When my door opened again, it revealed both of my adoptive parents and Cyldri, all three dressed as if they had come from the main palace. Isadora was the first to step inside, her presence warm and deliberate in the way only she could manage, like she was somehow both checking on me and checking the room for danger. Cyldri followed, her stride slower, more measured—not out of caution, but out of the quiet authority that always seemed to wrap around her like mist. Caspian brought up the rear, silent and unreadable as always, his eyes flicking to me the moment the door clicked shut behind him.

  “Has the pain faded completely?” Cyldri spoke almost immediately, and I nodded as I stood from my desk, watching as Caspian and Isadora sat on my bed. The dragon came to stand in front of me, her hands folded loosely in front of her as she studied my face for a moment. “May I check?”

  I frowned before slowly nodding, not sure what she meant as she reached forward, taking my left hand carefully into hers. Her skin was neither cold or warm and I watched as only her hand shifted, golden scales covering her skin as she held my arm in her claw.

  “This will sting,” she warned, and I barely had time to brace before a small, sharp pain bloomed across my hand. It was nothing more than a prick, but my entire arm tensed anyway as a single golden claw pierced the center of my palm. A droplet of blood welled up immediately and I expected red, deep and dark, like it had always been.

  But it wasn’t.

  The drop shimmered in the light like melted coin, thick and metallic and unmistakably not human. I stared at it, at the quiet, deliberate way it slid down my skin, trailing toward my wrist like something sacred. It didn’t burn, but it didn’t feel normal either. It almost felt like I was looking at someone else’s hand, even though I could still feel the pain as Cyldri removed her claw.

  “Good,” Cyldri let out a soft breath, the lines of tension at her brow smoothing as she let go of my wrist. I drew my hand back, flexing it once, twice, watching as the droplet of gold bled slowly down my skin. “Your magic accepted the blood and you are now making your own.”

  “And that means… what?” I kept my voice level, but I didn’t bother masking my confusion. I had already heard so many versions of what I was, what I wasn’t, what I might become; another addition didn’t matter unless it changed something.

  “It means your dragon magic will start to manifest soon,” Cyldri replied, as if it were obvious. She stepped back, folding her hands behind her. Her expression remained gentle, and I watched her for any flicker of concern, but there was none. Just quiet relief and that unshakable steadiness that seemed baked into her bones. “Like all magical beasts, dragons have inherent magic and each dragon’s magic is unique.

  “Like I told you, my magic allows me to cast illusions, but I also can produce metals from my breath,” she motioned toward Caspian, where he sat next to Isadora. “While he will never develop a breath, Caspian can use containment magic. Illythia’s you already know.”

  At the mention of her name, I couldn’t help my involuntary shudder, remembering the way my body had obeyed her against my will. “I already have magic. I can make powerful suggestions.”

  “No, that’s what Kapral could do, just like how you can hide your eye using my illusion magic. Honestly, I don’t know if you’ll develop your own, or just a mixed version of mine and Kapral’s,” Cyldri corrected, and she watched me with an oddly curious expression, like she was waiting to see how the idea would settle in my head. “Usually, your emotions and personality determine the shape of your magic and breath.”

  I nodded, considering my first life. My breath has simply been fire, and I hadn’t given it much thought that it could have been different. It was a tool for me to use to kill Yssac and his father, and I hadn't bothered to understand anything about it beyond that. It was clear that the magic from Kapral had carried me through my first life, and I let my thoughts wander and Cyldri turned to talk to Isadora.

  My thoughts kept sliding sideways, catching on old memories and half-formed questions that I couldn’t ask—not without giving more away than I wanted to. I thought about Kapral’s scales, how bronze they’d gleamed beneath the ice. About Thorne’s portrait, how the metallic sheen of his hair had matched Kapral’s scales. From what I could tell, a dragon or Draconid’s hair color was indicative of the color of their scales, while it seemed we all had two eye colors; our human eyes and our dragon eyes. But if both Thorne and I were brothers through magic, why didn’t we have the same hair? Why was it our human eyes and face that looked so similar and nothing else?

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I muttered, noticing the way Caspian glanced at me. He didn’t ask anything and I didn’t speak again, turning away as my thoughts continued to circle. I couldn’t ask about the similarities, not without revealing more than I wanted to. Someone had killed Thorne with sandwalker blood, and then tried to manipulate the Marquess into doing the same to Caspian. Until I knew why, it was too dangerous to reveal how much I might know about Kapral or Thorne.

  Instead, I took a deep breath, forcing myself to meet Caspian’s gaze evenly.

  “I want to go to Roxarry Academy.”

  The women stopped talking as the words left my mouth, the silence that followed immediate and sharp. Isadora’s head turned toward me with a speed that didn’t match her usual grace, and Cyldri stilled mid-sentence, her mouth half open before she closed it again. The shift in the room wasn’t loud, but it was complete—like the tension of a held breath before a storm broke.

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  “Why?” Cyldri asked, her voice light but not casual. It wasn’t a challenge, but it wasn’t acceptance either. She was measuring the weight of my words, feeling out the shape of what I hadn’t said yet.

  “Tritetia wants to go,” I said, not seeing a point in trying to lie. “She doesn’t want to go alone and Valaine is too young. If I have inherent magic, I should be able to go too.”

  “That doesn’t mean you need to follow her,” Cyldri replied gently, but I could already feel the resistance in her tone. She wasn’t scolding me, but I knew when someone was trying to maneuver me out of an idea before I committed to it. Isadora stood slowly, the hem of her dress catching the light as she walked toward me. She didn’t speak right away, just looked at me the way she always did before answering a difficult question.

  “Cyran,” her voice was quiet, but there was something solid underneath it. Not anger. Not dismissal. Just the calm pressure of someone about to say something they really didn’t want to. “Leaving Naera… it’s not a small thing for someone like you.”

  “Because I am a Draconid?”

  “Yes, but not in the way you are probably thinking,” Isadora motioned to the chair behind my desk and I sat down as she sat next to me. “Theralis was one of the first dragons, and she helped to establish the empire’s borders. In return for helping Empress Althea, Althea had to make a mutual promise with Theralis. A pact.”

  I nodded, realizing I was finally being told truth of Naera’s history. I could understand what a dragon pact was and why it was so important. “So a promise?”

  “A very important kind of promise, Cyran. In exchange for protecting Naera, Althea agreed to protect dragonkind. Like I told you, all of us are born human, and until we become dragons we can be killed easily. A pact of protection for both the empire and us,” Cyldri answered, her voice still soft, but no longer distant. There was gravity in her words now, something deeper than just a lecture or a warning. Her eyes flicked to Isadora for a moment, and something passed between them; old, tired, perhaps a little mournful.“Kapral has been the one to make the pact for several generations. Since he’s dead, when Isadora becomes Empress, Illythia will be the new pact-bearer.”

  Just the mention of her name made me shiver, and I did my best to hide my reaction. I didn’t like the idea that Illythia would be the new protector of Naera but it made sense; Cyldri couldn’t because Caspian was her son, and the other dragons had their own Draconid children to watch over. It was likely that unless they were the named protector, the other dragons didn’t reveal their draconic forms or natures, in order to control who knew about their existence. I turned my attention to Caspian, who was meeting my gaze evenly.

  “You know your uncle knows, right?” I asked calmly, watching as Caspian nodded.

  “I am aware and I’m not surprised Yssac figured it out as well. My uncle has never liked my father or mother, and I am merely the latest target of that hatred,” Caspian shrugged and I nodded slowly, realizing just how long this web of resentment and ambition had been in the making. No wonder the Marquess was so determined; an inferiority complex was likely, even though he had claimed the title of Marquess instead of Caspian’s father. It was never enough and now he wanted to experience power through his own son.

  “Which is why,” Cyldri said after a pause, “we’re concerned about you leaving Naera. The more you travel, the more eyes land on you. You may not realize it yet, but the more visible a Draconid becomes, the more danger they bring to themselves and to those around them.”

  Isadora folded her hands in her lap, her expression unreadable. “As you well understand now, it’s part of our duty as the Imperial family to protect the existence and secrets of both dragons and Draconids. If you leave Naera, if you’re seen, if you use magic in a way that draws attention, it could start whispers we can’t control.”

  “But I wouldn’t do anything stupid,” I said quickly, sharper than I meant to. I took a deep breath, trying to think of a good way to not seem too desperate to go. “I wouldn’t risk my mother like that.”

  “Your mother?” Cyldri frowned, but I spoke before Isadora could.

  “Yeah. If someone learned I was a Draconid, they would assume my mother or father was a dragon, right? So that would put her in danger and I would never allow that.” I finished, letting the words hang, unsure if they’d land the way I meant them to. If anything, both Caspian and Isadora knew I loved my mother more than anything, so such a promise would sway them even if I couldn’t convince Cyldri. Isadora gave me a long look, the kind she reserved for moments she wasn’t sure whether to be proud or cautious. Then, after a pause, she reached out and brushed a piece of hair away from my face.

  “I haven’t done a very good job of protecting you, have I?”

  “What?”

  “All these years, and you’re still afraid of losing her.” Isadora’s smile was gentle and sad, and I frowned, shaking my head to pull away from her touch.

  “No, she’s safe here. Safer than we ever were in Polec,” I whispered, not liking the weight I felt in my chest. “That’s why I can leave, can go to Roxarry Academy with Tritetia. I won’t ever do anything that could change that.”

  Caspian finally stirred, his voice quiet but firm as he looked between the three of us. “I don’t see a reason to deny him.”

  Both women turned to him, Cyldri raising an eyebrow while Isadora’s lips parted just slightly, like she wanted to object but wasn’t sure how. Caspian’s gaze was steady, his posture relaxed, but I could tell he wasn’t just saying it to end the conversation. He meant it.

  “He’s already proven he understands the stakes,” Caspian continued. “And he’ll be under far more scrutiny here than at a school full of students whose attention spans are shorter than their family trees. The new semester won’t start until winter, and that gives me plenty of time to finish preparing him.”

  “But Cas, he’s–”

  “He’s my son, not yours, Mother,” Caspian folded his arms, but his expression and tone didn’t shift. “And I understand the risks far better than he does. If I say he’s ready, then he’s ready.”

  I blinked, surprised by Caspian’s stance. Isadora merely shook her head and smiled, as if she had expected that answer from Caspian and Cyldri was staring at her son, an unreadable look on her face. She didn’t argue right away, just let her eyes rest on Caspian as if weighing the merit of his certainty, but something in her gaze shifted. The concern didn’t vanish, but it settled into something quieter.

  “Fine. He can go.”