“Wherever the truth begins,” he said simply, offering me an encouraging smile.
So I told him everything, from the moment the Korythid breached the wards, to touching the Dragon scale and appearing in the cavern. I told him about the flames that threatened to consume me, and the way the Dragon’s voice had been everywhere and nowhere. The way he’d reached inside of my mind without touching me, and the warning he’d given about my mana before I demanded it from him anyway.
Isren listened without interrupting, though something flickered behind his eyes. Thoughtfulness. Calculation. Maybe even… concern?
Finally, he let out a slow exhale. “Veyr has always been particularly prideful?—”
“Veyr?” I cut in, my eyebrows rising higher. “As in the name of the Drakmor rune?”
My fingers drifted over the blankets, sketching invisible lines—the same arcs and curves etched into my mother’s amulet, the one shaped like a dragon poised to take flight.
The Archmage pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Did I not mention that before? Surely I must have. But yes, that is your Dragon’s name.”
I bit back a wave of irritation, but Draven didn’t bother to hide his.
“No. You didn’t,” he said flatly.
Isren waved a hand in a gesture that was somehow both apologetic and dismissive. “Well. You know now. It has never sat well with Veyr that his descendants were the ones who started the war.”
I stared at him. “What war? Everyone knows the divide between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts happened so long ago, no one even remembers the cause.”
A sad smile touched the Archmage’s lips. “There were no Seelie and Unseelie Courts then. No such lines.” His gaze went distant, golden eyes softening. “Back then, there were simply the fae. Those who could shift were regarded as no different than the seasonal Courts.”
The distinction settled through me like an echo from an older world that was both familiar and foreign all at once.
Isren continued, voice growing softer. “And as most stories go, it all began with a queen who was torn between two loves. Two kingdoms.”
My fingers curled in the blankets.
Somehow the story already felt familiar. But hearing Isren say it aloud made it sound less like history and more like fate threading itself through the room.
“As you are uniquely aware, the Visionary chooses the Winter Court bride based on the mana that will best serve theland.” The corner of his lips tilted up, like he was thinking the same thing that I was.
That had worked out badly for Winter in my case.
“And as you’re also uniquely aware, the bride is generally given very little choice in the matter…” Isren said more gravely.
A rare bit of shame emanated from Draven’s end of the bond, and I didn’t try to reassure him, not over this.
I was grateful that I had found my soulmate, but I sure as hells hadn’t been helpful to Winter. And the turn of my circumstances didn’t change the reality that if things had gone differently, if Draven had been a monster in truth, there wouldn’t have been a shards-damned thing I could have done about it.
Logically, I understood where he had been coming from. Millenia of tradition, a position most fae throughout history would have considered an honor, and the necessary weighing of one girl’s happiness against the fate of a kingdom.
”Was this before the Visionary was chained?” I clarified.
Once, the Archmage had indicated that before the Visionary was chained, the choice felt less like chains and more like a helping hand from fate, that the forcible binding of the Shard Mother’s vessel changed things.
“No. Indeed, this was after. And the female she chose was already promised to another, a male she loved. A Skaldwing. But the king had her taken anyway… for the good of the Court.”
Naturally, I thought with a huff.
Would it help you to know that Nevara warned me ahead of time that I might want to give you back?His thoughts were tinged with grief, as they always were when he said her name, but the slightest bit of levity as well.
That isn’t the point,I thought back, though it did bring me a small bit of joy to remember how I had irritated him in those early weeks.
I know,he assured me.
Isren’s gaze danced between us before he continued, thoughtfully. “I understand that over time, she developed a fondness for the king, if not love.”
