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I glanced down at myself, taking in the gray-blue jumpsuit that had become my daily uniform since joining Asad Intelligence. It was comfortable, practical, breathable, and equipped with plenty of pockets. Designed to fit a wide range of body types without actually flattering any of them. The color washed me out, and the cut was boxy. It had all the aesthetic appeal of a hospital gown, and I had made my peace with that, mostly.

The fabric replicator was tucked into a small room near the back of the shuttle, a piece of technology that still felt like magic no matter how many times I used it. Binwee began scrolling through options, images flickering across the screen.

"The Drakhoni culture is heavily influenced by Earth customs," she explained. "Not surprising, considering most of their mates are human. They value formality, respect for hierarchy, and traditional gender presentations, though don't let that fool you into thinking their women are delicate. Female Drakhoni are just as fierce as the males, sometimes more so."

She selected a design, and my breath caught when the image materialized on the screen. It was a gown like the kind I had only ever seen in historical dramas and fantasy films. It had a fitted bodice with long sleeves, a flowing skirt that would brush the floor, and intricate embroidery along the neckline and cuffs. It was a deep emerald green, exactly the color that would bring out my eyes.

"Oh," I breathed, unable to keep the delight from my voice. "It's beautiful."

Binwee glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. "You're not going to get all starry-eyed about this, are you?"

"No," I lied.

I had always loved historical fiction, having spent countless hours reading romance novels set in medieval times and imagining what it would be like to live in a world of castles, knights, and grand balls. I'd watched the Lord of the Rings trilogy until my eyes nearly bled. The rational part of my brain knew this was a mission, but the part of me that used to play dress-up in my mother's closet was practically vibrating.

"Leila," Binwee said, her tone sharpening. "This isn't a romantic adventure. This is a diplomatic mission to a potentially hostile planet."

"I know that," I said, trying to sound more professional than I felt. "I'm focused. I promise."

She studied me, then sighed. "The story of King Kavan and Lady Marion is tragic, yes. But it's also a cautionary tale about what happens when emotions override judgment. Kavan lost control and killed thousands of people. The Alliance had to put an entire planet into forced hibernation because one dragon couldn't contain his anger."

The words sobered me, mostly. There was still a stubborn corner of my brain, the part that had cried over Romeo and Juliet in high school, that had swooned over Mr. Darcy and Heathcliff, that found the whole thing unbearably romantic. A king who loved so deeply that he burned the world when his beloved was taken from him felt like the stuff of legends, not cautionary tales.

I kept that opinion to myself.

"I'll keep my head," I assured her, reaching out to trace the outline of the gown on the screen. "I know what I'm here to do."

Binwee didn't look entirely convinced, but she activated the replicator. The machine hummed, and within minutes the dress materialized in the collection chamber, along with soft leather boots and a cloak fastened with an ornate silver clasp.

I changed in the small adjoining room. When I emerged, I couldn't help but do a little spin, the skirt swirling around my legs, the fabric soft as worn linen against my palms.

"I feel like I'm playing dress-up," I admitted. "In the best possible way."

"Just remember this isn't a game." Binwee pulled up another interface and began displaying information about Drakhoni customs. "When you meet King Kavan, you'll need to curtsy, yes, actually curtsy. Address him as 'Your Majesty' or 'Sire.' Don't make direct eye contact unless he initiates it first. And whatever you do, don't touch him without permission. Dragons are very particular about physical contact. Most see it as an indicator of mating interest."

I committed it to memory the way I used to memorize lesson plans. "What about the mating bonds? The briefing mentioned something about venom?"

"Ah, yes." Binwee's expression grew more serious. "When a Drakhoni takes a mate, they bite them during mating. The venom enters the human's bloodstream and fundamentally alters their physiology. It extends their lifespan to match the dragon's, which is typically around a thousand years. It also makes them more resilient, able to withstand things like extreme temperatures and, apparently, seven hundred and fifty years of forced hibernation."

I tried to wrap my mind around that. "So there could be humans on Drakhone who were taken from Earth in the 1200s? People who are hundreds of years old?"

"Exactly. Though they'll appear much younger. The venom slows aging considerably." She paused, then added, "It's also irreversible. Once you're envenomated, you're bound to that dragon for life. Their lifespan becomes yours, their fate becomes yours. It's not something to be taken lightly."

I thought about what it would mean to live for a thousand years, to watch the world change and keep changing while you remained essentially the same. It sounded lonely, even with someone beside you.

"Dragons can be charming," Binwee continued, her voice taking on that warning tone I knew well. "They're beautiful, powerful, and they know how to use both to their advantage. But they can also be assholes, Leila. Don't let yourself get swept up in the romance of it all. Keep your wits about you."

"I will," I promised, meaning it this time. I had a job to do. Whatever romantic notions I harbored about medieval customs and dragon kings, they had no place in the work.

The shuttle's navigation system chimed. "Approaching Drakhone. Estimated landing in fifteen minutes."

My stomach did a complicated flip. I moved back to the observation lounge and pressed close to the viewport as the planet came into view.

Drakhone was breathtaking. The continents spread out in deep greens and snow-capped peaks, rivers catching the light like threads of hammered silver. As we descended through the atmosphere, I made out more detail: broad valleys, crystalline lakes, and in the distance a city built into the side of a mountain, its white stone walls almost luminous in the sunlight.

"That's Argia," Binwee said, coming to stand beside me. "The capital. King Kavan's castle is at the highest point."

It was a massive structure, tall spires reaching toward the sky as if they meant to hold it up. It looked exactly like the kind of place that existed in fairy tales and nowhere else. My pulse kicked up a notch, and I couldn't have said how much of it was nerves.