brash decisions¡ª¡±

    ¡°The plan won¡¯t work forever, and you know it.¡± He released her wrist, pretending he didn¡¯t notice the way she¡¯d gasped or the cracks in her composure that she had so readily tried to hide with her thin accusation of his haste. ¡°Think of it as¡­ politically strategic. An unstable dragon in need of constant supervision from the <mark>Styxin</mark> Queen? How long could that last before some scandalous¡­¡± he paused, eyes find hers, and a smirk curling on his feature, viperous and alluring, ¡°lascivious, entirely delicious,¡± his voice lowered as his finger slipped beneath her chin, drawing her in, ¡°rumor spreads about you¡­ spreading your thin little legs for me¡­¡±

    Mira breathed in, trying to rein in her senses. She stepped back, building a space between them. To say she didn¡¯t find him attractive and dangerously seductive she would have been lying. And as much as she wanted to give into the temptation he offered, it would have been a mistake. He didn¡¯t love her, and the entirety of his draw to her had only to do with the dragon thirsting for the magic she had promised it in a bond she should have never made. And yet she had been wholly unable to stop herself¡­ he needed her, called to her, and she¡¯d answered because it had been him.

    ¡°We will stick to the plan we agreed to, Haros. The plan I have set as queen.¡± She looked at him squarely, sliding on the mask of placidity. ¡°I was raised for this. I know what I am doing. Do not question my decision again.¡±

    She turned swiftly, retreating down the hall before he could press her further, leaving him standing in the corridor, baffled by the sudden shift in her demeanor. How was it she could threaten the very beating of his heart and run a sword through him in one fell motion? He turned curtly the other way. She didn¡¯t see the flaw in her design. Long-term, there would be sparks flying of salacious speculations, but it wouldn¡¯t be for their frequent visits. It would be because of him. He was not ignorant of the way he looked at her or that everyone around him could see it. His friends had made that clear, and his <mark>Lazroth</mark> had done his best to hide it when he¡¯d sent him to drink at the coronation. The flare of jealousy at little more than a nobody prince¡¯s idle musings was a warning of what was to come.

    <hr>

    Mira stormed into her chamber, slamming the door behind her before sinking to the floor, her breath coming in ragged bursts. Her finger raked through her hair and tangled in notes as she threw her crown aside and screamed into her knees. Still, her entire body trembled, the bond humming through her veins, igniting something unbearable within her. This was not merely the bond of dragon, surely it couldn¡¯t be! Something like this was too much. How did any partner tolerate it, never mind placate the dragon they were meant to control?

    Every breath came like gulping fire. She could feel everything: his desire, sharp and consuming, and worse¡ªher own had been awakened in response. Her nerves stood on end, begging to be touched by his fingertips, soothed by lips, and embraced by his body¡¯s invitation. Yet such splendor was not without a price. A price she couldn¡¯t afford to pay. He was the prince of Edithir, the highest throne of the dragon, and even the bond they had was forbidden. Or at least it had been.

    Another burning wave seared through her, and she curled tighter into herself. It was too much, too soon. She wasn¡¯t ready for this. And yet, her body did not care for reason, only instinct. That was the problem, though. What violent storm of desire brewed in her wasn¡¯t the fault of the bond alone. Sure, Haros had his proclivities¡ªaddictions in the making, it seemed¡ªbut she had been designed for these cravings. These lecherous wants.

    The truth of the matter was that of nature. The closer a <mark>Styxin</mark> woman came to full maturation, the stronger the drive became, an agonizing need to produce a daughter. It was why their kind bore numerous children, often exceeding a dozen with a comfortable ease that no other women experienced. Daughters were essential, and they were wired to want to produce them despite their lower birthrate. Sons, though plentiful and readily born, did not share the same connection to the <mark>Styxin</mark> magic nor the same compulsion to breed. But for her, the ache was all-consuming.

    There was no mistake about it, the breeding period was upon her.

    Her hands clenched the fabric of her gown as she tried to resist the inevitable pull, but the pain built to a fever pitch, her body betraying her. The bond was cruel, feeding off their proximity, their emotions, their desires. And before she could stop herself, her vision darkened, her body trembling violently as the unbearable heat consumed her. Mira shut her eyes, sliding her hand beneath her skirt. It was a cheap, easy release, but at least it would relieve the discomfort. If only in the short-term.

 Chapter 11: The Reckoning

    Haros reclined on the plush cushions of the worn-out couch, the air thick with smoke and the sharp scent of wine. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, blinking away the dull haze in his mind. Yvin lay beside him, her legs tangled with his in careless abandon, her breath shallow but steady. They had paused between rounds of indulgence, a momentary respite from their reckless, endless cycle. Yet, pressed to her stomach, his cock was already halfway to another round. It seemed there would be no peace today. Not for her, and certainly not for him.

    The weight of his reputation pressed on him¡ªdrunk, addict, sexual deviant¡ªnearly as much as the dragon¡¯s insatiable appetite. If he didn¡¯t know any better, it sought to breed and intended to use his body as the vessel for a clutch of mixed halfbreed dragons. Which was something he wasn¡¯t necessarily certain could happen. The Legacy was inherited, but then again, there were¡­ changes that had happened since the inheritance, and perhaps that meant the dragon could breed out. Not that he was in the business of advertising the changes. It wasn¡¯t as if he had a clear understanding of how it happened or had any control over it, but it was a bit of a nuisance when it did.

    One cock, hard and sensitive, was already a problem. The second, which would appear with little to no warning, made the first problem substantially worse. But gods, when Yvin let him fuck her with both, there was nothing better than the release of one dick and then the other a half second later. It was even better when she let him use her ass after he¡¯d spent himself in her cunt.

    Of course, the rising tide of need and cock had done nothing to curb the opinions of those who watched him chasing high and whores. Their cruel tongues were quick to call him every unflattering name they could think of¡ªnone of it undeserved. He¡¯d earned those titles and wore them like badges of honor. The wayward prince, drowning it tits, dicks, drinks, and trouble.

    Haros had played the role so well, losing himself in the desires he could never outrun. But, in a strange way, it had worked. Every slipped story his parents fed the masses were readily believed, thanks to his¡­ performance, which was never once complained about by anyone he¡¯d taken to bed or wherever they decided was suitable for a scandalous adventure in pleasure. He could eat a pussy on his knees, or suck a cock in the back of a theater with equal easy to bending either over and fucking them against a kitchen counter. It didn¡¯t matter because, in the end, the most important part was watching his partner orgasm. Something about it sent him right over the edge, and nothing else felt as good.

    Then there was Yvin. This bitch could come at a crosswind, or go for days riding his cock and still be too wet to get off. An impressive feat. And damn, she was constantly in need of a solid fuck, or fifty, ever since Danren left. He was away, fulfilling his military ambitions¡ªwhich were something of an obligation to pay his way through the Academy. It wasn¡¯t a betrayal, though. The three of them had shared this pact for so long now. Danren knew what they did¡ªhe even seemed to accept it, understanding that Haros was trapped under the yoke of the Legacy, and that Yvin, with her beauty and strength, could handle his insatiable hunger.

    Or it was Danren¡¯s way of saying her libido was more than he could handle, much like her breasts. Haros stared at the way they moved as Yvin repositioned herself against his side, cum smearing between her thighs. There was a lot he enjoyed about it, but it was her constant hunger for cock that kept him coming back. She knew exactly how to please him and herself. He almost felt guilty not paying her, but she insisted that what he did for her was payment enough. Which was interesting, because the whores he¡¯d entertained and the Tamber Royals Club had said the same thing. His hand slid down, idly stroking himself to full erection at the thought of the sheer number of women, and countless men, he¡¯d enjoyed in such a short time.

    Haros shifted, and too did his thoughts. A mingling of uncertainty and confusion filled his head as he wandered back to what he¡¯d compartmentalized as ¡®unfinished business¡¯. That was the only way to think about it with getting pissed off immediately. The plan was idiotic, and no matter how well it had been working, it was failing at the same rate. How much longer could he cram handfuls of drugs down his throat, washing it down with liquor, and stick his dick in whatever willing hole was around? Did everyone think he could keep it up until they were damn well and ready to own the truth? Fuck. He was barely sleeping anymore. Worse was the haunting thought of how blank her face had been when he¡¯d asked her¡ªfoolishly and for no sensible reason¡ªto marry him.

    Why would she want to? They hardly knew each other if he was being right and fair about it. He¡¯d never even touched her more than he¡¯d touched anyone else up until recently¡ªrelatively. Not to say he didn¡¯t want to, but he wasn¡¯t disrespectful. She didn¡¯t want him. The way she looked at him said everything. She saw him in the same light as everyone else: the failed prince. Hell, if things had been different, she wouldn¡¯t have thrown herself into his path. That was on him. He shouldn¡¯t have had the doubt he did, and when he looked up and saw her there with those gorgeous brown eyes and the worry he felt reflecting in them, his heart screamed out, desperate for her to¡ª

    ¡°Have you seen her? Mira?¡± Yvin shifted beside him, her voice sharp but soft.

    Haros blinked, his mind snapping into focus as the name registered. Mira. He furrowed his brow. ¡°Mira? You mean Mira Salanmar from Biology?¡± His tone carried a hint of crude amusement as he recalled the last time they had met¡ªa drunken, far too public display of passion. She had a hell of a voice, and he made her sing louder than the slap of his thighs against her ass. No doubt she¡¯d broken a few nails gripping the wall as her legs shivered and she came so hard she nearly shot his cock out her pussy. That was something he¡¯d never experienced before and doubted he would again. Normally, it felt more like he was about to be trapped in there forever¡ªnot that he would complain about such a thing, but he had places to be most of the time. ¡°I¡¯ve seen her,¡± Haros said, the implication heavier than before.

    Yvin, ever sharp in her reprimands, slapped his chest lightly and threw a leg over his hips to hoist herself in a straddle over him. ¡°Not that Mira, Haros. I mean Mira. The Mira. The one you¡¯re supposed to be playing keeper and ward with.¡±

    Haros tensed at the shift in tone and the way her arousal made her slide so effortlessly over his cock and fingers. He rolled his hand over, slipping into her and curling in the right place. She hummed, both amused and pleased by the way his fingers worked through her and his thumb pressed to her clit in circles. A flicker of something unfamiliar stirred in him as he watched her breasts move with the thrusts of her hips. Something possessive sparked to life as his mind drifted ever so slightly away.

    ¡°Oh,¡± he breathed. ¡°My Mira.¡± The words slipped out before he could stop them.

    Yvin raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling her lips. ¡°Oh, so it¡¯s like that, huh? When are you going to ask her on a proper date?¡±

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The question lingered in the air, light yet piercing. Haros let out a soft, frustrated breath, reclaiming his hand and staring up at the woman grinding on his dick as if begging for an answer to a question he didn¡¯t yet know how to ask. ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s interested in me, Yvin,¡± he confessed, his voice quieter now. ¡°She barely writes to me. The last time I saw her, she avoided me like I was the plague. She¡¯s¡­ distant.¡± His voice wavered as if he were trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

    It was his fault, though. If he hadn¡¯t pushed the matter that night, she would have been more amicable to him. Even the first training under the direction of Ysara had been¡­ stiff. Not just because he¡¯d been wielding a boner all morning that he¡¯d not had a chance to resolve, but because Mira had made such an effort to keep a space between them so obvious even the High Priestess had to correct her. There was no practical way to share magic from across a room when neither of them had ever done it before. Baby steps, she¡¯d told them. They had to trust each other. Yet Mira didn¡¯t seem to think enough of him to make an effort unless it was imposed upon her.

    Yvin studied Haros for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed his words. She tilted her head thoughtfully. ¡°She probably has a lot on her plate. New duties, new pressures. It must be overwhelming trying to balance everything. She probably doesn¡¯t know how to deal with you¡ªsomeone so¡­ different from her world. Think about it Haros, she¡¯s spent her whole life isolated in that temple, preparing for this. She doesn¡¯t have the same experiences as you. As us.¡±

    Haros ran a hand through his hair, his gaze unfocused. ¡°Maybe. I don¡¯t know.¡± He shifted uncomfortably, trying to push away the ache in his chest. He couldn¡¯t explain it. Mira had always been a mystery, something unreachable, and the more he tried to reach for her, the farther she slipped away. ¡°She¡¯s sort of bitch.¡±

    Yvin smirked, relaxing as she took his harsh words to mean the conflict in his heart was greater than his desire for her body. ¡°You sound like you like her.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± he lied, the skip of his heart betraying him. ¡°Read my fortune,¡± he said suddenly, the words coming out with a sense of urgency. ¡°Maybe it¡¯ll help me understand what the hell is going on.¡±

    Yvin raised an eyebrow but smiled knowingly. The only time he had faith in magic was when reason ran out. ¡°You¡¯re desperate, aren¡¯t you?¡± she teased. But she didn¡¯t need any more prompting. Her fingers slid over his palm, tracing the lines with practiced ease.

    ¡°Read my fortune, whore,¡± he growled, taking hold of her hips and thrusting beneath her in a clear message of how he intended to pay her.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°But only if you fuck me again.¡±

    He didn¡¯t hesitate, lifting her only enough to let his cock rise and slip into her. Her eyes rolled back as he brought her down over his length until he could enter her no further. She groaned, rocking with him as he entertained her desires. The need for distraction surged, and he sat up to kiss her, his lips urgent as his thoughts clouded with confusion and longing for someone else. Someone he knew he couldn¡¯t have.

    Yvin trembled and quaked as she desperately tried to keep her mind on his hand, the lines, and the shimmering threads of fortune and fate scried along them in the weave of magic. Her voice came soft and strained, ¡°You¡¯re destined for a love that will live beyond the stars, Haros. But it will come at a great cost.¡±

    His mind barely registered the words as he sank deeper into her, every pump a little more uneven than the one before. But when she continued, her voice low and serious, it cut through the fog.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t fear it,¡± she said, her fingers still tracing the lines on his palm. ¡°Because this lover you will trade your future, your fortune, and your name for¡ªalready loves you. She loved you before you even met.¡±

    Haros stiffened, cock twitching and spurting in a hard release. His breath hitched, mind clinging to her words, and the pleasure he¡¯d wanted to hold on to fading into something like dread. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like love. It sounds like fucking condemnation,¡± he muttered. ¡°How can you be in love with someone you haven¡¯t even met? Darling, I think I might have fucked the foresight out of you.¡±

    Yvin laughed softly, her voice light, as she gently moved off him. Her fingers smoothed between her thighs, drawing out the release he¡¯d left in her. ¡°And you call me a whore,¡± she muttered, then looked up at him with a smile. ¡°You know, Haros, the love between soulmates isn¡¯t always immediate or passionate. Sometimes, it takes time. And even then, it¡¯s not always the kind of love you imagine. It¡¯s deeper, more permanent. The connection between you two is ancient, even if you can¡¯t see it yet. And you¡¯ve only just begun to understand it.¡± She took his hand again and pointed to one of the lines. ¡°See, right here? This one says you¡¯re bound to this person before you ever realized it. You were designed for each other. Two halves of the same whole¡ªlove in its purest form, with a shape entirely undefined.¡±

    Haros felt a knot twist in his gut as the meaning of her words sank in. ¡°If I have a soulmate, Yvin, how is that going to work with¡­ our arrangement and Mira?¡± He swallowed hard, the thought unsettling him more than he wanted to admit.

    Yvin shrugged, her fingers still moving over his palm. ¡°Soulmates don¡¯t always look the way you think they should. Sometimes, they¡¯re strangers. Sometimes, they¡¯re siblings. Sometimes, they¡¯re lovers from a past life. Where you are in your life isn¡¯t going to make them less of your soulmate. It won¡¯t deter them or send them away. You¡¯re bound to each other. Besides, there are maybe a hundred soulmates in every generation, and you¡¯re destined to meet yours, but that doesn¡¯t mean it will happen in this lifetime.¡± She paused, letting the weight of her words settle between them. ¡°And love¡­ love isn¡¯t always about passion, Haros. It¡¯s about something more. Something deeper.¡±

    He stared at her, the words swirling in his head, but they didn¡¯t make sense. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can just wait for someone else. I already have to wait on the world to understand¡­this.¡± He waved a hand at himself, naked and finally flaccid. While he hadn¡¯t meant his literal body, she understood. Her hand fell to rest on his chest. Haros breathed a heavier sigh than he intended. ¡°What if I don¡¯t want my soulmate, and I just want to be with Mira?¡±

    Yvin gave him a sympathetic look. It was no secret between them how he felt about her, yet he struggled to say it out loud. He wanted Mira. She¡¯d been on his mind every day since he¡¯d returned to school, uninterrupted, which was impressive when he¡¯d already thought of her more than Yvin did Danren on any given day since he¡¯d met her as a boy. ¡°You have to be patient, Haros. A soulmate is¡­ complicated. Try not to think about it. Work with Mira, let things unfold. Be happy. And if you¡¯re meant to meet your true soulmate in this life, it will happen when the time is right. Not because you¡¯re trying to force it as a distraction from your feelings for Mira. You have to let things happen, and it will all work out in the end.¡±

    Haros sighed deeply, checking the time with a frown. ¡°I¡¯m late to pick up Lazroth,¡± he muttered, pushing up from the couch and collecting his clothes. ¡°His condition¡­ it¡¯s getting worse again.¡±

    Yvin nodded solemnly, a knowing look in her eyes. It happened every year. His breathing wasn¡¯t right, and it had something to do with the way he¡¯d been born, died, and was revived. He was lucky to be alive at all. ¡°Go. Be there for him, you whore. But don¡¯t stay trapped in the past. Focus on Mira. Focus on what you can control. And let the future come to you when it¡¯s ready.¡±

    Haros stood, pulling on his clothes with a sense of frustration and resignation. He couldn¡¯t stop the thoughts from swirling, the questions about Mira, the prophecy of the Styxin priestesses he¡¯d heard too much about recently¡ªTandor¡¯s Promise, and something about how he was an important part of it because of their queen¡ªand now, this mysterious soulmate he wasn¡¯t sure he was ready for.

    As he walked out, bidding Yvin a slight wave and promising to be back later, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder¡ªwas he strong enough to put Mira out of his mind and allow himself to find this future lover? Would the stars truly align, or was he destined to chase after a love that was always meant to slip through his fingers? Did he even believe in love?

    The uncertainty gnawed at him, but all he could do was keep moving forward.

 Chapter 12: The Unraveling

    Mira lay sprawled across her bed, her body tangled in the rich silken sheets. The ceiling had never looked so high and far away. Lifting a hand, she lazily reached for it, then let her arm fall back to the mattress. It wasn¡¯t for lack of want to get up, but rather she was too tired. Her skin was flushed, a slight sheen of sweat still lingering in the air, and her chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of her exhaustion. There was no getting up or doing much of anything. Not for a while, anyway.

    The guard beside her, fully dressed now, adjusted his uniform with a quiet precision, his movements swift and practiced. For his age, he was handsome, if not a bit plain. There wasn¡¯t much remarkable about him, but there almost was, and that was what had drawn her to him in the first place. He avoided looking at her, as did she at him¡ªthere was no need for more than the unspoken acknowledgment that had passed between them.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he said, his voice low, still tinged with the sharp edge of their recent indulgences. ¡°It will stay private, as always.¡± His eyes flickered to her with a mixture of fondness and duty.

    Mira nodded, her voice barely above a whisper, ¡°I will be leaving for the Academy soon¡­ You know what to do. Keep this to yourself.¡± She let out a breath, slightly disappointed. He was the sort of man she admired¡ªstrong, capable, responsible¡ªbut there was something in his dutifulness that pushed him further from her grasp. He was already promised to someone else. A fianc¨¦e, a child on the way¡­ the story was familiar, and it reminded her of what she couldn¡¯t have.

    A normal life.

    Quiet. Ordinary. Somewhere in the mountains, unbothered by duties.

    Mira turned over, thinking better of it. What would happen to her people? She couldn¡¯t abandon them simply because she wanted solitude and a simple life.

    The guard, put back together, gave a respectful bow and, with a final glance, left her room without a word.

    Sighing, Mira gathered herself, the heat of the moment now fading into the quieter, more sober reality of her thoughts. Sex was easy. It was quick and cheap when she wanted it, and he¡¯d been in no position to say no. Mira had noticed his lingering looks for some time, and a request from the queen¡­ he was eager to please her. He even offered his services without her mention of interest. Still, the comfort and pleasure never lasted long. And then he was gone.

    She cleaned up, the distant echo of the guard¡¯s footsteps fading from her ears as she straightened her room, pillows, bedding, her dress, and hair. She could never let it get too far out of control. There were always eyes, always someone watching¡ªsomeone ready to claim the mistakes of a queen.

    But it wasn¡¯t as though she could stop. She still felt the heat, the lingering throb that demanded attention. And it was growing harder to ignore. What satisfaction she gained from her favorite guard curbed her rising appetite only enough for her gaze to fixate on another. It wasn¡¯t right, she knew that, but it was beyond her control. Every fiber of her being yearned for the chance to bear a child¡ªa blessed daughter. And she knew that, and understood the inherit problem of it when she was a queen without consort, and too young to be expected to have one right away.

    Damn her nature.

    As she finished tidying, looking more put together again, the door creaked open, revealing Ysara, her face tight with concern. She could already hear the lecture heavy on her tongue and the disappointment in her voice before she started. Mira looked at her, the slight flicker of annoyance in her chest making it harder to maintain her usual composure. The last thing she wanted was to be told how wrong she was for her conduct, her needs, her¡­ loneliness.

    ¡°Are you well, Your Majesty?¡± Ysara¡¯s tone was laced with frustration, her words heavy, her eyes scanning Mira with an intensity that made the air feel heavier. She was want for asking pointless questions, to the point she rarely asked them if she didn¡¯t already know the answer.

    Mira flinched inwardly, but masked it with a careless smile and turned on her toes. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she muttered, brushing her hands through her disheveled hair to make it seem as if she were simply having a disordered day. ¡°Just¡­ tidying up a bit between studying and public appearances.¡±

    ¡°Tidying up? Or indulging in more distractions?¡± Ysara¡¯s voice was sharp, her gaze unrelenting. There it was¡ªthe seething condemnation Mira had expected as the high priestess hissed through her teeth. ¡°I have seen the patterns, Mira. The increase in your¡­ activities. The mingling with dubious crowds. And yet you cannot even manage to channel your own magic anymore, not without rendering you too fatigued. This disease is worsening, and you are still turning a blind eye to it.¡±

    Mira stiffened, her stomach knotting. ¡°I told you, I¡¯m fine,¡± she repeated, but her voice lacked its usual confidence and came only just above a whisper. She knew Ysara was right. The exhaustion was becoming worse, and after each magical attempt, she felt weaker¡ªdizzier. But she refused to admit it. If she did, she¡¯d have to admit that it was killing her, and no one wanted a dying queen. Not again.

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    ¡°You¡¯re not,¡± Ysara replied bluntly. ¡°You cannot continue using magic recklessly. I¡¯m not deaf to the talk of the city of your romps to the children¡¯s ward, healing the sick again. Do you think you have so much power in you that you have any right to turn their fates? The gods did not bless you with godhood; you¡¯re still subject to the limits of your own body. This disease¡ªit is a result of overuse, Mira. The Styxin have studied it extensively. Magic Illness is not some game you can reverse or ignore. And if you keep ignoring it, you will pay the price., and so will your people.¡±

    Mira¡¯s jaw tightened, but she refused to acknowledge the creeping sense of dread that surged through her chest. ¡°Enough. I have to leave soon for the Academy. There are already plenty of things to keep me occupied without you lecturing me about how I engage with my people. Besides, I have to be ready for how different it will be when I return. It¡¯s been months.¡±

    Ysara¡¯s expression softened, though only slightly. ¡°Indeed. But there is something else we must discuss, something urgent.¡±

    Mira raised a brow, curious despite herself. Ysara moved closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. ¡°A mate. Every queen must have one, and your recent¡­ choices have made it clear that you are approaching the time when that choice must be made. You need someone to help secure an heir in case the worst happens. You are within your expectation to take a consort or concubine. Both if you desire. Either way, you need to secure a mate.¡±

    Mira¡¯s stomach twisted at the mention. The thought of another man, someone to bear her children, made her insides churn. Wasn¡¯t it enough to cling to the guards in waves of pleasure and passion on a whim and be bound to a prince too reckless for his own good? Now, it wasn¡¯t that she didn¡¯t understand the necessity¡ªshe did¡ªbut it still felt like a betrayal. A part of her wanted to rebel, to ignore it. But she couldn¡¯t. Her destiny had been decided long before she was ever born.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to choose someone based solely on the chance of bearing a child,¡± Mira muttered, her voice hollow.

    Ysara let out a soft laugh, though it was more amused than mocking. ¡°Love is not the point here, Mira. It¡¯s about securing the future of your kingdom. Breeding is a biological fact, not a romantic fantasy. There is plenty of time after to seek out courtship.¡±

    A faint flush spread across her skin. She had hoped for something more than that¡ªsome deeper connection, even if it was fleeting¡ªbut Ysara¡¯s words rang true. A queen could not afford to think of romance. She had a duty, and that came first. Even if that duty was securing the lineage.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind,¡± Ysara continued, ¡°the next holiday is a perfect opportunity. The peak of spring¡­ ideal for conception. You should meet with some suitors then. Choose one. It will be¡­ productive.¡±

    Mira closed her eyes, struggling to push down the heat that surged through her. She could feel her body betraying her, her arousal rising uncontrollably, as if responding to the mention of a mate. The very idea of it sent a wild thrill and flash of something¡ªa distant dream, maybe¡ªof someone suited for her, perfect and divine, but then it was gone. A lingering thread in the fabrics of tales her mother had told her of a prince she was meant to find, who sought after her long before she could have known or understood that he would sacrifice everything just to be with her. A soulmate.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she whispered. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    Ysara smiled, beaming with pride. In her eyes, Mira would become soon the queen she hoped for, even if reluctantly along the way. Mira, on the other hand, wasn¡¯t so sure. Her mind wandered. What would Haros think? If she took a mate, what would he feel? The bond radiated echoes through it, and if she had a mate, he¡¯d surely know of any sort of¡­ intimacy. Would he sense her pregnancy before she knew about it? Would he resent her? She didn¡¯t know if she could bear to see the disappointment in his eyes. The wounded look he would give her when his proposition washed away with the changing tides. It wasn¡¯t right..

    Ysara crossed the room, setting a hand on Mira¡¯s shoulder, sensing the shift in her thoughts. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with it,¡± she said, her voice gentler now. ¡°It¡¯s normal. Styxin women feel these urges. I, myself, have had three mates. All of them produced girls quickly, and once that need was fulfilled, I was free of it. Madelena had two. It¡¯s just a part of our nature. No one has ever faulted a Styxin for who they are, and not once has the same ever been put upon dragons. He will understand.¡±

    Mira felt a pang of guilt, knowing she had been hesitant not because of the implications for her kingdom, but because of Haros. What would he think of her choosing another? Could he share her so easily? Doubts crept in like shadows as she thought back to the way he whipped his tail and held her captive in the temple chamber. It wasn¡¯t in him to be amenable to sharing. And with each heavy thud of her heart, she wasn¡¯t sure she wanted to be shared.

    Ysara seemed to pick up on her unease. ¡°You¡¯re overthinking this. And besides, you¡¯re not alone. The dragons have a particular interest when the queen is expecting. It¡¯s a bond they form with the queen, a protectiveness born of magic from the gods. No one will question Haros¡¯s presence by your side during that time. You need to worry less about how it may appear to other people. The call to him will be irresistible, and the Styxin will delight to see that their queen and heir are so protected.¡±

    Mira tried to accept Ysara¡¯s logic, but in the back of her mind, it wasn¡¯t what others would think that troubled her. It was what Haros might think. What if he thought she had moved on, that she no longer needed him, that she had found someone else to fulfill the role? She paused in place, replaying that thought. Why would he feel that way, though? She wasn¡¯t anything to him, anymore than he was to her: a partner. And she wasn¡¯t replacing him¡­ she was only¡­ only¡­ prioritizing someone else. The thought stung. He¡¯d been in her dreams and wandering thoughts so long, the idea of replacing him with someone else felt wrong. But there it was, replacing him with someone else even in her thoughts was impossible. He¡¯d hate her if he knew.

    Mira¡¯s stomach tightened again as her worries intensified. She wasn¡¯t sure if she was ready for that, not when her heart still wavered between what was expected of her and what she felt. And if Haros was to be part of that future¡­ Would he ever see her the same way again?

    Ysara¡¯s hand rested gently on Mira¡¯s shoulder, offering comfort. ¡°You¡¯ll find your mate, and you will soar above all expectations. You always do.¡±

    But Mira wasn¡¯t so sure anymore.

 Chapter 13: Seeds of Manipulation

    It wasn¡¯t the sidelong glances or the way people moved aside as she walked through the campus that bothered her the most. Rather, it was the stinging silence. Mira walked through the halls of the Academy the same as she had so many times before; her presence felt by all but acknowledged by none. The whispers of her return¡ªher fame, her importance¡ªdrifted in the air, but no one dared approach as if she were made entirely of glass and set high on a pedestal they were forbidden to touch.

    Her classmates hadn¡¯t made a great deal of effort to know her, but since the coronation, the weight of it had lifted but didn¡¯t disappear. It was when they sidestepped her in hallways, eyes downcast, expressions tight with the knowledge of her title, that she realized she had never truly been invisible. It was more of a matter of being rejected. And she would have liked more to be than rejected than feared. Her return had been met with a wicked sort of fear, awe, and uncertainty, but never the warmth of familiar faces who thought the same of her now as they had when she¡¯d left. It was almost suffocating.

    She needed to escape the stares, the whispers, the cold silence. Not bothering to linger too long, she gathered up her belongings and darted out the door. If she didn¡¯t look at the faces full of awe, then they couldn¡¯t matter to her. As she made her way to her usual routine, faster than usual, after her morning classes, a voice suddenly broke through her thoughts.

    ¡°Mira.¡±

    She stopped, heart skipping a beat, only to find herself face-to-face with Shamine, that charmer of the court who always seemed to have a smile ready, as though the world were his stage. He¡¯d been there for the coronation and brought a gift of¡­ something. She couldn¡¯t remember what it was, and for what it was worth she couldn¡¯t recall the specifics of anything anyone had gifted her. There were too many. But she remembered his face. The crooked way his smile rose and dimpled into his cheeks, and the warmth of his eyes and sandy dark hue of his skin like the sun elves his family had descended from. Even his ears came to the slightest of tips, despite the generation of mixed breeding with the other races.

    Shamine stood there with that too-perfect look, his eyes glimmering with a hint of something else¡ªsomething almost predatory¡ªbut she couldn¡¯t place it. Of course, sun elves were known far and wide for looking almost¡­ dangerous. The lions of the elven kind.

    ¡°Shamine,¡± she said, her voice a little guarded. ¡°I remember you from the coronation. How have you been?¡±

    He gave a sympathetic sigh, stepping closer with an almost theatrical sadness. ¡°While I¡¯ve been doing well, I fear my heart breaks,¡± he said, laying a hand on his chest. ¡°I heard about homecoming. A shame, really, that you missed it. Admittedly, I did, too, but that was a matter of family obligations. My sister, she¡¯s expecting. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard. So, of course, I understand the responsibilities of nobility. Especially when one has to manage something as important as Edithir¡¯s inheritance.¡± He paused, allowing her to process. ¡°Embarrassing, I¡¯m sure, for such a proud and powerful kingdom to have fallen so gracelessly by the crude prowess of someone so¡­ lithe in their regard for beauty. But you did what you had to do¡ªtaking their failings upon your shoulders, preventing such a terrible fate as the crumbling of a kingdom. You¡¯re truly a heroine worthy of splendorous applause.¡±

    Mira¡¯s lips tightened. So this was what was being said? Haros was right; the humiliation was tenfold worse than the initial lie, and something so bold was doomed to fail. No one would believe it for long. She straightened, tipping her head slightly as she offered a polite smile. ¡°Yes, the price of nobility is often steep.¡±

    He chuckled, his voice like warm honey. He swayed in step as he closed the gap between them, his hand running gently down her arm. ¡°I admire that. The way you carry yourself. You don¡¯t let such things affect you. Very few could handle such a situation with the same grace. It¡¯s,¡± his voice dropped, ¡°beautiful.¡±

    She blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his words. He was good at this¡ªtoo good, and it made her heart falter. A part of her wanted to trust him, but she¡¯d heard his ambition had a way of getting ahead of him. And there was something in his smile that was a little too wide to settle her nerves. But that was Shamine. He had always been a flatterer, but this¡­ there was something different in his tone. Something earnest. Maybe he truly meant it, and he¡¯d matured. Seeing peers rise affected even the most confident who were left behind.

    ¡°I¡¯ve admired you from afar for quite some time, Mira,¡± he continued smoothly, his gaze never leaving hers. ¡°I¡¯ve always thought highly of you, you know. Your strength, your poise. They¡¯re unmatched. It¡¯s always been intimidating thinking I could ever approach you, but something about seeing you again, since you¡¯ve returned, called to me. I couldn¡¯t keep to myself.¡±

    Her heart fluttered, the warmth of his words both pleasant and disarming. He did mean it, every word. Was it possible for someone like Shamine to truly admire her the way he claimed, or was this just another ploy? Ysara had warned her that men, especially under certain influences such as dragons or other beasts, would smell her. They¡¯d know she was ripe for breeding, and they¡¯d try to pursue her. Mira¡¯s lips pulled in. Shamine wasn¡¯t like that, though. She¡¯d crossed paths with him from time to time enough to know he wasn¡¯t that daring. Not that bold. Not that¡­ primal.

    He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, his words carrying the weight of a secret. ¡°Would you care to spend an evening with me? Not a date, of course,¡± he added with a charming grin. ¡°Just¡­ a chance to talk, to get to know one another. I regret having never made a great effort, and it would be an honor if you would afford me such an opportunity. Even if only just once.¡±

    Mira hesitated. After four years at the Academy, he was the first to have ever wanted her time. Haros didn¡¯t count. He wanted everyone¡¯s time. And the nights she¡¯d indulged his invitations resulted in attending parties where he lost sight of her and she wandered back to her dormitory. Forgotten and unimportant. What she wouldn¡¯t have given to have had that peace again.

    But instead, Shamine stood before her, offering a night she had no real expectations for. His invitation was genuine, wasn¡¯t it? He seemed nervous, almost vulnerable in his request. It wasn¡¯t the same chaotic energy Haros or Lazroth brought when they coaxed her from solitude. Or the sort of demand her study groups put on her when she put off sessions. No, Shamine wanted to spend time with her. She was sure of it.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­¡± she started, then caught a glimpse of his anxious expression and, before she knew it, the words slipped out. ¡°I suppose it wouldn¡¯t hurt, though. I have an exam tomorrow, so I really should spend the night studying. How about tomorrow night?¡±

    Shamine¡¯s smile widened. ¡°I promise it won¡¯t be anything more than a simple conversation. Just two people getting to know each other better. I can stop by tomorrow night after the evening classes let out, so we don¡¯t cross paths with the masses. I¡¯ve never been one to make a show of my company when I want to appreciate it the most.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± she agreed, her voice soft but determined. She could use a break from the solitude, from the whispers and the isolation. What harm could it do to go out for one night?

    As Shamine turned and walked away, Mira felt a curious unease settle in her chest, but she couldn¡¯t place the reason. He was charming, yes, but something about him didn¡¯t sit right. She shook her head, clearing those thoughts away. It was just nerves. She¡¯d never gone out with anyone she had not already become well acquainted with before. No one she¡¯d not had business with.

    <hr>

    The scent of smoke and earth lingered in the air as Haros reclined on a stone bench in the Academy gardens. His eyes were half-lidded, lost in the haze of the illicit herb he¡¯d been smoking¡ªwillow root and some red weed. The world felt slow, dreamy, and full of possibilities, but he had no great amount of energy for those such things when his body became heavy and his thoughts light. He exhaled, the smoke curling around his head as Icarid, the handsome elven boy, joined him in the moment.

    Icarid was everything Haros could have wanted in a lover¡ªslender, strong, with sharp features and skin kissed by moonlight. Blond hair fell like silk around his face, and his bright ruby eyes gleamed with mischievous energy. There was no one quite like Icarid, at least not in Haros¡¯s eyes, and he was destined for greatness. Well on the path to becoming a renowned speaker, he had no reason to worry in the slightest about his future, and often, he was plagued by it.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    They had shared countless encounters, some passionate, others casual, but all of them just as intoxicating as the smoke between them now. Somewhere between caresses and kisses, it was hard to pass on an opportunity with Icarid. He made every moment worth the trouble. Even now, as he adjusted himself, taking a seat beside Haros on the bench, both thoroughly satisfied with their exchange of pleasures, something more than cum and cocks was between them.

    Icarid turned to him with a curious expression. He studied Haros for a long moment, watching the way the sun kissed his cheeks and illuminated the undertone of his dark hair. What a beautiful and terrible man he¡¯d become. To think they¡¯d been boys once, dreaming of little more than of the silly games of childhood. And now, here they were lewd and tangled in each other¡¯s lives and legs. He licked his lips, considering carefully what it was that weighed heavily on him, that had brought him to Haros in the first place.

    ¡°There¡¯s something I need to tell you,¡± Icarid said, his voice softer than usual.

    Haros raised an eyebrow, propping himself up on one elbow. ¡°What is it?¡±

    Icarid hesitated, then confessed, ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking a lot about that girl, Mags, from the southern Academy. We¡¯ve been dating a while now, and I think it¡¯s something special.¡± His voice faltered for a moment. ¡°I think I¡¯m in love with her.¡±

    Haros snorted, half-teasing, ¡°A woman? You? I thought you were a confirmed lover of men.¡±

    Icarid flushed, a rare blush spreading across his cheeks. ¡°I am, and I would never deny my preferences, darling, but she¡¯s different. She makes me think differently about everything.¡± He paused, then added, ¡°And¡­ I think I might have gotten her pregnant.¡±

    Haros¡¯s expression shifted, but he held back a grin. ¡°That¡¯s quite the turn of events. So what now? You think you¡¯ll marry her?¡±

    Icarid looked conflicted, twisting his fingers and curling in on himself. ¡°That¡¯s the plan, Haros. But I¡¯m scared. I just turned eighteen, and Mags is at another school. I¡¯m worried she¡¯ll meet someone else, or worse¡ªwhat if I¡¯m not ready for this? I never once imagined fatherhood, not for myself.¡±

    Haros exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. He brought his rolled joint to his lips and took a long slow drag, then blew it out, clearing the smoke away from Icarid. ¡°Relax. Things have a way of working themselves out. If she¡¯s the one, everything will fall into place. Besides, if you need money, you know where to find me.¡±

    Icarid smirked, though the worry didn¡¯t leave his face. ¡°It¡¯s not money I¡¯m worried about. It¡¯s her finding someone else.¡±

    Haros hummed in thought, pondering the situation. He didn¡¯t understand it fully¡ªhow could Icarid fall in love with a woman? But as he lay there, staring up at the sky, something else crept insidiously into his mind. Love was fickle. It changed with the shifting of the breeze and the turn of the seasons. What if someone he loved met someone new? The thought gnawed at him, but before he could explore it further, Icarid interrupted his thoughts.

    ¡°Did you hear Mira¡¯s back?¡±

    The mention of her name caught Haros¡¯s attention immediately. His heart skipped a beat. ¡°Mira?¡± He offered a glance at his lover. ¡°I heard.¡±

    Icarid nodded, then lazily stretched out. ¡°I figured you did, and I wondered a bit what you thought of it. She came back to the academy today, you know. Shouldn¡¯t you go see her instead of entertaining me? I hear she¡¯s been in some very attractive company, even by my standards.¡±

    Haros¡¯s chest tightened, and a sudden rush of jealousy flooded through him. He stood up abruptly, pacing a few steps back and forth. ¡°She¡¯s a queen; of course, she has everyone¡¯s eye.¡± He paused, biting his thumb and looking at Icarid as if annoyed. ¡°That bitch.¡±

    ¡°I doubt she would appreciate knowing that is your pet name for her.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a pet name.¡±

    ¡°Do you tell yourself that before or after you call her a bitch?¡±

    Haros¡¯s jaw churned, wanting badly to snap at him, but instead, he turned away. ¡°Don¡¯t call her that.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be easier to tell her you¡¯re in love with her?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± he lied, more to himself than Icarid. ¡°Love¡¯s bullshit.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± he smiled, watching Haros struggle to find a sense of calm. ¡°I believe,¡± he said slowly, watching him shift anxiously, ¡°I saw her leaving the class building not so long ago with some¡­ interesting company.¡±

    ¡°What company?¡± Haros turned, his eyes narrowed and flicker of scales rising along his neck to the edge of his jaw.

    Icarid grinned. Jealousy was a beautiful color on him. ¡°That little Tallus prick. Who else?¡±

    Haros sucked in a breath and before Icarid could say more, he was gone. If there was one person on the entire campus he hated, it was Shamine. That little shit had it out from him since the day they¡¯d met, and putting Mira in his sights had more to do with trying to usurp than anything else. How would Mira know that, though? She¡¯d been gone for months, and she was never anything close to a socialite. Secluded and concerned for her magic first.

    He rounded the corner, and there she was¡ªShamine snaking around her with a flash of a grin and a stroke down her arm. Her body angled toward him, smiling, listening intently. His fingers brushed the corner of her hair, and she didn¡¯t so much as flinch as if she didn¡¯t even notice. Haros¡¯s heart crashed into his stomach, a wave of anger and jealousy surging through him. Mira, talking to Shamine? Looking like that? Any idiot could see how lovely she was when¡ªHaros stepped back.

    When did he start thinking she was so lovely?

    He shook his head. It was a stupid crush on a girl who struck his fancy only for her mysteriousness. Now, she was bound to him. It was a mess. There was no place to start thinking anything else of her, especially not after she¡¯d made clear that she didn¡¯t want him any closer to her than he already was¡ªa partner, and that was all.

    He stood frozen, heart pounding. No. He couldn¡¯t interrupt, talk to her, see her. Not yet. He couldn¡¯t face her, not with Shamine there and his blood boiling. Instead, he turned and retreated into the shadows, away from the sight of Mira laughing at something Shamine said, light and ringing like silver bells. A sound that he would spend all night dreaming of and wishing she would smile at him that way one day.

    <hr>

    After dinner in the local tavern hall, the most popular place in the town, Mira and Lazroth walked side by side through the darkened streets toward their dormitory. Laz was excited, practically bouncing with energy. He bit his lip, glowing with delight. His bright blue eyes caught every bit of light they passed, and his black hair gleamed as if he¡¯d taken particularly fine care of it today.

    ¡°So, are you ready for your date with Orden?¡± Mira teased, taking him by the arm to settle his restless energy.

    Lazroth flushed, a smile tugging at his lips. ¡°I think so. We¡¯ve been talking for a while now. I¡¯m really looking forward to it.¡±

    Mira¡¯s face softened. ¡°I¡¯m so happy for you, Laz. You deserve this.¡±

    Laz laughed, nudging her with his shoulder. ¡°Thanks. It feels good to finally be with someone who likes me back.¡± His pace then slowed, and he grew more serious. ¡°Have you talked to Haros yet? I haven¡¯t seen him around, and last session, you were nearly joined at the hip before¡­ well, everything. The ceremony, the coronation¡­¡±

    Mira frowned, unsure what he was getting at. ¡°No, I haven¡¯t. Why?¡±

    Laz shot her a teasing look. ¡°Because I think you¡¯ve missed the obvious.¡±

    Mira blinked, confused. ¡°What do you mean ¡®the obvious¡¯?¡±

    Lazroth sighed, smiling knowingly. To a certain point, he felt like he¡¯d grown up watching them orbit each other, a constant narrow miss of an opportunity. Neither seeing what he saw, what everyone saw when they looked at each other. Even from across a field, it was clear as day. ¡°Mira, please, you can¡¯t say you haven¡¯t noticed, can you? Everyone can tell¡­ Haros has feelings for you. He always has. He picked you to be his partner at ten, and he doubled down during the ceremony. It¡¯s so obvious.¡±

    Mira¡¯s eyes widened, her pulse quickening. ¡°What? No¡­ he¡¯s just been protective. And since the ceremony, there¡¯s been so much going on, he¡¯s just¡ªbusy.¡±

    ¡°Or he¡¯s avoiding you because he¡¯s nervous.¡±

    ¡°Haros is a lot of things, but nervous has never been one of them.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s in love with you.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not.¡±

    Laz shook his head, grinning. ¡°Mira, he¡¯s not subtle. He wears his heart on his sleeve, even if he¡¯s too proud to admit it. You¡¯ve been his constant, even when he doesn¡¯t show it.¡±

    Mira licked her lips and turned her gaze to her feet. A strange warmth spread through her chest, but she pushed the thought away. It was impossible. It was forbidden. ¡°I think it¡¯s just a moment of panic,¡± she muttered. ¡°I¡¯m the queen now. The entire dynamic was had where he thought he was something better than me, some higher order that I found impressive¡ªI guess¡ªhas changed. He¡¯s just¡­ he¡¯s just looking for something familiar. Something comfortable. I¡¯m not it.¡±

    Laz didn¡¯t let up, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in feigned disbelief. ¡°He¡¯s a lot of things, you¡¯re right about that, but subtle isn¡¯t one of them¡ªtrust me. He¡¯s going to make a great king one day for it, Mira. He doesn¡¯t let rule books and swinging ideologies get his way. Politics come second to the people he cares for. The fact that you¡¯re the queen isn¡¯t what has him hiding. He¡¯s scared because you could break his heart again. Don¡¯t forget that.¡±

    ¡°Break his heart again?¡± she asked, raising a curious brow.

    ¡°I heard he proposed to you,¡± Laz said sheepishly.

    Her lips parted, and she groaned, twisting away in frustration. ¡°Oh, no. Are you serious? It was an impulsive offer! He was drunk and wasn¡¯t thinking straight!¡±

    ¡°You know with the Legacy, he can make himself sober on command, right?¡± Laz asked, watching her deflate in frustration.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°He has absolute control. It¡¯s a defense mechanism. Makes it hard to be poisoned or killed with magic. You didn¡¯t know that?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    A smile slid along his features. ¡°Oh, so you really thought he wasn¡¯t serious¡­¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± Mira turned, staring down the road. It had never occurred to her that Haros had the capacity to be serious. Ever since taking on the Legacy, sobriety was elusive, and before then, he¡¯d taken more to the pleasure of life than to responsibilities.

    As they walked in silence, Mira couldn¡¯t help but wonder even more about what everyone else deemed obvious. Could it really be that simple? Could Haros truly feel something for her beyond their bond?

 Chapter 14: Temptations of Restraint

    The moonlight draped the Academy¡¯s gardens in a soft glow, casting long shadows against the stone paths and highlighting the pale midnight blossom of the violet willows on the eastern side. Mira stood by the ornate doors of the academy¡¯s private dining room, her hands nervously smoothing down the hem of her dress. It wasn¡¯t her best dress, but it was thin and attractive, layered like petals to fit her trim, petite figure.

    Tonight was the night she had agreed to spend with Shamine, and although she had kept the conversation casual since he¡¯d first extended to invitation, now, as the evening loomed before her, her thoughts were anything but. He swore it wasn¡¯t a date, so why did it feel like it was? They were blooming friends, perhaps close friends, but nothing more. He had an eye for detail and kept strong connections. That was all this was about, truly, she tried to convince herself, but the nagging in the back of her head insisted it was more. Or maybe, she hoped that it would be more.

    Shamine greeted her with a smile that could light up a room, his eyes glinting with the promise of the same kindness he¡¯d extended the last two days. It was the sort of authentic compassion she¡¯d rarely seen in the priestesses and even less often from teachers. ¡°Mira,¡± he said, extending his arm for her to take. ¡°Shall we? The night awaits us, and you make it lovelier already.¡±

    She hesitated only for a moment before slipping her hand into his, allowing him to lead her through the lush garden and toward the secluded area he had arranged for them. She kept close to his side, breathing in the musky, earthen scent drifting from him. Never had she met a sun elf, their kind practically erased by flippant breeding practices, but if she closed her eyes, she could have imagined Shamine with the traditional long pointed ears and gold eyes. Maybe he would have even inherited silver feathered wings instead of the bare webbed dragon wings he rarely showed off.

    Mira pressed her lips into a line, wondering why he kept such a thing to himself. Was he ashamed? His sister was revered for the strength she inherited from their fractured inheritance; her talons and tail were vastly superior to many other partial dragons. Surely Shamine was gifted with flight¡­ but then no one had ever seen it. Her heart sank at the thought that perhaps his inheritance might have been more vestigial than functional. That was always a risk. A generation of partial shifters that would eventually lose their inheritance all together.

    As they came to the far end of the garden where the trees sagged low, Shamine brushed back the tangled reed like strings of blossoms of the willow. The atmosphere was nothing short of intimate, just the two of them beneath the heavy cloak of night, with only the sounds of crickets and the rustling leaves to keep them company. Before them was a modest spread of delicate foods and a bottle of fine fae wine¡ªa rare and expensive treat from the southern edges of Seralena, the last lands dedicated to the pure fae.

    Together they sat, comfortable on the spread blanket and eating the fruits and charcuterie Shamine had provided. The night had started innocently enough, Mira¡¯s nerves waning as he poured her a small glass of wine. Conversation was easy between them, sparking naturally and flowing without the slightest interruption or uncomfortable pause. They discussed the year ahead¡ªhow quickly the time had passed, how much they still had to learn, how many more battles awaited them as they strived for honors and recognition to take home to their kingdoms.

    Mira giggled to herself, finding herself enjoying the conversation. Something about the ease between them made her feel less guarded. Or maybe it was the wine. Regardless, Shamine was a natural companion. He always had more to say, something to ask, and he listened intently. His words flowed effortlessly when he fell into a story, and for a while, she even forgot about her royal duties. For once, it was easy to just be Mira, not the Queen of Styxis.

    But soon, their banter took a turn.

    Shamine leaned closer to her as they spoke, his voice lowering, almost hushed, as though he wanted to share a secret. ¡°You know, Mira, I¡¯ve always admired how you¡¯ve handled everything. The weight of your responsibilities¡ªno one could do it with as much grace as you. And gods know how hard it must have been to walk among all your people and us, knowing who you are but never being seen as yourself. I can¡¯t help but admire the strength to endure every day, shrouded in such misdirection. You impress me beyond words.¡±

    Her pulse quickened, though she couldn¡¯t quite pinpoint why. She smiled, grateful for his compliment, but as he spoke, there was something else in his voice, something¡­ deeper. There, in the gravel and rasp of his hushed words, was an unspoken invitation. She couldn¡¯t ignore the way his eyes lingered on her, how his fingertips brushed lightly against her wrist when he passed her another glass of wine. His touch was careful, almost teasing, but it sent a strange shiver down her spine.

    Her chest tightened, breath growing shallow, but she dismissed the feeling. It¡¯s just Shamine, she reminded herself. Just a casual date, getting to know each other, and nothing more. It¡¯s just the ¡®urgency¡¯, and that can be dealt with later.

    As the evening wore on, his advances grew bolder, his proximity to her increasing in ways she didn¡¯t quite recognize until his breath swept warm over her neck, and he brushed back her hair, tucking it behind her ear. He leaned in once again, his lips just inches from her ear. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to know what it¡¯s like,¡± he murmured softly, ¡°to kiss someone with as much beauty as you. To feel the weight of a woman so perfect beneath my lips and held in my arms.¡± His hand smoothed down from her shoulders to her hands, taking them in his and raising them to his lips. With cautious ease, he placed a soft kiss to her fingers. ¡°I can only imagine how sweet, indeed, it would be to have such a rare pleasure.¡±

    Mira felt her heart skip a beat. She wanted to pull away, to put some distance between them, but something inside her¡­ something primal¡­ urged her not to. His words, his proximity, his touch¡ªthey were all intoxicating, drawing her in with a force she couldn¡¯t resist. Her head spun with the wine, and every scent of the midnight blossoms and cool night air had her nerves igniting with excitement.

    Shamine, sensing her hesitation and wandering enchantment, seized the opportunity. He cupped her chin gently, guiding her face to meet his. ¡°I¡¯ve been wanting to do this all evening,¡± he said, before his lips brushed lightly against hers.

    It was just a kiss, a soft press of lips, but the moment their mouths met, something inside her snapped. Her body reacted before her mind had time to protest. Her hand flew to his cheek, then slid to his hair, instinctively threading through and pulling herself closer. The kiss deepened as she found herself leaning into him, a soft moan passing between them as a carnal hunger swelled. Shamine¡¯s hands slid to her back, pressing her against him with a possessive force that made her pulse race even faster. Her hand slid down his chest, eager, ready. She would accept him right there if he let her and if he dared make one move further.

    Then, as quickly as it had begun, he pulled away, eyes dark with something unreadable. ¡°I think that¡¯s enough for tonight,¡± he said, his voice thick with restraint and remorse. He certainly didn¡¯t want this to be where it ended. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to take any advantage of you, dearest Mira.¡±

    She blinked, dizzy from the kiss, from the way her body burned for more. She was flushed, her skin humming with need, but she could feel the restraint in his touch, the shiver of forced withdrawal that not even he truly wanted, the careful distance he still tried to maintain out of utmost respect. He was a good man, wanting only to do what was right despite the yearning of his heart. A desire he¡¯d kept so well hidden, she¡¯d not even noticed until tonight.

    ¡°Shamine,¡± she whispered, her breath shallow and hands trembling. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening to me. I wish¡­ I wish you wouldn¡¯t have stopped.¡±

    He looked at her, that familiar, smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips. ¡°You¡¯re just overwhelmed, Mira. It happens to the best of us.¡± He offered his own shaking hands to take hers and lightly kissed her forehead. ¡°When love first blooms, it often is fast to open and slow to reach its widest beauty. Perhaps,¡± his voice lowered into a sweet and comfortable register, ¡°this was simply that blossom opening.¡±

    <hr>

    The walk back to her dormitory felt like an eternity. Her mind spun, still reeling from the kiss, from the way her body yearned for more. What is wrong with me?

    She slipped inside her room, her hands trembling slightly as she closed the door behind her. There had never been a time when any of the guards she¡¯d indulged in had made her quiver the way Shamine had with nothing more than a kiss. Sure, it hadn¡¯t been as chaste as it should have been, but it wasn¡¯t as though she¡¯d never been kissed by a man that way. In more ways. But something about the way he kissed her was different.

    Mira made her way to the bed, her skin still flush with desire, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Every nerve had been set alight, and the only thing she could think about was the what-ifs. What if they hadn¡¯t stopped? What if she had allowed him in the quiet of the garden, ravish her beneath moon and midnight blossoms? Would he have gone through with it, or was he too bound by honor like all the other Tallus men she¡¯d ever met?

    Stolen story; please report.

    No, this is ridiculous, she thought. I shouldn¡¯t be thinking about this. I¡¯ve been trained to be a queen, not some¡­ creature of lust. Not something like H¡ªhim.

    She shut her eyes tight, pushing back the thought and name she too often returned to like a desperate child clinging to a blanket. But the sensation was undeniable. It pulsed through her like wildfire, her body aching for more. There would be no peace until she satisfied it, and that was an indelible truth about the matter.

    She quickly discarded her clothes, wriggling free from the gossamer layers and thin silky under layers, the cool air of the room doing little to quell the heat that had taken hold of her. If anything, it encouraged her more, prickling her skin. Her back arched as another surge of desire rolled through her. Every thought curled back around to Shamine, to the way his mouth tasted and the aroma of his skin. It was too much. Her fingers wandered, almost instinctively, seeking release between her thighs.

    The pressure intensified as she reached lower, rubbing her clit and sliding her fingertips in where the heat and dampness had become a burning flood of need, her thoughts clouded by the overwhelming desire to feel something. Something Ysara had encouraged and still cast judgment over. Something she could have if she truly wanted it with little more than a whispered plea. She moved with urgency, her body burning for satisfaction, each wave of pleasure only feeding the next. She could have what she needed if she asked him.

    In a flash, every thought of Shamine vanished and come into its place, Haros. His breath tracing up her legs, and his mouth coming over her sodden core.

    Mira¡¯s head fell back as she gasped, her breathing erratic as she finally tumbled into release, collapsing against the sheets, panting and gulping for one decent breath. And though she stared at the ceiling, the only other thing in her head was that smile¡ªthat smirk full of arrogance and certainty that could not have belonged to anyone else. She threw her arm over her face, groaning as the image faded.

    Then came a sharp rap at the door, startling her upright and swinging her sheet over her chest. Who the hell had come by at this hour?

    <hr>

    Haros stood outside Mira¡¯s door¡ªleaned against it, to be more precise¡ªone arm folded beneath his forehead and the other clutching the door frame. His hand hovered for a moment before he knocked and pushed himself back in a staggered step. He hadn¡¯t planned on coming here. He had no intention of disturbing her. But something had been gnawing at him¡ªsomething about their last encounter months ago. Something in the way she looked at him, as if she were hiding something. The unease had driven him nearly mad, and no amount of burning red weed or bottles of liquor could make it subside, and it led him to seek her out, even at this hour.

    He had to know.

    The door creaked open, and there she stood, flushed, her eyes wide with surprise.

    ¡°Haros,¡± she said, her voice tinged with an unfamiliar note. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    His chin lifted, head cocking slightly. He could smell it¡ªthe heady scent of desire hanging thick in the air. Without meaning to, his lips parted as he studied her further. The sheen of sweat, the haze in her eyes. His nostrils flared as he caught the subtle scent of arousal lingering around the hand she pressed to the edge of the door, the evidence of her self-stimulation still clinging to her skin. Had he interrupted?

    His gaze flickered down, taking in her flushed cheeks and collar, the slight tremble in her legs that she had to keep her knees bent toward each other. Gods, he¡¯d loved when he made a woman so weak, but in that moment, it surprised him even more to see she had done it to herself. She was still so out of breath, as if maybe she had just nearly finished¡­ He leaned slightly, peering into the room. She was alone. This had been a personal choice for personal pleasure.

    He raised an eyebrow, smirking coyly. ¡°Am I interrupting, darling? Or would you like help finishing?¡±

    Her face flushed even deeper, and she shot him a cold, almost flirtatious look. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you to come over, Haros,¡± she replied, though there was an edge of something else in her tone. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    He smirked, unphased by her dismissive retort, and stepped forward as if he had every right to be there. ¡°I couldn¡¯t sleep,¡± he said casually, his eyes flicking over her body again, lingering just a little too long. ¡°I felt bad about not seeing you when you came back. Couldn¡¯t let another day go by without checking in on my queen, could I?¡± He paused, the smirk on his face softening slightly as he watched her turn, keeping a keen eye on him.

    She looked him up and down, assessing his towering height, his lithe build, the broad of his shoulders, and the faint outline of musculature he¡¯d developed just beneath his shirt. A tingle raced through her, relighting the candle she¡¯d thought she¡¯d snuffed out for the night. No, that¡¯s enough, she told herself, but knew it wasn¡¯t. Her brow furrowed before teasing, ¡°Perhaps you should request an audience next time. Wouldn¡¯t want to make such a shameful display of your guilt for ignoring me.¡±

    The shift in his demeanor was almost imperceptible, but Mira caught it¡ªa flicker in his eyes, a tightening in his jaw. His teasing faded into something else, something darker. His expression softened, but the lust in his gaze ignited. He licked his lips, cramming his hands into his pockets as he released an airy chuckle. Mira¡¯s gaze narrowed as she watched his display, feigning amusement.

    ¡°Did you enjoy your date?¡± he asked suddenly, his voice almost challenging, and the glint in his eyes shining with a borderline offense that she had gone out at all.

    Mira froze. ¡°How do you know about that?¡± she asked as if it were some grave secret, the thought creeping in that while his brother may well have told him, worse was that he might have sensed it through their bond. It wasn¡¯t as though she didn¡¯t sense what he was doing, having faint flashes of visions to his¡­ activities.

    He closed the space between them, his movements deliberate, each step bringing him closer. ¡°I just know,¡± he murmured, his voice low and darker than even he had intended. ¡°Something¡¯s different. Did you fuck him?¡±

    Mira swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rush of desire that threatened to rise in a haughty reply to his accusation. Baseless and jealous, but she knew he craved the salacious details. ¡°Would it bother you more to know that I had or to only believe I did?¡±

    Haros didn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, he stepped even closer and leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. ¡°If you wanted fucked by someone who knows what they¡¯re doing, you could have just asked.¡±

    Her heart pounded, but she tilted her chin, her voice cutting through the tension as her hand lifted and pressed to his chest, pushing him back enough to look him squarely in the eyes. ¡°And who exactly would I have asked, Haros? Or do you honestly think I believe that you would know what you¡¯re doing without both a map and a guide?¡±

    His smile was wry, almost predatory. Something in her rejection, the way she dismissed his prowess and skill, set him even more alight. Every bit of him wanted her. ¡°You bitch,¡± he muttered under his breath, but he hardly meant it.

    He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers, just enough to make her pulse spike, but not enough to satisfy her growing hunger. His hand slid around the back of her neck, drawing her closer, keeping the kiss for a brief, tantalizing moment before he drew back. Parting with her pained him almost as much as teasing her this way, but he knew it was the most she would afford him. Especially after she¡¯d been pleasuring herself to the likes of Shamine.

    Mira¡¯s gaze slid to Haros¡¯s lips, and without thinking, she leaned in, capturing him in a kiss again. He moved a hand to her waist, and when she pulled him closer, he pulled away, his eyes gleaming with mischief and something else¡ªsomething almost triumphant. He knew what he was doing.

    Her body ached with frustration, her knees nearly giving out beneath her.

    But he smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re in a breeding period, Mira,¡± he said, his voice hushed but full of the same wanton lust coursing her veins. ¡°And you¡¯re drunk on it. You can¡¯t even think straight, can you?¡±

    Mira¡¯s chest tightened, and for a moment, everything inside her cooled¡ªjust enough for her to recognize what he¡¯d said. She stepped back, ashamed of herself, and straightening her thin nightgown. It was the only thing she could grab in a hurry, and no doubt he could tell it was thrown on. What a mess she¡¯d become. And Ysara was right; men would notice. Dragons would notice. He would notice.

    Haros stepped back, his gaze never leaving hers. ¡°As much as I¡¯d love to help you, my darling,¡± he said, using the term with a strange weight, ¡°I need my rest. So do you. Training starts in the morning. Remember?¡±

    His words, though tinged with a deeper remorse and cynicism and something almost affectionate, had the power to ground her. She nodded, then looked up at him, almost confused. ¡°Then why did you come by?¡±

    The corners of his lips curled up into a wicked, viperous grin. ¡°You called.¡±

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t,¡± she replied, her brow furrowing.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, softer, brushing back her hair, then taking her wrist to bring her hand to his lips. With a dramatic deep breath over her fingers, his eyes met hers with a heavy implication. ¡°You did.¡±

    Mira gulped, snatching her hand back. Her face burned with furious embarrassment. He had picked up on something from the bond, had known what she was doing¡ªthat was how he knew about the garden. The jerk! ¡°I didn¡¯t call you.¡±

    Haros chuckled, releasing her wrist. ¡°Well, I answered.¡± His eyes sparkled with delight, realizing that perhaps she had not even realized what she had done¡ªwhat he had done. He felt the vibrations, the hunger, and he¡¯d sent in reply the very first thing he could think of to relieve her tension and the lingering desire he¡¯d harbored longer than he cared to admit. And gods, smelling her now only confirmed for him how delicious she would taste if ever she allowed him the chance. ¡°Goodnight, Mira,¡± he said softly, though he hoped she would ask him to stay, and turned and left, snapping the door shut.

    The cool air settled over her once again as she stood there, trying to quell the storm of desire that had been stirred within her. Despite everything¡ªdespite the heat in her body, the ache in her chest¡ªshe knew something else was at play. Something stronger than the mating drive. Something that she couldn¡¯t yet give a name to or accept. But when the door clicked shut behind him, she realized¡ªhe was right. She had called to him, and he answered. He came to her and knew just what it was she needed. And she refused.

    Mira sighed, trudging back to her bed. The warmth of his kiss lingered on her lips, and she raised her fingers to brush over where the sparkles remained. It hadn¡¯t felt like the kisses from Shamine. No, it was something different. Her heart leaped to her throat and dragged forth a sadness she¡¯d long kept in the pit of her stomach. She fell to her side on her bed and gathered up her blankets around her. Haros loved her.

    And in the quiet of her room, for the first time in what felt like ages, she was alone with her thoughts and a sensation she had never expected to find.