Elaria’s gaze didn’t shift. That quiet, heavy judgment stayed fixed on Vera, and the heat under it made the back of Vera’s neck prickle. Her skin felt too warm and too cold at the same time, like she’d stepped into two different climates at once.

  A stupid, out-of-nowhere memory surfaced of her being caught by her mom sneaking out as a teenager. That had felt eerily similar.

  Except her mom didn’t ride a freaking dragon.

  Caldrin cleared his throat.

  “If I may interject briefly, Lady Elaria,” he said, “unless your tolerance for… public exhibitionism is greater than I assumed, are you certain you wish to continue this discussion in the current setting?”

  The moment’s tension stuttered.

  The corner of Elaria’s eye twitched. She glanced at him, then her gaze swept past them and down the street.

  Vera followed the look. A pair of women leaned over a balcony, whispering behind their hands. Farther down, several older men stood halfway behind a stable door, pretending they weren’t staring. Up by the tavern, a boy hung out a window with wide eyes glued to both Elaria and the dragon.

  He realized Vera noticed him. He yelped and vanished so fast something clattered inside.

  Elaria turned back. “…We’re going to Sablewatch Hollow.”

  Vera stared.

  It… couldn’t be, right? There was no way the woman hadn’t registered the scene she’d just caused when she came crashing down on a dragon in the middle of Marrowfen’s streets like some walking event marker.

  Elaria’s brow creased slightly when Vera didn’t answer. Realizing she’d been staring too long, Vera coughed lightly. “Right. So. Sablewatch Hollow, then?”

  Her gaze drifted to the dragon, crouched between the narrow buildings with its wings folded tight. Golden slit eyes watched her intently, unblinking.

  God, she really wanted one now. How the hell did Elaria manage to get her hands on a dragon as a mount?

  She shook her head and forced herself to focus. “That fellow might be a bit too big for me to bring along, though.”

  Maybe. She wasn’t entirely sure. She’d never tried opening a Hollow Reach large enough for anything bigger than a person before.

  Elaria glanced back, then looked at Vera again. “I will return on my own. Go ahead. We will meet you there.”

  Vera frowned slightly. Something about that phrasing bothered her. “…Alright. But we should probably wait for Serel first.”

  Elaria nodded once and said nothing more. Vera was left holding the silence, pretending to look around the street while staying uncomfortably aware of the gawking spectators, the dragon’s presence, and Elaria’s eyes on her.

  A minute or two later, the tavern door opened. Gloria, Hilde, and Serel stepped out, the latter running straight to her, clutching her satchel.

  “Mommy! Mama!” she said, bouncing as she stopped beside Vera and handed the satchel off to Caldrin—who wordlessly offered his hands and opened the flap—as she started rummaging through it. “I wanna show the drawing I made with Gloria! And we sang to the Wick! And—”

  Vera’s expression softened as she rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “You can show us later. We should head home first.”

  Serel deflated for half a second, but then her eyes slid to Elaria and the dragon behind her, and whatever disappointment she’d had evaporated instantly. “Mmm, okay!”

  Vera turned to Hilde and Gloria. “Thanks for watching her today. And sorry for the… commotion.”

  “Not complainin’,” Hilde said with a low laugh, her single eye drifting back to the dragon. “Plenty of excitement for one day.”

  She set a hand on her own daughter’s head, brushing a thumb through her hair.

  Gloria looked between all of them, still dazed, but she managed a small smile. “I don’t mind. Serel’s welcome anytime.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Vera said. “We’ll be back soon.”

  She glanced once at the faces watching them from windows and doorways, then let out a slow breath. There probably wasn’t much point trying to blend in anymore.

  She let her hair shift back to its natural color as Stillwake formed in her grasp and Resonance surged through her veins. She sliced open a rift beside them.

  Mark of Hollow Reach.

  “We’ll meet you in Sablewatch Hollow,” she told Elaria.

  The woman gave a brief nod and turned.

  Serel blinked between them. “Mama’s not coming with us?”

  Elaria stilled.

  “No, she’ll be flying back,” Vera said, though she instantly realized her mistake.

  Serel’s eyes widened. “On the dragon?”

  “…Yes.”

  The girl spun to Elaria, her voice rising with a level of excitement Vera wasn’t sure she’d ever seen from her before. “Mama, can I fly with you?”

  Elaria turned slowly, gaze settling on Serel. Her eyes flicked once to Vera, as if expecting her to step in.

  Vera had no idea how she could. Elaria had arrived on a dragon. There was no universe where it wouldn’t have Serel bursting with passion. And Vera didn’t have the courage to crush that kind of wonder.

  Did it feel like she was somehow losing just a little?

  Yes. Because a dragon was cheating.

  But if Elaria wanted to refuse, she’d have to do it herself.

  Elaria’s face didn’t move much, but Vera still felt like she’d just sold her out.

  Several seconds passed before Elaria finally nodded. “…If you wish.”

  Serel let out a sound somewhere between a squeal and a war cry as she bolted toward the dragon, grabbing Elaria’s hand. “Bye, Gloria! Bye, Hilde! Bye, Mommy and Caldrin!”

  Vera managed an awkward wave as the pair crossed the bridge. The dragon lifted its head, watching their approach, eyes narrowing with slow curiosity.

  It dawned on her that she wasn’t actually entirely comfortable letting Serel fly off with someone who, from her perspective, was practically a stranger. But somewhere below that unease, she trusted that Elaria wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  And if the last week or so had taught her anything, it was that very little hit her harder than seeing Serel smile like that.

  When they reached the dragon, it lowered its head to inspect Serel, nostrils flaring smoke as they stopped just short of her. Serel laughed as it puffed past her, and part of Vera’s tension eased when she noticed Elaria’s hand at the girl’s back, steadying her against the small gust.

  Vera watched as Serel introduced herself to the dragon, gently stroking its nose. The dragon seemed patient with her. Then Elaria lifted Serel with one arm, climbed up as the dragon crouched low, and settled the girl firmly in front of her. Serel waved wildly at Vera.

  “Mommy! I’m going to fly!”

  “Yeah,” Vera called out. “I can see that.”

  She met Elaria’s gaze one last time. The woman sat straight behind Serel, one arm braced around the girl.

  Then the dragon moved. Its wings snapped open, the air cracking with a heavy rush that rippled across the rooftops. Wind slammed into Vera, whipping her hair sideways. She kept her eyes on them—Elaria steady behind the girl, Serel leaning forward in pure wonder—as the dragon pushed off and surged upward, climbing through a column of swirling dust.

  Gasps and muttered awe drifted from windows and doorways throughout the street.

  The dragon banked high, gliding into a broad circle around the city, and she imagined herself still picking out Serel’s excited sounds across the distance. After another pass, it veered west, dropping into a long, low glide that gradually lifted in altitude.

  Vera let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  Beside her, Caldrin straightened.

  She turned to him. “On a scale from one to ten, how screwed do you think I am?”

  He lifted a brow. “In what sense?”

  She scowled. “Don’t make me repeat what I did to Vanded. I won’t hold back just because you’re two Bindings lower.”

  “Apologies.” He bowed his head slightly, hands folding behind his back. “However… I’m afraid I don’t quite know the answer. From my own memories, Lady Elaria has only rarely visited Sablewatch Hollow, and my interactions with her were limited. You likely have far more familiarity with her than I.”

  “Great,” Vera muttered. She dragged a hand through her hair, shot a glance toward Hilde and Gloria, then stepped toward the Hollow Reach she’d created. “I think it’s best if I go ahead alone for now. Do you think you could stay back for a bit and make sure the city doesn’t lose its mind over the dragon that just buzzed past? Find Gard and tell him what happened or something. And I guess you can also leave word for Vanded.”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  “Thanks. Hopefully when you get back, Sablewatch Hollow will still be standing.”

  “I doubt Lady Elaria intends to fight you.”

  “No. Maybe not, but she’s clearly miffed about something.” I’m bracing for the worst anyway.”

  Vera stepped through the Hollow Reach and arrived in the courtyard of Sablewatch Hollow.

  The rift closed behind her. Stillwake vanished back into her Vaultring. She squinted toward the direction of Marrowfen, but the mountains circling the vale made it impossible to see anything yet.

  She had no idea how long a dragon flight took. It was a somewhat long ride on wolfback, but that was through forest and wetlands. If she were to guess, it could take anything from ten minutes to an hour by air. The dragon had come in fast when approaching Marrowfen, but she’d noticed they left at a slower pace, so maybe they were being mindful because of Serel.

  Either way, Vera didn’t have much to do while waiting.

  Her eyes drifted across the statues and ashen trees scattered through the courtyard, then toward the estate itself—an estate she’d designed entirely for her own taste back in the game.

  Her thoughts jumped to all the things she’d filled it with just because she could. Monuments. Pointless displays. Gothic frippery and over-the-top tributes to her achievements.

  Suddenly, she felt extremely self-conscious.

  It wouldn’t come off as weird… right?

  —————————————————————

  Elaria’s body was indescribably tense.

  The tiny, constantly laughing girl in her arms kept squirming and bouncing at every rise and drop of the flight. Much of her shrill bursts of glee vanished into the wind, but there wasn’t a trace of the fear or self-preservation one would expect from a child this young. No hesitation. No instinctive concern for her own safety.

  That kind of recklessness had to be Mournvale’s doing.

  Another concern to add to the long list the woman had already saddled her with.

  Serel threw both arms into the air as Vorthalor beat his wings and dropped low over the treetops.

  Elaria immediately reached up to lower her arms back down, frowning hard.

  What did Mournvale teach this child?

  And what was Vorthalor doing? He never acted like this.

  She pressed a hand against the base of his neck, letting a pulse of her Resonance spread a controlled heat across his scales. Vorthalor’s head canted back just enough to acknowledge her before leveling out again.

  Time passed through their flight until they neared the mountains that rose to the west.

  “Mama, look!” Serel shouted as they ascended past the last ridge. The girl pointed ahead, where the sunlight spilled over Duskfall Vale, mist catching the trees, the silver ribbon of the lake glinting below.

  Elaria didn’t pay it much mind. Her focus was on keeping the girl steady.

  Vorthalor reached the height of their climb and released a long, resonant roar that rolled across the mountains. It sent birds scattering in every direction, and somewhere far below, a herd of duskstags broke into a startled run.

  Serel… squeaked.

  Elaria didn’t know what to make of these sounds.

  Vorthalor tilted his wings and dove. The wind howled, tearing at them, but the girl’s laughter only grew louder. A faint haze shimmered around her, originating from the Second-Seal Mark Elaria had invoked to protect her from the worst of the flight.

  Vorthalor skimmed low over the treetops again, the wake of his passage bending the canopy, then he leveled out above the lake that wound through the valley. Sablewatch Hollow came into view ahead, the dark silhouette of the estate framed against the mountainside.

  As water gave way to land and they neared the wrought iron gates of the estate, Elaria felt Vorthalor’s muscles tense beneath the scales.

  He wouldn’t—

  She tightened her grip on Serel and locked her legs around his neck just as Vorthalor pitched upward. The girl screamed in excitement and surprise while Elaria clenched her jaw as he spun into a full, sharp roll and then dropped, landing with a heavy, earth-shaking impact on the grass below.

  “Mama, can we do that again?” Serel gasped, turning to her with a bright grin.

  Elaria stared at the child, then at Vorthalor, who stared right back. “…Later.”

  She would be speaking to him about this.

  She looked back down at Serel—who was watching her quietly now, expression curious but unreadable. “Mmm, okay,” the girl said finally, wriggling her way out of Elaria’s hold to climb down.

  Elaria helped her. Once Serel’s feet were on the grass, the girl thanked Vorthalor for the flight. Elaria watched silently, gauging the dragon’s calm around the girl.

  After several moments, however, it became clear Serel had no intention of moving on. She lingered, petting Vorthalor’s scales and walking around him in small circles.

  “Serel,” Elaria began, stopping herself before saying Mournvale. “…Your mother is waiting.”

  Serel blinked up at her, then turned to glance toward the looming estate.

  “Bye, Vorthie!” She waved one final time at the dragon, and he dipped his head in farewell. Then she grabbed Elaria’s hand and began tugging her toward the gates. Elaria cast one last look at the dragon—mildly impressed that a creature as proud as he was tolerated such a nickname—but her attention returned to the small hand gripping her own.

  It was tiny. A single squeeze could break it.

  But Serel wasn’t a normal child.

  There was a reservoir of Resonance inside her that didn’t match her age at all.

  The gates opened as they approached, and Serel’s steps grew more animated as she led Elaria across the courtyard.

  Elaria chose not to look at the statues. Or the displays. Or any of the other glaringly self-indulgent choices Mournvale had made.

  Inside the main gallery, Serel slowed, eyes moving across the room in a way that suggested she was thinking hard about something. Then she turned to Elaria with an oddly earnest expression.

  “We have to find Mommy.”

  Elaria looked at her, gaze lingering on the streaks of crimson-silver in her eyes. “…Yes.”

  “Come!” Serel tugged her hand again, and Elaria allowed herself to be pulled as the girl led them through the estate. Their first stop took them into the garden, through it, and toward the absurdly fashioned wing Mournvale had added at the back.

  Once inside, Elaria caught a warm, buttery smell.

  Serel lit up. “Pancakes!”

  …Pancakes?

  The girl released her hand and tore down the hall, her footsteps a messy patter that echoed.

  Elaria stood there for a beat, then followed more slowly. The hall led into the dining chamber, where Serel had already climbed into a chair with an empty plate waiting in front of her, legs kicking beneath it.

  Elaria paused in the doorway, observing the sight. Eventually, her gaze slid to the open archway at the back, where the smell was strongest.

  She walked over.

  In the adjoining kitchen, she found Mournvale standing before a low masonry hearth outfitted with sigilplates and several flat griddles set over them. Lines of batter sizzled on the surfaces, and a large bowl rested on the counter beside her.

  The woman turned. A simple apron covered her front, dusted with batter. She held an iron turner in one hand.

  “Right, hi, sorry,” she said with a small, awkward laugh. “Wasn’t sure how long you’d take, and I remembered Serel wouldn’t have eaten yet, so I thought I’d whip something together. Been trying to remember how to make proper pancakes the last few days. Serel seems to like them.”

  Elaria stared.

  The woman’s smile tightened.

  Elaria’s gaze flicked to the batter cooking behind her.

  “…Do you, um… want some as well?” Mournvale asked.

  Elaria didn’t answer right away. She glanced once toward the kitchen doorway, where Serel sat humming softly to herself in the next room. Then she stepped forward.

  Each footfall landed with deliberate weight on the stone floor until she stopped barely a pace from Mournvale. The woman instinctively leaned back, spatula lowering, her gaze caught.

  “Vera,” Elaria said, her voice quiet but edged. “What is that girl?”