I shifted on the bed, gazing out the window as my mother sat next to me, her head resting on my bed where she had fallen asleep. I had heard when she came in, but the exhaustion in her gait was obvious. Watching and keeping track of Valaine was clearly wearing on her, so I pretended to be napping until she finally succumbed to the need for rest. As soon as she was out, I sat up carefully, letting my eyes wander toward the pale stretch of sky beyond the window. The storm from earlier in the week had passed, leaving the palace in a sweltering haze that clung to the walls like wet silk. I could hear the buzz of insects through the open pane, their wings slicing the thick air. The summer heat was terrible before, but it was worse being stuck inside a stuffy room.

  I didn’t get many visitors, mostly either my mother or Tritetia. Tritetia only came when she had news about Yssac or Caspian, letting me know that things were moving as planned. She kept her visits short, hovering by the door more often than not, as if coming closer was a risk she couldn’t take. She hadn’t spoken again about the magic she used, and I hadn’t asked. There was something unspoken there, and while I hated not understanding things, I could sense that prying would only make her draw further away.

  As soon as the antidote appeared to be working, she and Yssac were both cleared to return to Isadora’s palace, but Tritetia insisted she’d remain with me until I could get out of bed. Even though the fire in my veins had dulled, the pain was still there, lurking beneath my skin like embers waiting for the right wind to spark again. I hadn’t had another episode like the one in Driria, but every day since, I’d felt like something under my ribs was waking up too fast, stretching before it knew its own shape.

  I was careful to never let my mother see; she had been terrified when I finally saw her and I didn’t want to frighten her anymore. She spent every moment she could with me, although since she was still responsible for Valaine, it was far less time than either of us would have liked. Tritetia sometimes swallowed her own discomfort to afford my mother more time, and today was one of those days as I sighed, allowing my horns to manifest.

  “–up and walking today. It’s such a relief,” the two women from the kitchen were talking loudly again and I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the heat as I listened into their conversation. “I thought for a moment we would lose Caspian how we lost him.”

  “As if. But did you hear? It was his aide who came up with the cure! If only he had been born when Thorne was alive,” the other lamented, her voice full of that wistful admiration servants always seemed to keep hidden in safe corners of gossip. “Sometimes I wonder what he looked like. I’m sure Lady Valaine would–”

  “Oh hush, Sammy, we talked about this. Isadora will tell her when Valaine is old enough,” the first voice scolded and I shook my head as I reopened my eyes, allowing my horns to disappear as my mother shifted. Most of the servants were simply talking about Caspian’s recovery and it wasn’t anything I didn’t already know. All I had gained from my days of listening was that the news hadn’t been made public yet, so only those in the Imperial Palaces even knew Caspian was getting better. It was smart for both Isadora and Yssac to wait until he was recovered in case the antidote failed, but it was fair to say by this point, Yssac has succeeded.

  “Cyran,” I nearly jumped as the door to my room opened, revealing Caspian as he stepped inside. My mother stirred next to me, her eyes blinking open groggily as she registered the sound of his voice. She sat up quickly, brushing her hair from her face and casting a confused look toward the door before her eyes widened.

  “Your Highness,” she murmured, already standing and smoothing her skirt as Caspian stepped in further. It was almost strange to see him so put together; it was almost as if he hadn’t spent the past two weeks dying. He walked in with that same calm, unbothered gait he always had, although maybe just a little slower, like he wasn’t quite used to being vertical again. “Praise the gods that you have recovered.”

  “Thank you, Lady Linota,” Caspian bowed slightly to my mother and it was then that I noticed him wince. Despite appearances, he was still hurting from the damage the sandwalker blood had done. When he stood up again, I finally noticed the specks of blue in his storm-grey eyes, hinting at the lapse in his once perfect control. “Are you taking care of yourself? I’m sure you have been worried about Cyran.”

  “Oh, don’t mind me,” my mother did her best to wave him off with a graceful smile, though I could see the way her fingers trembled slightly as she smoothed her skirt again. “As long as my son is safe, that’s enough for me. I’m just grateful he has people around him who care.”

  “Indeed. If I may,” Caspian finally turned his attention to me and I quickly looked away, not wanting him to see the way my jaw clenched. I knew he’d come eventually, but something about the way he looked at me always made my skin itch, like he could see straight through me no matter how carefully I layered my thoughts. I didn’t want him to look at me like that; not now, not when I had more questions than answers and the burn under my ribs still hadn’t faded.

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  My mother glanced between us, lips pressing into a soft, unreadable line. After a moment, she nodded once to Caspian and gave me a quick kiss on the crown of my head. “I’ll come check on you later, love. Try not to overdo it.”

  I gave her nod as she turned, walking gracefully past Caspian as she left the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. The silence that followed was heavy, not awkward exactly, but dense with the weight of things neither of us wanted to say first. Caspian walked further into my room, easily picking up the chair from my desk and he moved it next to my bed. He sat down almost mechanically, but I could feel that his eyes never left me.

  “Do you want to see?”

  “Huh?” I finally looked up at him, and finally noticed that his eyes were more blue than grey now. He looked… tired, far more exhausted than he had seemed when he first stepped into my room. It must’ve taken all his willpower to appear normal while making his way to me and I frowned, folding my hands in my lap. “... yes, I do.”

  “Then watch,” I looked up as Caspian took a breath, deep and steady, the kind of breath you took before walking into a storm. He leaned back into the chair and as he relaxed, his draconic features reappeared in the time it took for him to finish breathing out. His dark grey horns curled around his head, laced with blue veins in the same way my black ones were laced with gold. His wings gracefully arched over and behind the chair, and while I couldn’t see it, I could hear the slight movement of his tail as it dragged on the floor. The scales only appeared on his neck and arms, although I could guess most of his chest under the shirt was layered with the same slate-toned armor.

  Once it was done, Caspian ran his hand through his hair, clearly more comfortable as he opened his eyes, meeting my green gaze with his blue. I just stared for a moment, trying to find the words. His form was complete, his presence undeniable, and for the first time since being returned back in time, I understood how small I still was. His magic curled around him with the weight of years, a physical reminder of the presence I once had.

  “Why…” my voice faded before I could finish the question and Caspian shrugged, sitting up slightly as he adjusted his tail.

  “Why am I not a dragon? I don’t know,” Caspian answered, and despite being more expressive, there was still a level of restraint in his voice, as if being this open was not something he was used to. “It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes a Draconid will fail to become a full dragon. There are some theories but no one knows for certain.

  “Speaking of which,” the sharpness in Caspian’s voice made me flinch, and I could tell that he was about to shift the conversation whether I liked it or not. “What happened to you?”

  I glanced back down to my hands, groaning softly as I shifted. Caspian wasn’t like Isadora or Tritetia; he wasn’t asking out of something as simple as worry. Perhaps he was worried, but it was a worry tempered by purpose. He was calculating, collecting data, trying to understand what had happened for me to be bed-ridden. I took a breath, tasting iron where it clung to the back of my throat, and kept my eyes on the blanket bunched in my lap.

  “Yssac needed to get dragon blood for your antidote so he and I went to Driria,” I muttered, my voice catching for a moment as I tried to find the cleanest version of the truth to give him. I told him about finding Kapral’s body and about the Muxleons and how I tried to hold them off so Yssac could get the blood. I heard Caspian’s tail twitch as I mentioned fighting alone, and I could tell that he didn’t approve, even if he didn’t interrupt me. He remained silent, even as I described my painful transformation and how it felt like my blood was on fire, and how I had passed out before Yssac could bring us back.

  The silence continued even after I finished, finally raising my gaze to meet his again. Caspian was staring at me, not with anger or disapproval, but with something heavier. His hands stayed folded in his lap, and the soft groan of the wood beneath him filled the silence while he considered his next words.

  “I was… concerned this might happen to you,” he said, and there was a weariness in his voice now, something almost similar to regret. “Cyran, you don’t have dragon blood. Even if your mother and father ate Kapral’s flesh, it didn’t turn them into dragons. And that means your transformation isn’t the same as mine.”

  I frowned, but I didn’t interrupt. I let him keep going, even as my chest began to tighten again.

  “One of the theories behind failed dragons like me is that somehow, we are more human than dragon. No one is sure how it would work, but it seems to at least be true in your case,” Caspian paused, exhaling slowly. “Without dragon blood, you’ll never be able to shift, and trying to will only cause this.”

  He motioned to be in the bed and my frown deepened. That wasn’t true; I knew it wasn’t true. My changes had never hurt in my past life and I had taken a full dragon form then. It was the whole reason he had killed me.

  But before I could say a word, the air shifted. Every muscle in my body locked as a pressure rolled through the room, quiet and massive and I sat up too fast. My ribs screamed in protest, and the blood rushed to my head, making my vision lurch sideways for a moment. That overwhelming presence that made my skin tighten and the back of my neck prickle like I was standing too close to fire.

  There was a dragon nearby.

  “Calm down, Cyran, it’s not Illythia,” Caspian finally spoke and I glanced at him, still struggling to breathe as the presence drew closer and closer. Finally I heard my door click, and a woman stepped inside quietly. Her golden hair caught the dim light and scattered it like flame off water, too fluid, too perfect to be ordinary. Her hazel eyes and robes, warm and understated, did nothing to diminish the sense that something vast had just stepped into a very small space.

  “This is my mother.”