𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙉 :
𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝗜 𝗛𝗮𝘃𝗲

<𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤 𝙀𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙑𝙖𝙡𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣. 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙜𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜>

               𝑨 𝑹𝑶𝑶𝑴 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑩𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑰𝑵𝑵 instead of returning to the Red Keep. Prince Viseron decided it was best not to panic the court by showing up drenched in blood — adding to more gossip and unheard-of scandals to Sylvia's name — given the situation was under control. They agreed with the story of Sylvia being too tired to travel back and chose a closer option to rest her head for the night.

Meya nearly fainted when escorted to the room two new palace knights guarded. She mourned the dress that was supposedly one of her favorites but quickly got to work, shedding Sylvia down to her naked flesh. There was blood stained in places she didn't expect. When asking about Lady Mercia, Meya assured she traveled back safely though she wanted to stay and ensure Sylvia's safety.

She was glad she didn't. She didn't want her to see her like this.

The tub had to be refilled numerous times. Without extra help — now that Sylvia finally allowed it, but only two more hired maids — left Meya to fend for herself. Nevertheless gather the proper ingredients and oils accustomed for a lady of court. She never settled for less and took her position quite seriously.

Her pruney fingers dug into Sylvia's dirty scalp, scrubbing her curls clean of blood matted in her white hair. But once the water turned deep red would she be forced to sit aside with a blanket draped over her bare shoulders, shivering her bones thin while Meya refilled the tub, complaining it would have been better with more help. Help Sylvia allowed but refused to call upon.

Sylvia refused to get out the third time it was asked of her and accepted whatever color and temperature the water was — creamy red with torn petals scattered, most of everything scrubbed clean of blood. So she soaked in the water with her head resting back, both arms along the edge. She closed her eyes as exhaustion took control.

A cool knuckle trailing the side of Sylvia's face made her aware of someone's presence. It followed her hairline down toward her chin, but it started with her arm. A chilling touch so faint she was sure it was a breeze.

She shifted her head with a weak groan, far too tired to open her eyes. "Please don't make me get out, Meya. A few more minutes. . ." Sylvia mumbled as she dozed off.

Moments later, the hand returned. It was now the back of their hand continuing where it left off, brushing down her extended neck and along her shoulder blade. Her scales were their main focus. So gentle, so light and prolonging, almost intimate. Nothing like Meya's touch that was straight to the point. She never idled.

White hair dangled in Sylvia's face when her eyes fluttered open. It took a moment for her vision to readjust but knew quickly that it wasn't her attendant. Her eyes bulged wide, grabbing the intruder's hand and yanking it off with a gasp. Blood pumped twice as hard, her heart beating through her chest.

She jerked forward but remained in the cool water. "What are you doing, my prince?" Her panic rushed out words that easily came out as one word.

Prince Viseron easily slipped his hand from her wet fingers and wiped them along his black trousers. "No need for that; I can't see anything." He commented upon Sylvia tightening her arms around her knees clutched to her chest. "The water's red."

And he was right. The last batch of water now a fleshy pink color, though any kind of movement would expose her. She was still determined to hide herself from the lurking prince and his sticky fingers who held not one ounce of guilt or shock upon getting caught, almost like he had done this before.

"That's not the point. Why are you here? Where's Meya?"

"Next door upon my command." He knelt beside the tub so he was eye-leveled with Sylvia. Once again, his gaze was unreadable but there was a soft touch when lowering his chin. "You didn't let me in so I let myself in."

"I was bathing. . .asleep."

"Yes, I know. I've been here for quite some time. Peaceful as you are beautiful when you sleep, I couldn't help but disturb you."

Sylvia didn't know how to respond. It wasn't surprising that he was watching her sleep—neither was she comfortable with it—but rather bothered she slept through someone trespassing without any awareness. As light of a sleeper she was, it was shocking. She wondered what more she had slept through, but her feeble mind focused on the fact that he had yet again complimented her. Outwardly this time.

Excitement failed to force itself down as her heart pounded and her face grew warm. I must stick by my promise, Sylvia reminded herself, and chase after no man who wouldn't do the same for me, especially a prince promised to another. There were powerful men activity planning to rid her should she feed into his attention.

"You have no sense of respecting my boundaries, Prince Viseron." Sylvia stated with a bite, easily deflecting confused emotions. "Did you forget? I'm a lady now. And as one, you can't send away my attendant and come and go as you please simply because you can. Don't ruin my chance of a perfect match, adding to more rumors I don't need."

He scoffed and Sylvia couldn't find where he was humored. "I'm well aware of who you are, Sylvia, and I do respect your boundaries. . .But I like crossing them too."

"Why?"

"Because it excites me."

He was being honest. Far too honest that some things should have been kept to himself.

"So what?" Sylvia gathered her wet curls over her shoulder, inches longer because shrinkage was a myth when touched by water. There were thankfully no specs of blood due to Meya's harsh washing. "You invade my peaceful resting because you're bored? Because you can't sleep? This couldn't have waited until morning, my prince?"

"No." He simply said which answered nothing at the same time.

Sylvia scooted further over when Prince Viseron pulled closer. There was barely any room to fill the narrow structure and was forced to welcome his invasion. His long silver hair was brushed thoroughly and hung free of ties and pins, shaping his handsome features.

He rested his arms along the tub, his face horizontally flat against his arms as if he were resting. His finger dipped the cool water, swirling the fleshy color. "Address me accordingly, Sylvia." Prince Viseron noticeably frowned, almost offended. "It upsets me when you forget."

Whatever his reasons were for bothering Sylvia, she didn't wish to remain in the tub for any longer than she had been. The water was no longer pleasant and there was no telling what was on Prince Viseron's mind. But whatever it was it's clear he had no plans of leaving.

Sylvia sighed. "I'd like to get out and change, Viseron. Will you leave as you should or turn around?"

He stood with a smirk and retreated further into the room with his back faced her. When there was enough distance and Sylvia was sure he would remain still, she got out of the cool water and quickly dried herself down. She had no patience thoroughly drying her hair which took quite a while and grabbed the white gown off the chair, squeezing both her head and arms through. Water trailed back and forth as she completed her nightly routine. Usually with Meya's help and because Meya created it; moisturizing her body with raw cream scented with lavender, ringing out any leftover water dripping from her curls and quickly combing out tangles from the bottom — all while keeping watch on Prince Viseron, who yet snuck a peek.

The side of her nose as well as her cheek bruised dark purple. Most of her hair was clean of blood, its color brighter than the moon. But as she was combing through the knots and tangles with her fingers, her knuckles brushed along her jaw in a slow rhythmic manner. It was then she realized she was imitating Prince Viseron's invading touch. She snapped out of it and quickly gathered herself.

"How did you know where to find me?" Sylvia broke the awkward silence with a question that fed on her thoughts now and then. "Were you following me? No — have you been there since I left the Keep?"

The latter made the most sense. It was a wild accusation, that she knew, but it wasn't that far off from his character. He proved it so.

"I am a prince, Sylvia, not a lapdog or common folk. My time isn't spent following treats and enjoying the light salty breeze of the ocean, nor do I have the luxury." A chuckle warmed his throat, playing with a marble in his hands. "Has your nap conjured such fantasies into reality?"

"No, of course not." She answered immediately. "It was only a question. Forgive me for not believing the man who watches me sleep."

Prince Viseron looked back when it was safe for him to look and his eyes travelled where it pleased. There were wet areas the material clung to and her damp curls made it no better. "I went to meet an old friend and didn't wish to draw any attention." He ignored the previous statement about him. "Then I saw you near the shipyard on my way back. One moment you were there and then you weren't."

He trailed near the small round table displayed with mouth-watering foods that brought out an animalistic hunger. A soup of some kind, still warm by its steam. Cheese melted in buttered bread, fruits and walnuts and shaped cheese, and more which Meya couldn't have ordered if she wasn't here to dictate when Sylvia would awaken.

The prince poured water in a cup and offered it to Sylvia after pouring himself wine. "You're welcome by the way for saving your life. I would think you'd want something stronger to celebrate another night's breathing, but your attendant informed me you don't favor wine." He questioned that reason without actually asking.

"I don't favor what it does to me after barely two cups. That's no woman one wants to see." Sylvia admitted and Prince Viseron gave an understanding nod.

"Ah, lightweight."

She took the cup with a scoff at his previous assumption to thank him for the bare minimum, and down the drink in one sip. A perfect temperature after a long bath. "Thank you for the water." She didn't hide the sarcasm on her tongue.

"That is all you're thankful for?"

"The credit is none other than mine. The fun was over long after you came."

He poured himself another cup. "Yes, well, you are quite the fighter.  You neglected to tell me that part when speaking of yourself the last we were together."

"I'm not. I pull shit out my ass when in desperate situations." She admitted while replenishing herself with the warm creamy soup. Yet again, the prince watched her with such content. "I can fight with weapons and possibly win against one. But without it, I'm useless."

Prince Viseron stood closer, his heat radiating as reached for a grape to throw in his mouth. "Show me your stance," he demanded out of nowhere. "Show me how you throw a punch."

"What — right now?"

He nodded.

"But. . ." Sylvia lifted her unfinished bowl she would very much like to finish. "I'm hungry." She did attempt to stand from her seat but her aching body kept her grounded. "And sore. Killing a person — two is not as easy as one makes it to be. It's exhausting."

A hand lowered the bowl from Sylvia's lip. "And you will have your creamy duck soap and whatever else you desire," he successfully took the bowl from her grasp and placed it back on the table. Her complaints were nothing more than background noise. "After you show me how you throw a punch." He backed away, motioning her forward.

Sylvia licked the cream along her top lip and pushed herself from the table with a groan, guiding herself to her feet. When displaying her stance taught by Yanis, she should have known Prince Viseron would nitpick everything. She certainly didn't expect him to kick at her feet to shift the position of her legs to his liking, to lift her arms and lower her elbows against her ribs. To tighten her fist and lower chin. It was good advice and technique he taught.

He circled Sylvia like prey, analyzing her molded position to mold more into perfection. This time she watched him and followed his stalking presence. He shifted her chin forward. She couldn't see what he was doing when he walked out of her viewpoint and behind her, only feeling his heated presence.

Then he grabbed a fist full of her damp hair and yanked Sylvia's body back against his chest. "What are you doing?" Sylvia struggled to pull herself free from his grip.

"You are no longer able to throw a punch — you're incapacitated." His warm breath tingled against her face as it traveled along her neck, "how will save yourself now?"

At first, Sylvia yanked her hair from his grip. Not a smart idea for curls that easily wrapped themselves around his fingers as if they belonged. This was a much similar if not the same position the man had me in when he dragged me away, but Prince Viseron's grip was unmatched. His muscles flexed against his loose-fitting shirt, yet there was still some restraint because it didn't hurt as much. Just pressure. Strong pressure. He better be lucky she wasn't tender-headed.

Sylvia rethought her options of how she could break free without using a weapon or permanently damaging the prince, of which none were within reach. And the thoughts she did have she feared it would get her in trouble especially when left to defend herself against the prince. But because he was inviting violence, who was she to decline his request?

So she hooked an arm under his, grabbing Prince Viseron's hair and yanking him back. His strained laughter was unexpected, further encouraging Sylvia to hurt him at any cost of freedom. She then stomped her bare foot as hard as she could against his boots, butting her head back against his.

"Fuck — " Sylvia pushed him away when he released her. The prince stumbled back, gripping his foot and his red forehead with a hiss. It was hard to decipher his pain when his laughter grew louder.

But to be safe, "s-sorry. I thought. . .I thought you wanted me to hurt you."

"No, I did. I wanted it and worse, but didn't expect the power of your foot and head as slim as you are."

Sylvia was slim. But thanks to Yanis and years spent hunting to survive, she was fairly toned with muscles when she was flexing.

Neither she expected the impact but it made her laugh. It's a rare moment to hurt someone untouchable without repercussion. She almost wished he would attack again so she could deliver her worse.

"I take that as a compliment." Sylvia chuckled as she pushed back her curls. It was no use since it would flop back and left it in its natural state.

"I wouldn't say otherwise."

It seemed Prince Viseron wanted to play some more and Sylvia was interested in his lessons that proved him a competent teacher. He was firm with his teachings, gentle with how he handled Sylvia though his strength never faltered, and often spoke in High Valyrian. A language Sylvia failed to remember on top of her studies with Master Ollins and Meya and whoever else. He made it easy to understand him even if he had to repeat himself or quickly translate before switching back.

Once satisfied, Sylvia was released to consume her meal just as promised. She also didn't wish to get sweaty after a bath but her pulsing heart acknowledged her achievements. The constant moving helped with drying her hair, still damped in many areas. Prince Viseron occupied the empty seat across from her. He picked at a few more grapes and square cheese to eat and refilled his wine cup, watching her as always.

"Is there something about the way I eat bothers you?" Sylvia finally asked.

"Yes, but not in the way you think. It's like feeding a puppy; everything you give it helps it grow to remain strong and healthy. It creates a fuzzy feeling here," his hand pressed against his chest before it trailed below. "A rush that fills my belly with an empty feast, and I feel. . .satisfaction? And that's what bothers me because I care about this puppy, and I wish to feed it so their happiness burns bright and their hunger is never troubled. Would you call this normal?"

"To enjoy watching someone eat?"

"To enjoy watching you eat." He corrected and Sylvia lowered her nearly completed soup. The crease between his brows struggled to make sense of this feeling he experienced, as if it was something he actually struggled to express as blunt as he was.

She honestly didn't know what to make of this. He compared her to a puppy and openly admitted to taking enjoyment watching her eat all in one breath. It didn't settle well, and once again, felt herself growing hot. "I-I guess so." Sylvia cleared her throat. She sought to calm herself with her water, emptying it in one gulp. "You're so weird with your compliments. . .with your words in general." She quickly deflected.

His lips twitched slightly. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm not used to it either. This is new to me."

And that was what made it worse — his honesty. Sylvia could never find fault in his words because he spoke nothing but the truth, unlike Yanis who tipped around, which she didn't want to hear. She didn't need these suffocating feelings to smother her further when they both had a role to play.

        He is to be married for fuck sake! What is my problem?

        No, what is his? He knew his situation and Sylvia's. No doubt he was being nice because he wanted her naked and beneath him as any man when met with someone shiny and new.

Sylvia abruptly stood from the table and walked away to remove herself from his presence and get herself under control. The floor creaked beneath his feet as Prince Viseron followed behind. She walked further away without turning around, catching his figure through the mirror, watching her walk away.

"Sylvia — "

"You're a prince and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne with knowledge beyond the court, enough to keep the peace within the realm despite grudges houses may hold for one another." Sylvia decided to change the conversation before the prince added to the subject and complicate the matter more. It was also a reminder of how far his status was from a bastard with nothing to offer.

His brows furrowed with confusion. "Where is this going?"

"I need advice," her fingers combed nervously through her thick hair before playing with her necklace. "What would you do if someone is a threat to you but because of their importance, is unkillable."

"No one is unkillable."

She rolled her eyes at his snort. "You know what I mean — I can't touch them. Not if I wish myself a death sentence or however it works here. I need to find another way to protect myself from the threat without shedding blood."

"By what laws would protect Lord Benjamin shitface and the fucking piss-haired twat when they are conspiring against thee firstborn daughter of Daemon Targaryen? Your resilience is admirable, but it isn't a permanent solution that will quickly be your demise."

"What — I didn't tell you their names." Sylvia's eyes bulged out her sockets and spun so quickly that she suffered from a minor whiplash. "You were in the walls! You were there when. . ." when Lady Mercia shared her darkest secret as she did with her. She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. Even if he knew, she swore the words would never touch her living lips.

Since there was no use in hiding anything, Prince Viseron was forthcoming about this as if it was just another day for him. "I was."

Sylvia clamped her mouth with a gasp. It was all adding up. Everything was beginning to make sense.

"You've been stalking me, haven't you? Since then — that day and earlier, your presence has become my shadow! And don't you call me crazy. Don't excuse yourself now."

"I was there before you." Prince Viseron said.

"Just like you happen to see me at the dock ship? Just in time to save me, though you came late and I already had it handled." He said nothing and continued drinking his wine which infuriated Sylvia even more. So calm and collected and unbothered, like it wasn't worth a time in his day. No care as to how this bothered her very much.

So Sylvia marched over to him without a damn in the world of what the privy council would do, and snatched the cup from his lips, slamming it on the table. "How much you heard? What did you see?" She questioned.

The red trail heading down Prince Viseron's chin was licked clean. "Don't worry yourself, your darkest secrets will be kept until my flesh turns to ash."

The cup slid further from his fingertips when he reached for it. He could easily snatch it from Sylvia and overpower her in mere seconds, yet didn't bother to.

"I can't believe this," she's laughing hysterically now. Laughter filled with more worry than humor.

What was shared that day was no secret on Sylvia's end, yet felt embarrassed Prince Viseron knew there was someone else in her heart. Someone unworthy of her love but so desperately wanted to give him all of it and more at any given price. There was nothing shameful about love. About wanting more out of it and to finally be seen as a worthy partner, a woman, but this sudden discomfort didn't sit well in her stomach. Not even creamy duck soup could warm it away.

Sylvia was also worried about Lady Mercia's secret. It would break her heart and quite literally ruin her reputation if word of it got out, and she didn't wish to lose her companionship because of the prince's honest tongue.

A promise sealed with a kiss she wanted to feel again and again.

Prince Viseron seemed to have finally grasped the seriousness of the situation upon reading Sylvia's visible worry. "There's no need for dramatics. If you worry for Lady Mercia, you can have her. She is all yours to indulge in your fantasies if that is what pleases you. I don't want her." He stepped forward and from the corner of Sylvia's eyes, spotted his sneaky fingers trailing across the table for his drink. "My dragon sticks with its blood, and I have my eyes set on the bigger prize."

She took the cup within her grasp and held it to her chest with a scoff. "You're bold to think I would share her with you, or that I need your permission to pursue who I want."

"You don't need my permission. Is that not what I said before?"

"You're making it as if I need it in the first place."

"As long as I know who it is, I could care less who you pursue." Prince Viseron said with his eyes on his cup, still out of reach.

Sylvia threw out her hand. "See!"

"See what?"

"What you just said."

His brows furrowed. "You confuse me."

"And you infuriate me!"

She held her breath when Prince Viseron invaded her space further, suffocating her with his heat, his smell, him. It was a dangerous game to play by holding his piercing violet gaze, having nowhere else to look. He took the cup from her finger before it spilled on her gown and placed it aside.

"What about me is infuriating? I have been nothing but forthcoming with you since the moment we met."

"Yes. Exactly that." Sylvia swallowed thickly as she mumbled, "a-and more."

White hair fell over his side when he cocked his head, forcefully fitting himself into Sylvia's view whenever she looked away. "What more is there? Where am I failing? Where is it that has you confused about me?"

There wasn't a reason Sylvia could find. Not now at this exact moment. If there was one which she was sure was plenty, she couldn't focus with her heart beating out her chest. Her face nearly hot enough to boil eggs. Her lungs were restricted of oxygen from holding her breath not to breathe him in and be consumed whole. Her body was betraying her mind, yet her mind wanted the same as her body, yet her heart remained confused.

        Shame, she reminded herself.

Prince Viseron gripped Sylvia's chin and forced their gaze to meet. Their faces nearly inches apart. "Viseron," she breathed his name with ease. It was supposed to be a warning yet came out horsed and weak and unlike her.

"Have you been forthcoming with me, Sylvia?" He asked.

She ripped her chin from his cold touch and scattered back for air, bumping into the table. The cup of wine spilled and neither knelt to clean it. This time he didn't follow her. "Does it matter?"

"It does."

Sylvia remained silent. She knew then that it wasn't just him that was infuriating — it was her feelings. That it was Prince Viseron, someone she had known in such a short time, who brought out these heavy festering feelings Yanis hadn't even touched the surface to unveil. It wasn't as calm and easy as it was with Lady Mercia, but complicated and complex and confusing. Mixtures of disgust, anger, excitement, and lust all attacked her system at once because of him.

        Prince Viseron.

The prince betrothed to another. The line that kept her humbled. Somewhat sane. Easy to blame herself though the blame was all him because it was easier.

This was not a feeling explored before so it disgusted her in ways that also eager her to make rash decisions to maintain it. . .If not had he been promised to another and she, to a noble household as the King intended.

Sylvia tightened her hand around the necklace to calm herself from its painful pressure. Prince Viseron kept his distance, possibly sensing her overwhelmed being. He finally reunited with his cup — a different one — and finished the rest of what was left. The look in his eyes certainly enjoyed the reaction. She hated that too.

Her attention snapped in his direction when she heard him speak but didn't exactly pick up what was said. "What do you want?" The prince repeated.

The cup pressed against her bottom lip as she asked, "W-what do you mean?"

"What is it that you desire?"

It was an easy question that was now difficult to answer. It was also unclear why he would ask such a random question until she realized it was his second slot he chose to use. In which she had no choice but to answer honestly as part of their deal.

Sylvia came to this foreign world across the sea to reunite with her mother, and while that hadn't changed, she now wished to make this world her new home. To become a part of this house and learn beyond her lineage with the available opportunities. These feelings were more than she knew or cared to explain.

"I-I-I don't know yet," Sylvia responded with partial honesty. "I was never given much choice of my future, and was prepared to live my life within those walls that raised me. But now, I want more. I desire too much. A dragon, a husband, a family, my mother here with me — more and even more beyond that. I don't know where to start, but can't if I'm not safe where I should be. Not knowing when or where scares me, and I hate feeling scared."

Prince Viseron appeared deep in thought about something when looking up. "I see." He then placed down his cup and tilted his head in a bow. Turning on his heels, he made his way toward the door. "I should go."

"Back to the Red Keep?"

"Back to my paid room." Sylvia could hear the smirk in his voice. "Unless you want me to stay?"

"You can go." She said quickly.

His shoulders bobbled with his chuckle.

"As I thought. There are palace guards stationed outside your door and around this inn. Your handmaid shall return to her duties as before. Get some rest."

As Sylvia watched him go with much relief, her curiosity forced her to use up her second question. "You never told me your desires?"

A glint of white armor was caught behind the prince when opening the door to exit, before the gap shrunk as his steps halted. He finally looked back toward Sylvia and allowed the silence to keep her uneasy. Then his lips tugged upwards into his knowing half smile, growing bigger by the second. "Soon enough my desires will come to light. Ziry would sagon adhirikydho known lo ao weren't oblivious toward issa attempts, yn nyke ūndegon sir aōha mind iksos cluttered se aōha prūmia iksos stuck isse se past (It would be quickly known if you weren't oblivious toward my bold attempts, but I see now your mind is cluttered and your heart is stuck in the past). But I am fairly patient, or at least I can be. Syt ao (For you)."

Sylvia waited for a translation that never came. "I don't understand this language. You know this."

"So learn."

He left with that. It also occurred that he hadn't given her the advice she sought to deal with Lord Benjamin and Lord Ellin. Even If the law was on her side what proof of their conspiracy did she have? She needed to be smart about this. But even so. . .shouldn't killing them be easy? After all, there was power in both her name and blood. Two men were just two beating hearts, easily conquered with the perfect aim.

A U T H O R S  N O T E

⎯ Did I write this chapter to get them in the same room again? Yes. Is Sylvia oblivious? Yes. She has her reasons and honestly thinks it's his personality, being weird and horny. And obviously has no experience with this given she was a 'boy' her entire life and the man she knew never pursued her properly or at all. And is no home wrecker...for now. Jkjk —— all of which I hope to portray clearly.

⎯ But let me know what yall think! We're so close to some dragon scenes and I can't wait to show yall them. I know it's taking a minute and it's what we care about most—me included—but I'm in no rush since this book might be quite lengthy. Or medium-lengthy. I truly don't know. I'm outlining and going with the flow, letting the story write itself