“Cyran! Cyran Virni Trokha!”

  I released a heavy sigh, carefully marking my page in the book I was reading. The afternoon sun was still spilling through the window I sat in, and I was reluctant to leave the warmth of the sun’s glow. The library was peaceful, the quiet hum of dust motes drifting through the air, the scent of paper and ink wrapping around me like a familiar embrace. I had been enjoying the solitude, absorbed in the book I found, but I had already known it was only a matter of time before Isadora would send my mother after me.

  I knew I couldn’t ignore her forever, but I wasn’t in any rush to reveal myself either. Instead, I ran my fingers over the spine of the book, considering how much longer I could pretend I hadn’t heard her. The book wasn't particularly interesting; despite finally being allowed in the library, it seemed all the good books, books containing the answers I wanted, were being kept elsewhere.

  “Cyran, if you don’t–”

  I finally moved, dangling my legs over the edge before I jumped down to the floor, the book still tucked securely under my arm. I made sure to land quietly, although I had no doubt she knew I was in the library. I rarely spent my free time anywhere else, and Isadora often sent my mother after me when I chose to avoid her. It was just easier to excuse not hearing her if she didn’t know I had been sitting in the window right next to the door.

  I carefully stepped out into the hallway and tilted my head in feigned innocence as my mother turned to face me. Her expression was a mixture of exasperation and relief, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she looked me over. She wasn’t angry, not really, but there was a familiar spark in her eyes—the same one she always had when she caught me sneaking around.

  “There you are.” She exhaled sharply, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. “Do you know how long I’ve been calling you?”

  I shrugged, shifting the book under my arm. “No.”

  Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Cyran.”

  I met her gaze evenly, but inwardly, I was pleased. She wasn’t tense, wasn’t glancing over her shoulder as if she expected danger to appear at any moment. She looked nothing like the worried, stressed person she had been in my previous life, where the only gift she could give me for my thirteenth birthday was a few small cookies she had managed to make. Here, she was radiant, her worry stemming from something as simple as my lack of urgency rather than fear for our survival. Her cheeks had more color, her shoulders didn’t carry the same stiff tension, and she seemed happy.

  Still, she wasn’t above scolding me. She reached forward, fussing over my plain shirt, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles before tugging lightly at my sleeves. “You know today is important. You should have been in your room getting ready instead of hiding away with a book.”

  “I wasn’t hiding,” I replied smoothly, though I made no move to stop her from fussing over me. “I was reading. There’s a difference.”

  My mother shot me a knowing look but didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed my wrist, pulling me down the hall with a determined stride. “No more excuses. You can read all you want tomorrow.”

  I hummed in acknowledgment, though I didn’t offer any further comment. I understood why today mattered; it was the day I would be formally announced to the empire as Caspian and Isadora’s son, legitimizing my presence in the palace beyond those who already knew. To most, it would be a day of celebration, a recognition of status and honor as well as my social debut. To me, it was the day that more people would learn of my existence—more eyes, more scrutiny, more potential dangers. It meant the first summer where things could shift in ways I wasn’t prepared for.

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  I felt the familiar weight of the crystal beneath my shirt and resisted the urge to reach for it. I had kept it on me at all times since Tritetia had given it to me, secured in a simple holder so I wouldn’t lose it. Over the past few years, we had used it sparingly, speaking only when there was something truly worth sharing. She still visited every summer, spending most of her time with Valaine, and those visits gave us enough time to discuss any changes, not that there had been many.

  So far, the only thing that had changed was that my mother's death stopped constantly shifting, meaning I had finally achieved some sort of stability in my efforts to protect her. But that stability was fragile, and I knew better than to assume it would last forever. The vision merely remained consistent—she was still set to die when I turned fifteen, and it would be by poisoning. And that meant I had less than two years to figure out how to prevent it.

  I focused on my mother’s presence beside me, grounding myself in the warmth of her hand as she led me through the halls. Even if I didn’t want today to come, even if it felt like an inevitable step toward something I couldn’t predict, she was happy. The palace bustled around us, servants moving swiftly with final preparations, the murmur of voices blending into the background as we weaved through the halls. The air smelled faintly of incense and polished wood, a familiar scent that had become a strange sort of comfort over the years.

  “Prince Cyran, there you are,” another voice carried down the hall in front of us and I turned my head just in time to see Yssac approaching, his usual confident stride carrying him toward us with ease. He had grown in the past few years, taller and broader, though his posture remained as arrogant as ever. His blond hair was neatly styled, and the deep blue of his uniform marked his status as an aide to the royal family, though he still carried himself with the casualness of someone who had never truly worked a day in his life. Despite everything, I was still getting used to the idea of him being here, and seeing him so harmless.

  I saw the moment his eyes landed on me, the way his expression shifted into something smug yet oddly pleased. “Skipping out on your own announcement, were you?”

  I rolled my eyes, but my mother didn’t give me a chance to respond. With a sigh, she released my wrist and turned toward Yssac, shaking her head. “Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with him.”

  “I ask myself the same thing,” Yssac replied easily, crossing his arms as he glanced down at me. “But I’ve managed. He’s grown on me.”

  My brows lifted slightly at that. Yssac had certainly changed, though not in the ways I had originally expected. Without his father’s direct influence, he was still arrogant, still self-important, but he lacked the cruel edge that had once made him unbearable. Instead, he was just an overconfident noble who didn’t quite know how to make connections. Despite the years close to Caspian, he still lacked a spine of his own and avoided making decisions. It was truly no wonder that his father had manipulated him so easily.

  My mother let out an amused huff, shaking her head. “I’ll leave him to you, then. Make sure he actually gets ready this time.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Yssac promised, though the way he said it made it sound more like a challenge than an obligation. My mother gave me one last glance, a soft smile tugging at her lips before she turned and disappeared down the hall, no doubt off to finish her own preparations.

  The moment she was gone, I turned back to Yssac, shifting the book under my arm. “I don’t need your help getting dressed.”

  “I wasn’t planning on helping,” he said, leaning casually against the wall beside my door. “I’d rather not risk you stabbing me with a button hook just to prove a point.”

  I snorted, pushing open the door to my room. “Good. Then you can wait outside.”

  My room was just as I had left it—books stacked neatly on the shelves, the large window open slightly to let in the fresh air. My formal attire had already been laid out for me, and I eyed it with mild distaste. The suit itself was made of fine, tailored fabric; emerald green with gold embroidery curling along the edges, marking my status as a royal. It was nothing overly extravagant but it was still a reminder of what today meant.

  I released another heavy sigh, letting my horns manifest as I started to unbutton my shirt. Caspian had kept his promise to help manage the changes and he always seemed to know what was happening before I did. He warned me to let my body breathe before the ball, a sort of “reset” considering the fact that heightened emotions often led to unwanted transformations. The last thing I needed was for my horns to appear in the middle of the grand ballroom, sparking rumors before I even had the chance to be known.

  I stepped over to the mirror, adjusting the jacket as I watched the faint shimmer of my scales retreat beneath my skin, the ridges of my horns vanishing as if they had never been there. It was just one night; I just had to get through one night.