T– 4 days.
I honestly don’t know what’s worse at this point. My supposedly secret solo operation has somehow transformed into a multifaceted strike force with more participants than a military campaign. Or that our frighteningly intelligent children read us adults like open books written in large, simple fonts.
The realization that we’ve been thoroughly outmaneuvered by our own offspring is both humbling and slightly terrifying. These kids have strategic minds that would put seasoned generals to shame, and they’re applying those abilities to family matchmaking with the enthusiasm usually reserved for favorite hobbies.
So far, only Allister, Lily, and Thorne remain blissfully unaware of the romantic conspiracy brewing around them. Then again, knowing Allister’s opportunistic nature, he’d probably try to ransom the information to the highest bidder if he caught wind of what we’re planning. That boy inherited both the worst mercenary instincts of dragons and the calculating nature of his other supernatural heritage.
Thorne, bless her innocent heart, would likely squeal with excitement and try to make everything happen faster if she knew about Mina’s plans. Her enthusiasm for family expansion knows no bounds, and subtlety has never been one of her stronger personality traits.
As for Lily, I’m genuinely not sure how she would react to the entire situation. She’s always been the most unpredictable of our younger generation—sometimes wise beyond her years, other times completely absorbed in whatever captures her attention at the moment.
I’ve spent the morning phasing through Shadowcarve Academy multiple times. My displacer beast abilities allowing me to check and recheck that everyone is following our carefully orchestrated script to perfection. The sight of our conspiracy unfolding exactly as planned fills me with the satisfaction that comes from seeing months of careful observation and preparation finally bearing fruit.
My three primary targets are moving through their routines with clockwork precision, completely unaware that their schedules are being monitored and their movements catalogued for romantic purposes. It’s absolutely wonderful when a complex plan comes together so seamlessly.
We have approximately four days remaining before Mina goes into her fertile season, though dragon biology has a tendency to follow its own mysterious timeline rather than human convenience. She could enter her receptive period sooner if her dragonic instincts decide to speed up the process, as they sometimes do when emotional or environmental factors align in unexpected ways.
I materialize at the academy stables, where the familiar scents of hay, leather, and horse greet me like old friends. The massive stone structure houses some of the finest war mounts on the continent, each one bred for both intelligence and loyalty besides their impressive physical capabilities.
I find Leander conducting Lily’s riding lesson on her father’s enormous war horse, and the sight immediately brings a smile to my face. The beast is absolutely massive—easily seventeen hands high with muscles that ripple beneath its glossy coat. While little almost-six-year-old Lily bounces along on his broad back like a tiny rider on a living mountain.
What makes the scene particularly endearing is that Lily does not know that Leander maintains complete control of the horse through subtle cues and commands. She believes she’s directing this magnificent creature all by herself, and her confidence radiates from every small gesture.
“Daddy Ziggy, look at me!” Lily shrieks with pure joy, waving one hand enthusiastically in my direction while her small legs grip the saddle with determination.
“Both hands on the reins, Lily,” Leander calls out with practiced patience, shaking his head as he tries unsuccessfully to suppress his laughter. “Daddy Ziggy can see you perfectly well.”
“How are you doing, man?” I ask as we shake hands when I get close enough for conversation. He responds with a characteristic shoulder shrug that means everything is proceeding normally.
“Pretty good overall,” he replies, his attention split between our conversation and monitoring Lily’s progress. “I have all the kids scheduled for riding lessons today except for Raven.”
“Why not Raven?” I arch an eyebrow as I study his expression, genuinely curious since I was under the distinct impression that Mina wanted all the children to receive comprehensive equestrian training.
“Thauglor announced Raven has wings and therefore does not need riding lessons,” Leander explains with a huffed laugh that suggests he found the entire exchange highly entertaining. “Raven immediately parroted exactly what her father said, and then the two of them flared their wings simultaneously before taking off together into the sky.”
The mental image of father and daughter making their dramatic aerial exit sends Leander into renewed laughter. “Just wait until Raven figures out that when she’s older, she’s going to be required to ride in formal processionals because of her position in the line of succession. Royal protocol doesn’t always accommodate personal preferences about transportation methods.”
His amusement is infectious, but then his expression grows more serious and excited. “In all honesty, I’m currently trying to negotiate with a herd of black unicorns to allow their foals to come here for their education and training.”
“Black unicorns?” I repeat, shocked beyond words. “I didn’t even know such creatures existed. I thought all unicorns were extinct centuries ago.”
“For every creature of light and purity, there is an abyssal counterpart to maintain cosmic balance,” Leander explains with the matter-of-fact tone of someone discussing basic supernatural biology. “Unicorns and black unicorns, dragons, and basilisks, displacer beasts, and fey panthers—the list goes on indefinitely. The universe requires equilibrium in all things.”
“I see what you mean, but I’m still confused about something,” I admit, settling down onto a nearby hay bale to process this information more thoroughly. “So, basilisks are considered the opposite balance to dragons? How does that classification system even work?”
“Mina saw the creature pairings in one of her prophetic visions—which supernatural beings serve as counterbalances to others in the grand design,” Leander explains with a casual shrug, turning his attention back to monitoring Lily’s progress. She has her father’s war horse weaving expertly between the training posts exactly as she’s supposed to, her small form moving in perfect harmony with the massive animal’s gait.
The sound of approaching footsteps draws our attention to Klauth’s arrival, with Allister walking beside him with that distinctive posture that somehow conveys superiority despite his young age.
“We’re early for our scheduled session,” Klauth announces with characteristic directness, and Leander simply nods in acknowledgment.
“I’ll leave you gentlemen to your lessons,” I say, rising from the hay bale and extending my hand to shake with both adults and, somewhat reluctantly, with Allister as well.
Even at his young age, Allister radiates an unmistakably haughty atmosphere that makes every interaction feel like he’s evaluating whether you’re worthy of his attention. I hate to acknowledge it, but I’m suspecting he inherited the absolute worst personality traits from both sides of his dragonic heritage—the arrogance of ancient dragons combined with whatever calculating coldness runs in his other bloodline.
The combination is creating a child who views the world through the lens of personal advantage and social hierarchy, which doesn’t bode well for his future relationships or his role within our family structure. Still, he’s young enough that there’s hope for positive influence and character development, assuming we can find the right approaches to reach him.
Walking awayfrom the stables proves easier than expected, my feet carrying me across the sprawling campus grounds with purposeful strides. The afternoon sunlight filters through ancient oak trees that have witnessed centuries of education, their massive trunks and spreading canopies creating natural corridors between the academy’s impressive stone buildings.
