Morning light filtered through the tall windows of the Imperial Strategy Chamber, casting long shadows across the massive map table inlaid with enchanted crystal veins. Miniature figures representing caravans, patrols, and known trade routes glowed softly. Ash sat at the head of the table, his injured leg propped on a low stool, trying to focus on the discussion instead of the tall dragon standing directly across from him.
Ignis looked as imposing as ever in formal black-and-silver attire, arms crossed, golden eyes scanning the map with predatory focus.
Seraphina sat to Ash's right, quiet but attentive, while Emperor Frederick and Empress Aurora occupied the other end.
"The attacks are too precise," Ignis stated, voice low and commanding. "Dragon-glass from our mines. Silks commissioned specifically for the Draconic Palace. Medicinal herbs sourced from our shared suppliers. This is not mere banditry."
One of the generals nodded. "The attackers leave no traces. No banners, no survivors who saw faces, no magical residue we can track. They strike and vanish like smoke."
Ash rubbed his temple. "They want to sow distrust. Make both sides question if the other is protecting the routes properly." He glanced at Ignis. "Or worse—make it look like one side is sabotaging the other."
Seraphina spoke softly. "Father, could it be one of the old conservative factions? The ones who opposed the alliance from the start?"
Ignis's tail flicked once. "Possible. But the style feels… personal. Entertaining for someone." His golden eyes met Ash's for a brief, heavy second. "We will increase joint patrols. Dragon wings in the air, human forces on the ground. I will send a detachment of my Shadowscale Guard to assist."
Emperor Frederick inclined his head. "Agreed. Asher will coordinate from the palace while he recovers."
Ash opened his mouth to protest, but Ignis cut him off with a sharp look.
"You will coordinate from the palace," the Dragon Lord repeated, tone leaving no room for argument. "Rest the leg, Prince Asher."
Seraphina hid a small smile behind her hand.
" Don't worry, I'll be there with you to scold you if you cause anymore ruckus. "
****
The strategy meeting broke apart slowly, generals and advisors filtering out in clusters, leaving the chamber smelling of warm parchment and extinguished candles.
Emperor Frederick paused at the door to exchange quiet words with Ignis—something about joint naval access along the river delta—while Empress Aurora lingered near the window, watching Ash with that particular expression he'd learned to dread since childhood.
"Walk with me, Asher."
It was not a request.
Seraphina, bless her, took one look at the Empress's face and suddenly discovered an urgent need to speak with the cartographer about updated trade route markings. She disappeared with admirable speed, Spark gliding silently after her.
Ash pushed himself upright on the crutch and followed his mother out through the side corridor, which curved along the inside of the palace's eastern wing and offered a view of the floating gardens below. Morning light turned the suspended terraces into something from a painting.
They walked in silence for a while. His mother had always been a patient woman.
"Your ankle is improving," she said finally.
"The healers are optimistic."
"Good." She folded her hands loosely before her. "I would hate for you to be limited in your movements when you have so many complicated paths to navigate."
Ash said nothing.
Aurora turned to look at him—those sharp green eyes he'd inherited finding exactly what she was searching for with the precision of someone who had watched him his entire life.
"He flew here himself," she said. "Not on a aerial wagon. Not with a proper announcement like a normal monarch does. He flew here, by himself, On his true form, Asher. Do you understand how unusual that is?"
"He mentioned wanting to inspect if his daughter was doing well here."
"He mentioned." His mother's mouth curved with something that was not quite a smile. "The Dragon Lord of Night, who has not left his palace voluntarily in three years, flew across the continent to inspect on his daughter which he can easily do with reports and ensure someone's ankle sprain was healing properly." She paused. "He cross the continent to inspect in his daughter only, is what you're asking me to believe."
Ash stared out at the gardens. A cluster of white flowers he didn't know the name of swayed in the morning breeze below.
"Mother—"
"I'm not angry," she said quietly. "I am not even particularly surprised, if I'm being truthful with myself. You have always looked at things—at people—with the intensity that makes the rest of us feel slightly transparent." She paused. "I am, however, worried."
"Nothing has happened."
"That," Aurora said, "is not reassurance. That is a statement of current facts, which can change." She stopped walking and turned to face him fully. "Seraphina is a wonderful girl. Brave, warm, genuinely fond of you. Her father clearly—" she chose her next word with the care of someone selecting a blade— "values you. You went with the goal to strengthen the alliance. And your plan included Seraphina not her father."
Ash's jaw tightened. "The alliance is important. I know what I need to do."
"Do you?" His mother's voice was gentle but unsparing. "Because the boy who wrote me six weeks ago about cultural diplomacy and trade negotiations is not the same one who personally bullied the palace chefs about venison spices for a guest's arrival."
The silence stretched long enough to be uncomfortable.
"I don't know what I'm doing," Ash admitted at last, very quietly.
Aurora was silent for a moment. Then she reached over and rested one hand on his arm—light, steady, the way she'd done since he was small and had come to her with problems too large for his young chest.
"Then figure it out," she said. "Before someone gets hurt who doesn't deserve it." Her eyes softened even as the words landed firm. "And before you convince yourself that keeping everyone else comfortable is the same thing as being honest."
She pressed a brief kiss to his temple, the way she hadn't since he was perhaps seven years old, and then continued walking ahead, her pearls catching the light.
Ash stood in the corridor alone, crutch beneath his arm, staring out at the floating gardens, feeling twenty different kinds of fool.
Ash remained in the corridor long after his mother's footsteps faded, the crutch digging into his palm as he stared down at the floating gardens. White blossoms swayed mockingly in the breeze, beautiful and untethered.
Figure it out.
Easy for her to say. She hadn't transmigrated into a trashy novel where one's very enemy turned out to be the most devastatingly attractive creature in existence. She hadn't felt a seven-foot dragon come apart under her hands while incense thickened the air. She hadn't watched golden eyes track her across every room like a predator deciding whether to devour or claim.
He exhaled sharply and turned toward the Obsidian Suite.