Kaelith
Dragons do not share.
The thought is older than kingdoms. Older than treaties. Older than the fragile peace holding the realms together.
Mine.
That is how dragons survive. How we rule. How we love. How we destroy.
And yet I am standing inside a council chamber with three other kings connected to the same female through a bond ancient enough to shake the world itself.
The instinct to burn something alive is becoming difficult to ignore.
Lucien sits across from me like he belongs here — controlled, cold, too observant. Eryndor lounges beside him with the irritating ease of someone who finds this entire situation entertaining. Cassian stands near Aria without touching her — steady, grounded, dangerously calm.
And Aria…
Aria stands at the center of all of it like she was born
