***

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

  “What are you thinking, Isa?”

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

  “Doesn’t he remind you of someone?”

  “No.”

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

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

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

  “You’re too soft,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to the words. If anything, there was a hint of something else—resignation, perhaps even understanding. Caspian exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “We don’t know what he is.”

  “I know,” Isadora agreed, but she didn’t look away from the child curled in his mother’s arms. “But he thought running away was his only option, Caspian. That tells me everything I need to know about the life he’s lived so far.”

  Caspian said nothing, but Isadora had been with him long enough to know what that meant. He was considering her point and judging in his mind how much he agreed with her. Caspian was known for slaying Kapral, the first evil dragon, but no one knew how much the decision ate him than Isadora.

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

  “At least try to get the truth before we have to explain to your parents.”

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

  Things had to be different this time.

  ***

  The carriage rocked gently, the sound of hooves striking the dirt road a steady rhythm beneath them. I sat beside my mother, watching Isadora carefully from the opposite seat. Caspian was outside with the other knights, giving up his seat so we could ride instead. He had been courteous enough to help my mother inside, but I had refused his hand. Even if he didn’t mean to harm me this time, I couldn’t let go of my anger.

  Isadora hadn’t said much since waking us up, simply offering my mother a different dress to wear instead of the one she had worn to my father’s funeral. My mother had hesitated before accepting, running her fingers over the fabric as if afraid it would vanish the moment she touched it. I wasn’t sure if it was from pride or simple disbelief, but eventually, she had taken the dress and changed before we departed.

  Now, we sat in silence, the only sounds were the soft creaking of the carriage wheels and the occasional snort from the horses outside. My mother looked tense, her hands folded neatly in her lap, but I could see the way she gripped the fabric of her borrowed dress, the way her shoulders were set just a little too stiffly. She wasn’t used to this, to being surrounded by nobility, let alone sitting in a carriage with the crown princess of the empire.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

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

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

  “My name is Linota, your Highness.”

  “Just Linota?”

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

  Isadora nodded, her silver eyes studying my mother with something that almost resembled curiosity. “Linota, then. Thank you for trusting me enough to come with us. I know it wasn’t an easy decision.”

  “It was hardly an offer I could refuse, your Highness,” my mother answered and I struggled to suppress the immediate anger I felt. That was the exact same answer she had given Marquess Blackwood when he took us in, and I hated hearing it again. It wasn’t an offer—it was a necessity. A gamble. One we had no choice but to take.

  “That may be true, but I do hope, in time, you’ll feel more secure in the decision.” Isadora didn’t flinch at my mother’s response, only tilting her head slightly, as if weighing her next words. “From what your son said, he seems to be very special. When did you first notice that he was different?”

  My mother’s fingers twitched in her lap. I could see the way she hesitated, the flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. It was one of the tells I had learned in my past life for when my mother didn’t like a question and was about to give a half-truth. It was a tell I only noticed when I had tried asking her why I was different and what was happening to me, and I was never able to get a straight answer before she died.

  “My husband and I… got lost in Driria,” she began carefully, her voice even but tense. “It was during the winter, and I was with Cyran at the time. We didn’t have much food, and the storm had stranded us far from the main roads.”

  “That must have been very stressful, especially since you were with child.”

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

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

  “We found a body,” she continued, her voice steady but lacking the rawness of true recollection. “It was frozen solid, but the meat didn’t seem rotten. My husband cut away enough for us to eat, cooked it over what little fire we could manage, and fed me first, knowing I needed it more. It was enough to keep us going until we found our way back.”

  Isadora hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head as she studied my mother. “And you don’t know what kind of creature it was?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “The best in the world!”