Cerys sat at the far end of her father’s council table, holding her hands tightly on her lap. She resisted the urge to tap her fingers against her knee—a habit her mother had scolded her on countless times. ’A princess must never fidget,’ she’d say. ’Stillness is grace.’ So Cerys sat silently and unmoving like a doll tucked in the corner of a nursery.

  But unlike a doll, Cerys had ears. And thanks to the dragon in her soul, she could hear everything.

  Every mutter, every anxious whisper between the men seated around the table reached her ears as clearly as if they had spoken directly to her. Nearly two dozen advisors filled the council chamber, hand-selected by Arnav for their various strengths—some military, some economic, and a few were simply wealthy enough to buy their seat. But none were immune from suspicion. In a room like this, with a king like Arnav, everyone was always watching their backs.

  But today, the one doing the listening wasn’t some lowly servant. It was the princess.

  Ask any of the men in this room, and they’d tell you Cerys was just as terrifying as her father—perhaps even more so. One glance at Arnav, and you could tell whether he’d laugh or kill you. But Cerys? She was cold… composed. She smiled when she spoke—even when she was threatening someone.

  The advisors occasionally glanced toward the princess. Cerys, though, kept her attention on the two empty chairs beside her. Her father had called this meeting over an hour ago, yet neither he nor her mother had arrived.

  The princess knew this was a bad sign.

  If Arnav was late, it meant he was busy. And if he was busy, it meant someone was being tortured. Probably several someones. It was her father’s way of working through the anger and rage. And after the latest reports from the front lines, he had plenty to be furious about.

  Cerys saw it when news of the army’s retreat from Jux reached Dunstead. Arnav hadn’t been angry—he had been enraged. Servants had been dragged down to the dungeons, and their screams echoed for hours as the king unleashed his fury on them. The fact that none of them died was a miracle.

  When General Higgins had sent word of a plan to pull the newly crowned king of Sylvaris away from the front lines, Arnav had stopped his torture sessions. It was a clever move. The king of Drurus didn’t believe in hope. He found the word laughable. But strategy? That he could appreciate.

  And Higgins’s plan had promise. With Rhett gone, distracted elsewhere in his kingdom, the Drurus army could push back and reclaim their position in Jux.

  Finally—after what felt like an eternity—the doors to the council chambers opened, and a flustered usher rushed inside.

  “Presenting His Majesty, King Arnav, and Her Majesty, Queen Kendra of Drurus!”

  Chairs scraped quickly across the floor as everyone stood to their feet. Cerys rose more slowly, remaining graceful as her parents entered. Her father’s shirt was soaked in blood—not surprising. Steam rose off his body, and his heat enveloped the room like a walking furnace.

  The Queen followed beside him, glancing briefly at her daughter, but saying nothing.

  When Arnav reached the head of the table, he didn’t sit. Instead, he placed his hands against the wood, causing it to smoke and blacken under his touch.

  “How weak is this kingdom?” He questioned at last, but he wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular. Which only made it worse.

  No one answered; only a few dared to breathe in the hot air. Even Cerys, who was hard to frighten, felt uneasy by her father’s mood.

  Then, Arnav slammed both fists onto the table, causing the entire room to jump.

  “I asked a question!” he bellowed, looking at everyone. The heat radiating off him intensified.

  “N-n-no, Your Majesty,” one advisor stammered.

  “Then why are there not one, not two, but three kingdoms invading my lands?!”

  Arnav shoved away from the table as he began to pace. Cerys frowned, her mind racing. Three? They had known about Sylvaris crossing into their territory and suspected Vespera likely backed Rhett. But who was the third?

  Someone else, who clearly lacked self-preservation, dared to ask.

  “I–I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but who else has invaded Drurus?”

  Arnav stopped mid-step, and for a second, the temperature in the room cooled off.

  “Oh, let me tell you,” he said coldly, turning his gaze to the man who had spoken. He began to walk toward him… slowly. “We know Sylvaris crossed our border and that Vespera is with them. But now—”

  Without warning, he reached the trembling advisor and seized him by the throat.

  “Now Riven has come up from the south and nearly taken every inch of land below Lake Velmora. They crossed our border days ago, and no one—no one—noticed!”

  The man gasped and choked as Arnav’s grip tightened, burning his flesh. Cerys didn’t flinch, and neither did her mother.

  Before the man could go limp, Arnav threw him across the chamber. He landed with a thud against the floor, wheezing but alive.

  “So tell me,” Arnav growled as he looked around at the remaining council members. “How did we not see it coming?”

  “We weren’t looking to the south—” someone began, perhaps thinking it would save them if they spoke fast enough.

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  “We weren’t looking to the south!” Arnav mocked with a snarl. “No, we were too busy looking easy, where we’re still failing!”

  The room was silent, but every man was thinking the same thing.

  “Ah, I can see it in your eyes,” the king said as he smirked. “You want to know how General Higgins’s grand plan to push east fared, don’t you?”

  He returned to his spot at the head of the table, but still did not sit.

  “Let me save you the trouble… it was a disaster!”

  Cerys’s heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her face neutral. She hated hearing about Sean’s failures—especially from her father. Because now, in her father’s eyes, Sean would be a disappointment. A shadow of what he once was.

  “I’ve spent years expanding this kingdom,” Arnav spat, pacing again like a caged animal. “Years! I’ve waited, I’ve strategized, I’ve sacrificed. And for what? For everything to fall apart in a matter of weeks? Am I to rule over dust and rubble? Is that what I am now—the king of nothing?!”

  “You’re a great king, my love,” Kendra said gently. She was the only one in the room who could calm Arnav without risk of him harming her. “But you’ve placed your faith in people who haven’t earned it.”

  “And what would you have me do?” Arnav questioned as his eyes flashed red.

  “Let the ash fall,” Kendra suggested, colder now. “Let the lava consume them. You’ve received the reports: the forces from the east will most likely join with those from the south. Let them converge. Let them think they’ve gained ground. Then, you and Cerys wait until nightfall, and—”

  The room started to tremble, causing the Queen to stop talking. Rumbling went through the walls, and murmurs went through the chamber. Many thought it was an earthquake. It wasn’t unheard of. The palace, after all, was carved into a mountain.

  But then the walls started to crack like thunder, and the sound of a dragon’s roar went out elsewhere in the palace.

  Cerys’s head snapped toward the sound. She didn’t wait for permission and ran to the nearest window, throwing it open as a gust of wind rushed past her. She leaned out, searching the sky, until she saw something moving in the gardens below. A bluish-green dragon… Blaise.

  She clenched her jaw as anger rose in her chest, causing her body to steam. That dragon should not have been there. Prince Emmett was near death—he wasn’t supposed to have the strength to shift.

  “Do I have your permission to kill him?” She questioned, turning to face her father.

  Arnav was already at her side, watching the dragon.

  “He was supposed to be dormant,” he muttered with a hiss. “The prince was dying…”

  “Father!” Cerys snapped, clenching her fists so hard that her nails were piercing the skin on her palms.

  “Yes!” Arnav snarled with rage. “Take care of him. Now!”

  Cerys didn’t wait another second. She spun on her heels and sprinted down the corridor. There was no time to reach the ground floor—not when Blaise could take off from the gardens at any second. She turned left, sliding into a hall and throwing open the doors to the nearest balcony. Without hesitation, she climbed the railing. Scales spread across her skin like wildfire, and when she jumped, the shift started.

  By the time Cerys was on the ground, she was a dragon—black as the night, with reddish tones on her belly and wings. Her head snapped to Blaise, who stared at her with wide eyes. At first, he lowered his head, making soft, affectionate rumbles toward the female dragon. He recognized her as his fiancée, as someone who should love him.

  But Blaise didn’t understand. He had never understood. Cerys never cared for him. In truth, she loathed him—had from the very beginning when she first met him at five years old. And now, with nothing left to lose, she would show him.

  The female dragon squared her shoulders as smoke curled from her snout. With a deep breath, she let out a violent roar, sending lava-laced spittle flying like droplets of fire.

  Before Blaise could react, she rushed forward.

  He was confused, wondering why Cerys and her dragon were being aggressive. But rather than standing his ground or fighting against her, he spread his wings and attempted to take to the sky. But he was too slow.

  Cerys slammed into him, sending the male dragon stumbling backward into hedges and statues. Her claws dug into Blaise’s side as she snapped at his throat, but he twisted his body, knocking her back with a hit from his massive wing. She landed with a roll and jumped before he could catch his breath. Blaise tried to dodge, but Cerys was on him again—slashing, biting, spitting lava into the soft membranes of his wings.

  He roared in pain before sending a burst of icy water out from his paws. The frost exploded against her chest like dozens of arrows, biting into her lava-hardened scales. The princess stumbled back—just for a second—but that was all Blaise needed.

  His wings flapped frantically, creating a veil of snowy fog around him. With a grunt, he launched into the sky, and his muscles strained under the effort. He wasn’t as fast as he once was, but he was finally in the air.

  Once the iciness had melted on her chest, Cerys was finally able to focus once again on Blaise. But as she rushed into the fog he created, she quickly realized that he was gone. She looked upward and, with a snarl, followed him into the sky.

  They soared beyond the palace walls, past the watchtowers, and over the city of Dunstead. A trail of black smoke followed the princess, while a frosty mist trailed behind the prince. Despite Blaise’s longer wingspan, Cerys was able to catch up to the sluggish dragon. It had been so long since Emmett had last shifted, and that had played into the princess’s favor.

  Blaise banked hard, veering to the left. With a deep breath, he filled the sky with a freezing mist, sending shards of ice toward the female dragon. She twisted in the air, dodging a few while others sliced into her scales. None of it was fatal, but one did slice into one of her front paws, causing it to bleed.

  But that wouldn’t slow her down.

  She pushed herself forward, crashing into Blaise midair. Their wings tangled together, and their tails thrashed against one another. The prince let out a roar and reluctantly bit into her neck, but his fangs didn’t pierce deep enough.

  Cerys slammed her tail into his left wing, sending a wave of burning heat into the frost dragon as it tore a hole through the membrane. He snarled, releasing her neck. The princess shoved against him, digging her claws into his chest, and with one final push, she sent him plummeting from the sky.

  The wind rushed past Cerys as she dived down after him. Lava dripped from her mouth while Blaise struggled to catch enough air with his damaged wing. Just before he slammed into a building, with a city of screaming people below, he pulled up—barely. His claws scraped against a home, shredding the roof as he pushed himself off it, beating his wings frantically to climb again.

  He needed to escape, to climb high up into the sky where it was too cold for Cerys to follow. If he could get up there, he could disappear and head east—toward home.

  The female dragon roared as she raced toward him. The distance closed terrifyingly quick, and she sliced her claws along his back legs. Blaise faltered as another hit went to his right wing and shoulder. Then, with the larger dragon unable to escape, Cerys bit down hard into the base of his neck.

  His shriek of panic echoed around the city, but the princess didn’t let go. Lava rushed up from her chest, spewing from her mouth and onto his neck, burning through scales and flesh. He writhed beneath her, flapping his wings wildly as he tried to shake her loose—but his strength was fading. Ice tried to form around her mouth, but the heat from her body melted it instantly. Her claws gripped his side, finding the soft spots between the ribs.

  His bones cracked under the pressure.

  His left wing stopped moving.

  And Cerys pushed him downward as her jaws yanked upward.

  Together, they plummeted toward the northern part of the city, near the palace. Blaise’s body crashed into a watch tower, collapsing it beneath his weight. Cerys landed a second later, sliding across the ground as she breathlessly panted. The male dragon’s body lay twisted among the broken stone, and one of his wings was bent at an unnatural angle.

  But he didn’t move… not anymore. Not when his head laid several feet away, severed at the neck by her lava.