Chapter 2: The cover

...*******In the dining hall..*********...

The dining room was grand, with a great black table laden full of food. Candles flickered, casting shadows against the walls. Nyx sat in her usual place—off from the head of the table, near the servants' door.

Seated across from her, Draco and Ignis sneered. Lady Seraphis, their mother, sat beside Uncle Marius, her pointed eyes were watchful. At the head of the table, Grand Elder Pyrhus sat in cold silence, his eyes serious.

Nyx's father, Zephyr, ignored them, eating in silence.

"How. surprising," Seraphis said, sipping wine. "Even the half-breed is joining us tonight."

Nyx stabbed a piece of fruit with her knife. "I wouldn't dare to miss it," she replied.

The table grew quiet

...********After a while....********...

Ignis "accidentally" spilled his cup, wine dripping onto Nyx's dress.

"Oops," he smiled.

Last time, she would have said nothing. But

this time, she slapped a drop of wine straight back at him.

"Oops," she grinned.

Ignis stood up, furious, but Uncle Marius snapped, "Sit. Down."

Nyx dabbed at her dress, smothering her grin.

Draco leaned forward, playing nice. "Nyx, why in the world do you waste your time training? You'll never really be a real dragon."

The table grew quiet. Zephyr even stopped eating.

Nyx put down her fork. "You're right. I likely won't."

Draco's face was startled—he hadn't expected her to agree.

Then she went on, "But then, neither will you… if the Elders find out about the humans you sneaked into the west tower."

Draco went white.

"What?" Marius's voice snapped.

Nyx sipped her water, having an innocent look on her face. "Oh. Was that a secret?"

Seraphis's hands clenched the table. "Lies! My son would never—"

"Enough." Grand Elder Pyrhus's voice was thunder. "Draco. Explain."

As Draco staggered, Nyx caught Seraphis's glance—and smiled.

The grand elder demanded that Nyx leave the room. When Nyx had barely made it out of the dining hall the screaming began. She pressed her ear against the cold stone door, her racing heart.

"YOU SHAMED ME IN FRONT OF THE ELDERS!" Seraphis's yell could shatter glass. A loud CRACK echoed out - probably Draco slapped in the face.

"Mother, please—"

"SILENCE!" Another slap. "You have no concept of what you've done. If this gets out—"

And then Uncle Marius's booming voice came in: "That's it. We settle this now."

Nyx had the courage to look through the crack in the door just as Grand Elder Pyrhus gagged over clearing his throat.

"This is a grave situation," the old dragon wheezed. "Interacting with humans is forbidden. If this is true, it might—"

"Oh come OFF it, Pyrhus!" Seraphis flashed, her spotless calm dispelled. "Everyone is aware your grandson brought in firewine last summer! Or shall I have the scribes recite THAT episode?"

Pyrhus's wrinkled face purpled. "That was. unrelated!"

Marius slammed his fist on the table, and the plates rang out. "Enough politics. This is what happened: Nyx lied. End of story."

Pyrhus could protest before Seraphis snapped her fingers. A scribe came over with parchment and ink.

"Let me write the official report," she said demurely. "'Upon thorough investigation, the accusations were found to be baseless. The attention-seeking half-breed Nyx fabricated the tale to—'"

"You can't just—"

Pyrhus started.

"'—to sow discord within the family,'"

Seraphis continued loudly, over him. "'Suggested penalty: extra labor and meager meals for a month.There. Done."

She stamped the paper with the clan seal before anyone could even blink

As the "meeting" broke up, Nyx heard Seraphis mutter at Pyrhus:

"Remember who controls the eastern trade routes, Elder. Your little vineyard would be SO vulnerable to. bandit raids this time of year."

Pyrhus's shoulders fell. ".The case is closed."

...********Back to Nyx's training********...

Night after night, Nyx waited until the castle was still before she would begin her training. She would find herself a lone candle, its flickering flame barely illuminating the pages in her stolen book. The writing was ancient and deceptive, but she read it over and over and over again until she was able to recite every command.

She sat cross-legged on chilly stone, hands pressed against her chest where the seal lay heavy upon her heart. She breathed slowly, imagining threads of flame the width of sparks weaving their way through her veins, searching out the weaknesses of the seal. Some evenings, nothing. On other evenings, a gentle pulsing beneath her fingertips so subtle that she wondered if she imagined it.

She made slow progress, but Nyx did not relent.

...********A few days later********...

The castle buzzed with new that the human king had announced a great feast to celebrate his son's ninth birthday. Invitations stamped with the royal seal were dispatched to every noble house, including the dragon clan's as well.

Nyx listened for it in her small room. The maids ran along the corridors, chatting about silks and jewels, and her cousins Draco and Ignis boasting of what they would do to impress the human court.

Then Aunt Seraphis broke the news, her voice ringing in the great hall:

"The crown prince is heir to the human throne. Draco, you will befriend him. That is not a request."

Nyx, hovering in the background, saw how Draco's sneer wavered. So even he has something to obey.

Preparations began at once. Tailors arrived with bolts of shimmering fabric, and jewelers displayed delicate hairpins and bracelets. Nyx, as usual, was forgotten. Later in the day, a servant tossed a plain, ill-fitting dress onto her bed.

"Wear this. And don’t embarrass the family," the woman sneered before leaving.

Nyx stared at the drab gray fabric and thought, "Like I’d let them make me look pathetic"

That night, she sneaked into the empty east wing, its riches all covered in dust. She went through moth-eaten trunks, and then it was there—a gown of midnight blue, heavily embroidered with silver thread. It was out of fashion, but with some alterations, it would do.

Let them gaze on a half-blood shine.

...*******The day of the banquet*********...

The palace of the human palace's great hall glowed under crystal chandeliers, the air heavy with scent and the murmur of nobles. The walls were covered in silk banners of royal blue, embroidered with the crest of the crown prince.

Nyx noticed that only a few people were actually talking about the crown prince. Instead, the crowd closed around the second prince, a fair-haired child dripping with gems. His mother, the new queen, smiled beside him, her voice echoing around the room.

"Oh, my son has outdone even the royal tutors! Only last week, he mastered three spells at once!"

No one spoke up of how the spells were children's tricks. No one dared.

Across from him, the crown prince sat patiently. He wore nice clothes, but they were loose on his thin frame, as if nobody had bothered to have it tailored. His dark eyes were peaceful, but Nyx sensed the peace of a person who had mastered to hide.

Nyx edged out of the crushing ballroom, searching for air in the moonlit gardens. The roses there were in full flower, their perfume thick and sweet.

She hadn't noticed him coming.

"You are the dragon lord's daughter."

Nyx turned. The crown prince was a few paces back, his hands folded behind his back. Close up, he appeared even younger—and older, in a manner no child should.

"And you’re the birthday prince," she said lightly. "Though your brother seems to be enjoying it more."

A flicker of something crossed his face—amusement? Resignation?

"Stepmother says celebrations are for those who deserve them."

The words were simple, but Nyx felt the weight behind them. A mother’s love, conditional. She knew that game well.

They walked silently for a few moments, the music fading into the distance behind them. Nyx watched him out of the corner of her eye.

He's too quiet for a nine-year-old.

And she caught sight of the minute silver marks on his wrists—the kind left by binding magic.

Her stomach twisted.

Back in her previous life, Sylphie had mentioned her disciple, but only once and in passing: "A boy who knows too much and says too little."

Now Nyx wondered how much he had endured—and how much he might know about her.

A sharp voice cut through the darkness.

"Your Highness! There you are!" A servant came running over to them, gasping. "The queen requests your presence for the cake-cutting!"