Lila squeezed his hand. “Stop overthinking. We’ll handle whatever comes together.”
God, I love her strength.
Queen Serenya was already seated at the head of the long obsidian table, her silver-streaked hair swept into an elegant updo. Her golden-brown eyes sharpened the moment they entered the room.
“Mother.” Draven guided Lila to the chair beside the Queen, then took a seat next to Lila. “I’d like you to properly meet Dr. Lila Reyes.”
“Your Majesty.” Lila’s voice remained steady despite her racing heart. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”
His mother’s smile was warm but assessing. “The pleasure is mine, Dr. Reyes. I’m curious to hear how my son’s treatment is progressing.”
Here we go.
“Draven’s treatment is going better than I expected. He’s making great progress already,” Lila replied with growing confidence.
“That’s so wonderful to hear,” his mother said with approval.
After that, dinner continued with safe topics—Lila’s work on Earth, her observations about dragon psychology, and her impressions of Nova Aurora. The Queen listened intently as Lila spoke about trauma therapy and complex mental health issues, occasionally asking pointed questions that revealed her sharp intelligence.
“I’ve found that humans and dragon shifters aren’t so different mentally,” Lila explained, cutting into her perfectly prepared steak. “The core emotions, the responses to trauma—they’re remarkably similar. Although, your son is particularly stubborn about accepting help.”
His mother laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “That he gets from his father. Never met a more pigheaded dragon in my life.”
They’re getting along. Thank God.
As the meal progressed, Draven watched his mother’s approval grow. Lila’s calm intelligence, her genuine care for others, and her quiet strength—all of it was exactly what a dragon queen should possess.
She’s perfect for this role. She just doesn’t know it yet.
When the kitchen staff poured the second round of Sidaii wine, Draven felt the moment arrive. His dragon demanded acknowledgment, and his heart demanded honesty.
“Mother, there’s something you should know.” His voice carried the weight of finality. “As you suspected, Lila is my fated mate. I unofficially claimed her today, and she’s willing to give our relationship a chance. Hopefully, in the near future, she’ll accept my mate mark.”
His words floated in the air for a long moment. Lila’s face flushed crimson, her emotions a tangle of gratitude and mortification through their bond.
His mother’s gaze sharpened, then softened almost immediately. She studied Lila with new intensity, as if seeing her for the first time not as a healer, but as her potential daughter-in-law and future queen.
“Fate does not make idle choices,” his mother said quietly, her voice carrying the wisdom of someone who’d loved deeply and lost everything. “If she was chosen for you, then it was for a reason none of us can fully understand yet.”
Relief flooded through Draven so powerfully he nearly sagged in his chair. “Thank you, Mother.”
“I...” Lila stammered. “Your Majesty, I hope you don’t think I took advantage of?—”
“Child, please.” His mother reached across the table and covered Lila’s hand with her own. “Fate doesn’t ask permission. It simply is. And from what I can see, you’ve already done more for my son than eighteen years of searching accomplished.”
The rest of dinner passed in a warm haze of acceptance and growing familiarity. When the meal finally ended, Draven stood and walked over to his mother and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Then, he extended his hand to Lila.
“Would you like to see more of the castle? I’d love to show you the library—it’s one of my favorite places to escape when royal duties become overwhelming.”
Lila accepted his hand, her smile radiant despite her lingering nervousness. “I’d love that.”
As they exited the dining room, his mother’s voice followed them. “Draven, Lila.”
He turned back to find his mother watching them with knowing eyes.
“Don’t let fear make you wait too long,” she said simply. “Some chances don’t come twice.”
Message received, Mother.
