“Come here.”

  I gripped Isadora’s hand tighter, the Empress’s words echoing throughout the room. I didn’t know why she was looking at me like that, her expression a mixture of shock and something else—something raw and unguarded. I had expected many reactions from the Emperor and Empress when I was introduced, but not this. Not the way the color had drained from her face, the way her breath had hitched as if she had seen something impossible.

  I glanced up at Isadora, but her expression was unreadable. Her grip on my hand remained steady, squeezing it tightly before she released it. She slowly knelt down, a gentle smile on her face as our eyes met.

  “Go ahead, Cyran,” she whispered gently, but I still hesitated, for once not needing to pretend. A part of me did not want to approach the empress, but with Isadora gently pushing me forward, I didn’t have much of a choice. I took a deep breath as I stepped forward, keeping my head slightly lowered. The silence in the throne room was suffocating. Every noble, every servant, every guard—everyone was watching, waiting for what would happen next. The Empress had not moved, but she was still standing, waiting for me to approach her.

  As soon as I stood at the bottom of the dais, the Empress walked closer to me but I kept my eyes on the floor. I didn’t want to meet her gaze again if I could help it, and I merely stared at the hem of her dress as she stood in front of me.

  “Everyone leave.” she commanded, and I heard the confused and excited whispers as the guards herded the nobility out of the room. They hesitated, reluctant to miss whatever was about to happen, but none dared defy the Empress’s order. The massive doors groaned as they swung shut behind them, the sound of their closing echoing through the now-empty throne room. The space suddenly felt far too vast, the weight of the Empress’s stare pressing down on me like a physical force.

  I kept my eyes down, focusing on the marble floor beneath me. I could feel the Empress standing just a few feet away, but I didn’t move, didn’t breathe too deeply. I had no idea what to expect and that terrified me more than anything.

  “Look at me, child,” she said, her voice softer this time, but still carrying the weight of command. I hesitated, but I forced myself to obey, tilting my chin up just enough to meet her gaze. My heart pounded against my ribs as I studied her face—still pale, still filled with that strange, unreadable emotion. Her dark eyes flickered over my features, searching, as if she expected to find something familiar in my face.

  Her hands trembled at her sides before she slowly lifted one toward me, her fingers hovering just inches from my cheek. I didn’t flinch, but I held perfectly still, my entire body tensed. If she touched me, I wasn’t sure what I would do.

  “It’s impossible,” she murmured, so quietly I barely caught the words through the ear muffs. “But you… you look just like–”

  “Mother.” Isadora’s voice was firm, cutting through the moment like a blade. She stepped forward, placing a careful hand on my shoulder, as if to alleviate my nervousness. “Please. You’re frightening him.”

  The Empress blinked, as if only just realizing what she was doing. Her fingers curled inward, retreating from where they had nearly touched my skin, and she took a small step back. She took a breath, straightening her posture as she composed herself.

  “Where… did you say you found him and his mother?”

  “Outside of Polec,” Caspian spoke up, and I felt his hand rest on my other shoulder. With both of them standing beside me, I felt more protected from the Empress, but I was still wary of her intense reaction. I had no idea what she had seen in me, what ghost or memory had flashed through her mind the moment our eyes met, but I knew it had shaken her to her core.

  “And I assume you understand the risks?”

  “This was his decision and his mother’s. In order to keep my promise, I am willing to accept responsibility for whatever he becomes,” Isadora agreed, her voice resolute as she met her mother’s gaze without wavering. There was no hesitation in her words, no doubt in her tone. The Empress inhaled slowly, her expression unreadable as she turned back to me. Her dark eyes flickered over my face once more, and though she no longer looked as if she had seen a ghost, there was still something searching, something hesitant in her gaze.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “You are a quiet child,” she finally said, her voice measured. “Not at all what I expected from someone my daughter would claim as her own.”

  I swallowed, unsure how to respond to that. I wasn’t pretending to be quiet; I felt completely overwhelmed standing in front of the Empress. Her strong reaction to seeing my face had left me feeling like a child in every sense of the word. I took a breath, trying to find my voice.

  “I… just want my ma to be safe.” I said softly, keeping my head down. “Princess Isa said this would keep us safe and keep people safe from me.”

  The Emperor finally spoke. “That it will. But we also expect you to act as a prince should as long as you hold that title.”

  “I will,” I promised, finally looking back up as I met the Emperor’s eyes. He lacked the intensity of his wife’s stare, but there was still something calculating in the way he observed me. His expression remained unreadable, but his dark eyes studied me with quiet scrutiny, weighing my words, my posture—everything.

  After another moment he nodded, motioning to the guards still in the room. “Let them back in.

  “We have a prince to introduce to the nobility.”

  ***

  Lavina Trokha thought she might faint as she watched her daughter and son-in-law finally walk the young boy out of the throne room. She hadn’t expected to react so strongly to seeing him, but she also hadn’t expected the boy to look so eerily familiar.

  Even now, as the heavy doors of the throne room closed behind them, her hands trembled against the fabric of her dress. She curled her fingers inward, willing herself to breathe, to steady the storm inside her chest. Her heart was racing, pounding against her ribs like a beast trying to escape its cage. Standing before that child—Cyran—had nearly shattered her composure.

  Because she had seen those eyes before.

  Lavina lifted a hand to her temple, pressing her fingers against the pulse she could feel thrumming there. No. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. The resemblance was close, yes—too close—but it wasn’t exact. There were differences. The way his mouth set when he spoke, the way his hair curled slightly at the ends. Small details, details that mattered. And yet, when she had looked at him, her mind had whispered a name she had buried long ago.

  “You knew,” Lavina finally said, her voice quiet but sharp as she spoke softly to her husband. She didn’t turn to look at him, but she knew the neutral expression he was keeping as the nobility gossiped among themselves. They all knew talk of the new prince would be forbidden as soon as they left the room, so they were all eager to guess and prostate before she and Hewe dismissed them.

  “I suspected.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

  “We don’t know for certain. Even if it was Kapral his mother ate, he… shouldn’t be a Draconid. There is no precedent for such a thing happening,” Hewe continued, but Lavina could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Her husband was never one to act on conjecture, to make decisions without solid evidence, but she could hear the same doubt creeping into his voice that had taken root in her own thoughts. There was no precedent for such a thing, no record of a Draconid being born outside of copulation. And the boy was clearly born after Kapral’s death, after…

  Lavina pressed her fingers against her temple, forcing herself to steady her breathing. Her composure had already cracked once today, and she would not let it happen again. Whatever she had seen in that boy—whether it was truth or just a cruel trick of her own mind—she needed to handle it carefully.

  “Perhaps we should see if she’ll come examine him. If anyone could tell, she would be able to,” Lavina offered, her voice low enough that only Hewe could hear. The Emperor’s expression didn’t change, but she saw the way his fingers stilled against the armrest of his throne, the slight shift in his posture that meant he was considering her words.

  “You think she would?” he asked after a moment, his voice just as quiet.

  Lavina let out a slow breath, smoothing her hands over the folds of her gown. “She may be uninterested in our lives, but she was never one to turn away a mystery. If she suspects that there was truth to this, she won’t be able to stay away.”

  Hewe exhaled through his nose, glancing toward the massive doors where their daughter had led the boy away. “I’ll send a message then and we’ll see what she does.”

  Lavina didn’t respond, but her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her dress. She had already known what her husband’s answer would be, but hearing it confirmed only made the tightness in her chest grow heavier. She had spent years trying to forget, trying to bury the past beneath layers of duty and pragmatism, but now—standing in the throne room, with that boy’s face burned into her mind—those old ghosts clawed their way back to the surface.

  ***