Page 7

If the rumors held any truth, perhaps these negotiations would not be the disaster I anticipated.

A firm knock at the heavy wooden door broke the silence.

"Enter," I called, recognizing the heavy tread outside.

Sanyra walked into the solar with the fluid confidence that made her our finest general. My cousin was one of the few souls in the universe whose loyalty and counsel I never doubted. Seeing her standing tall, her silver-white hair bound in an intricate warrior's braid and her amber eyes bright with sharp focus, loosened the knot between my shoulder blades.

"You're brooding again," she said without preamble, crossing to stand beside me at the window. "I can always tell. You get this look, like you're trying to set the world on fire with your mind."

"I've already done that once," I said, the words coming out bitter. "Didn't work out well for anyone involved."

Sanyra's gaze softened with genuine warmth. She reached out and rested a heavy hand on my armored shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

"Kavan. You can't keep doing this to yourself. What happened was a tragedy, but you can't change it. All you can do is move forward and make sure our people have a future worth waking up for."

I wanted to accept her words and bury the guilt that had festered in my gut since the stasis pods released us. But every time I closed my eyes, I still saw Marion's pale face in the moonlight, the forty-seven cold stasis pods, and the blackened earth of that distant valley.

"The Alliance vessel is about to land," Sanyra continued, her tone shifting to something more businesslike. "I wanted to brief you before we go out to meet them."

I inclined my head, grateful for the shift in subject. "What do we know?"

"Not much, unfortunately. The communication was brief, standard diplomatic protocol. They're sending a small delegation to assess our reintegration needs and help facilitate our return to Alliance membership." She paused, and a glimmer of dry humor touched her expression. "They mentioned the lead diplomat is human."

I looked at her squarely. "I'd heard that. It's unexpected."

"I thought so too. But perhaps it's a good sign?" Sanyra tilted her head, considering the strategy. "The Alliance knows how we feel about humans. Sending a human diplomat suggests they're trying to build trust rather than simply impose their will."

Her logic was sound. Drakhoni had always maintained a protective reverence for humankind. They were so fragile and brief compared to our long centuries, yet they possessed an emotional depth and tenacity that continually drew our warriors to their shores. My own childhood tutor had been a human woman named Murdette, claimed as a mate by one of my father's trusted captains before I drew my first breath. She had taught me letters, the language of her people, told me stories of Earth's varied lands, and demonstrated that true strength did not always require dragon scales.

Murdette still managed my royal household today, directing the castle staff with the same sharp tongue and steady grace she had possessed during my youth, even if her joints ached with the weather. The venom that bonded her to her mate had gifted her a dragon's lifespan, allowing her to survive the long stasis that would have claimed an ordinary mortal. She remained a beloved fixture in my life, living proof that my touch did not always bring ruin.

"You're right," I said finally. "A human diplomat is a good sign. It shows they're at least trying to approach this with some sensitivity."

"Exactly." Sanyra offered a fierce, confident grin. "So let's meet them and show them the Drakhoni are ready to rejoin the universe. We've been asleep long enough."

I followed her out of the solar and into the wide stone corridors. Our boots struck a steady rhythm against the flagstones while our honor guard fell into formation behind us. We descended the sweeping grand staircase and traversed the great hall, where shafts of morning light cut through the arched windows, splashing the polished floors in brilliant gold. This fortress had been my home for nine centuries, including the lost years of stasis, and moving through its vaulted halls felt like waking from a heavy dream into sharp reality.

We passed beneath the portcullis into the courtyard and made our way toward the open landing plateau just beyond the perimeter walls. The morning air was crisp and invigorating, thick with the scent of mountain pines, moist earth, and the wild alpine blossoms carpeting the lower slopes.

The Alliance transport was already on its final approach, its polished hull gleaming in the sunlight as thrusters adjusted for a smooth touchdown. The dragon beneath my skin coiled with natural caution, but I kept the beast firmly in check. We were here to build peace, not wage war.

The vessel settled onto the stone pads with a muted hum of displaced air, far quieter and more refined than the crude ships I remembered from centuries past. The main ramp hissed open, lowering to touch the ground, and the delegation began to disembark. Two Vaktaire warriors descended first, tall and alert in their formal body armor, followed by a diminutive blue-skinned Framaddi female whose rank was noted in our dispatch.

Then she walked down the ramp.

The human female was small, barely reaching the center of my chest, with thick waves of honey-blonde hair that caught the mountain wind and spilled across her shoulders despite being braided. She wore a heavy gown of deep emerald velvet that moved fluidly around her legs as she walked. Her gaze was sharp and attentive, actively reading the landing field, noting the guards, and cataloging every detail before she had taken five paces. Her features were striking, with high cheekbones and a soft mouth, carrying an innate composure that had nothing to do with diplomatic theater.

Her physical beauty registered immediately, striking a sudden chord through my chest.

Then the morning wind shifted across the field, and the world stopped turning.

No.

Beneath the dry smell of the shuttle and the new fabric of her gown, beneath the sterile traces of starships and alien worlds, her true scent hit my senses. Crushed wildflowers and summer rain. Sweet, intoxicating, and utterly impossible.

It was Marion's scent.

The fragrance was faint, more like a distant memory than a physical reality, but every instinct in my body recognized it with absolute certainty. Entangled beneath that sweet air, subtle enough that it felt like an illusion, was the unmistakable hum of a blood song. It was not the exact, low melody that had haunted my thoughts for seven centuries, but it was close enough that my inner beast slammed against my ribs with staggering force.