The morning light filtered through the frost-laced windows, soft and pale, like the first breath of dawn brushing against the world. The fire in the fireplace had long since died, leaving behind only the ghost of warmth and the scent of charred wood. Cold air drifted lazily into the room, curling between the bedposts and creeping beneath the covers, carrying with it the mingled aroma of aged timber, smoke, and the faint linen musk of sleep.
Thin ice clung to the corners of the glass panes, beginning to thaw beneath the sunlight. As it melted, droplets streaked down like weeping trails, and the refracted light split into wavering bands of color that danced across the walls. Hints of lavender, gold, and rose shimmered over the stone and wooden surfaces, painting the room with a quiet, otherworldly glow, like a blessing from some distant, benevolent god.
I stirred, eyes blinking open with the sluggish protest of someone dragged from a deep sleep. A strand of hair clung to my cheek, stuck in place by a trail of dried drool. Charming. I reached up to peel it away, my mouth dry and my face warm with mild embarrassment, so much for the regal image. I was no fairy tale princess this morning—I probably looked like I'd wrestled a pillow and lost three times over.
Zaydon's absence was the first thing I noticed. The bed felt empty, cold in a way that wasn't just physical. I shifted under the covers, still half tangled in them, and turned my head toward the other bed across the room.
There he was.
I frowned. Unacceptable.
Why had he moved? He'd held me the entire night, and now… now the space beside me was just silence and chill. I'd actually liked the warmth, the weight of him, the security. I'd felt—gods help me—calm. Protected. Safe in a way I hadn't felt in years.
My gaze drifted toward him and lingered.
Zaydon lay on his side, facing me, one arm tucked under the pillow. The harsh lines of battle and burden had softened in sleep. His thick, dark lashes rested against skin that held the hue of warm bronze in the morning light. The arch of his brows, so often furrowed in frustration or determination, had relaxed. His hair was an utter disaster—tousled and wild, he looked like he'd stuck his head out the window of a fast-moving carriage.
The fractured light shimmered across his face, glinting off the tips of the piercings on his pointed ears, adding to the ethereal look of the room and his form. With the color flecks of light bleeding across his cheeks and the softened curve of his mouth, he looked... unreal. Like something sketched from the pages of a fae-touched legend. Too perfect. Too still.
Even his lips had parted slightly, a breath whispering past them. And there, just barely visible, the sharp curve of his canines peeked out.
His body sprawled across the mattress, too long for his large frame. His legs hung off the edge, and for some reason, that nearly made me laugh. A beast too big for mortal-made furniture.
Devastatingly beautiful.
And somehow, mine.
I didn't know exactly what compelled me—maybe it was the ghost of warmth still clinging to my skin, or the way the pale light painted his features with a quiet reverence—but I slipped from my bed and crossed the room before I could second-guess myself.
At the edge of his bed, I paused. My hand hovered, the urge to flick his forehead as a punishment for leaving my bed strong. I could almost imagine the groggy glare he'd give me. But then my eyes lingered.
Zaydon looked peaceful in a way I rarely saw. His dark blue-black hair was a tousled mess, half-falling over his temple like he'd wrestled a storm in his sleep. His sharp brows were relaxed, mouth slightly parted, the faintest glimpse of his canines showing. The tension that usually lived in his jaw had vanished, and he looked... young, unburdened, softer.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted the blanket and slid beneath it. Heat enveloped me immediately, his body like a furnace even in sleep, and I curled against him, fitting into the space where his chest met his arm, like I belonged there.
There were still shadows between us, still thorns in the soil of our shared history. But I didn't want to resist anymore. Not when the ache of him lived in my chest like something sacred.
As I settled, his arm moved on instinct, heavy and warm as it wrapped around my waist. His calloused palm flattened over my stomach, and he pulled me in tighter.
My breath hitched, and my cheeks burned into a shade of red I felt more than I could see.
Then came the sound—low, gravelly, dragged from sleep.
"Hmm?"
My pulse spiked. I shut my eyes quickly, feigning sleep, hoping he wouldn't—
"Morning, sweetheart."
His voice—gods, that voice—was deeper than usual, worn with sleep and something more primal. It rumbled through his chest and vibrated against my spine.
I huffed, trying to sound unbothered. "Good morning."
He chuckled. The sound crawled down my spine and raised goosebumps on my skin. I could feel heat pooling low in me, a flutter that I tried to smother before my blush reached my ears but it was too late.
He tugged on the tip of my ear, teasing like he always did, and I swatted his hand away
.
"Stop it, you overgrown lizard."
His laughter deepened, husky and amused.
"And drink some damn water," I muttered, folding my arms as if it could shield me from the flutter in my chest. "You sound like a demon."
I felt him shift closer, the warmth of his breath brushing my cheek, then my ear.
"A demon, huh?" he murmured. "Maybe an incubus, if I'm one."
A shiver licked down my spine.
"Shut it... and keep me warm."
He laughed again, then pulled me flush against him, his arm locking around my middle. His bare skin was hot against mine, all hard lines and heat. Every ridge of muscle, every inch of tanned, battle-hardened strength, pressed along my back until not even air could slip between us.
And then—gods help me—I felt it.
Something unmistakably solid nestled against the small of my back.
My throat closed, heat flooding every inch of me.
"What's wrong, Az?" he whispered, his breath curling over my cheek. "Feeling warm already? Your ears are turning red."
"I... um, no. Just shut up." The words stumbled out, cracked and flustered, as my body betrayed me in heat and tension.
Zaydon shifted beside me, rising slightly to lean on one elbow. The movement made his torso ripple with the slow grace of someone used to combat but utterly at ease in his skin. He reached out, fingers rough and warm, and tucked a loose strand of my maroon hair behind my ear. His green eyes sparkled with unrepentant mischief.
"Relax, Az," he said, voice thick and unholy in the early light. "It's a combination of needing to relieve myself... and morning wood."
My soul left my body.
Gods, why was his voice allowed to sound like that in the morning? All low gravel and heat, like smoke curling through silk.
I frowned and rolled onto my back to glare up at him, though my heart gave a confused little flutter at the sight of him hovering over me.
"I don't know if that's insulting or not," I grumbled out.
His smirk stretched into a slow, toothy grin. His canines caught the morning light, gleaming like a promise of trouble, and it was too sexy to be good for my health.
"I can change my answer if you like," he said, voice dipping a note lower. "All you have to do is..."
"Ask," I finished for him, exasperated. "You keep saying that."
"And you keep throwing tantrums instead of asking, Az."
I let out a sigh, dragging a hand over my face.
"Well, you're dumb sometimes. And I shouldn't have to ask for everything," I said, my voice slipping into a pout. "Like when you said you'd keep me warm, but then you abandoned me to the cold the second I fell asleep?"
The way he looked at me then, eyes crinkling and brow lifting, told me he was seconds away from sassing me into next week. I quickly raised a finger, silencing him before he could speak.
"Remember what I said?" I arched a brow. "You speak and ruin everything."
His laugh was low and quiet, more breath than sound, but it curled around my ribs and made something ease in my chest. He reached for my hand and gently wrapped his much larger one around it, his calluses brushing against my knuckles.
"I'll do better, Az," he murmured, thumb grazing over the side of my hand. "Be patient with me and with yourself. I only moved last night because I thought you might feel overwhelmed by everything we've said and done. We've been moving fast."
I looked away, my gaze dropping to his chest, unable to meet the steady calm in his eyes.
He wasn't wrong. The rhythm of us had accelerated like wildfire, too much, too quickly, and I was starting to crave more than I should. I could feel it, that dangerous pull. The way his presence soothed and stirred me in equal measure. But the danger wasn't just emotional. It was political.
Seven years ago, stealing a kiss from Zaydon had been risky. But now? Even more so now that I was of marriage age. Once we returned to the castle, I would cease being just Azalea. I'd become the Princess of Irisia again—dutiful, poised, composed. No more arguments. No more slipping into his bed. No more swearing, or touching, or giving in.
Just grace and diplomacy. Paperwork and manipulation. Expectations wrapped in a crown.
And we still didn't know who had betrayed us. We still didn't know Prince Darrin's next move.
And the Dragon's Bond…
That changed everything.
What I'd fallen for back then had already been complicated. But this? This was a storm of emotion layered in power, possession, and ancient magic I barely understood.
The bite on my neck still burned, not with pain, but with something deeper. A mark. A claim. A bond forged not only in blood but in something ancient and binding.
My chest tightened. So many fears. So many what-ifs.
A warm, calloused hand rose to cup my cheek.
"Breathe," Zaydon said softly.
I looked up at him.
His voice gentled, that unshakable steadiness threading through every word. "It's going to be okay. Whatever we face, we'll do it together. One step at a time, yeah?"
He wasn't just soothing me. He was anchoring me.
In the swirling storm of duty, guilt, betrayal, and magic, he was the one solid thing I had. Steady. Grounded. Mine.
Even if I didn't fully understand what that meant anymore.
It made me long for a different life. One where I wasn't a princess, where he wasn't bound by duty or war or bloodlines. A life where those stolen years had never been lost to silence, anger, and pain. Where we'd spent the last seven years together, uninterrupted. Maybe with a child in tow. Maybe traveling the kingdoms, exploring forgotten ruins, or dancing under starlight in lands untouched by court or crown. Just... living. Freely and boldly in a life that was wholly ours to live as we wished.
But I was a princess.
And he was my dragon and High Commander of Irisia.
Yet he was also the man who had marked me not just once but three times in different wayd. First, when he took my heart without asking and never gave it back. Again, when he bound himself to me through the Dragon's Bond, tethering our fates forever. And then the third and final time that was darker, deeper, and more eternal. The bite.
It lingered still—not on the skin, but in the marrow of my bones. In the beat of my heart between my ribs, in the slow shift of something primal curling within me. I didn't yet understand it, but it was there. Undeniably growing stronger as the days passed.
I wanted to ask him everything. Wanted to stay tangled in these sheets and pretend none of the outside world existed. No court. No betrayal. No politics. No past.
Just him. Just this.
But I couldn't because it felt selfish and wrong.
"Az, please," his voice broke through my thoughts. It was low, firm, but gentle. "It's only been a day since you woke up from the attack. We're stuck here until the gryphon's tame enough to fly. Just... stay in the moment. Just for a few days."
I breathed in slowly, his words grounding me like roots pulling me down from the spiraling storm in my mind. I pressed into him, burying my face against the warmth of his chest, my arms sliding around his waist as if holding him could keep the world at bay.
He responded immediately, arms folding around me in return. His touch was instinctive, steady, and encompassing. I breathed him in, the scent of him settling deep—smoke and snow, wild wind and something faintly like cedar warmed by sun.
His laugh rumbled in his chest, low and amused.
"Who's the creepy sniffer now, sweetheart?"
I nuzzled in closer, my lips brushing the skin above his heart. "Can you please shut it? I swear I'm going to find a way to shut you up someday. Let me enjoy the moment, stupid lizard."
He huffed a soft laugh, the smirk practically audible.
"Well, since you asked, sweetheart..."
For the next few days, our mornings stayed like that. Warmth tangled beneath shared blankets. Quiet words and quiet laughter between breaths. My bruises had faded to pale shadows of violet and green, growing fainter with each sunrise. Slowly, I began to settle into something that almost resembled peace.
Zaydon spent his daylight hours with the beast tamer, returning each evening with snow in his hair and the scent of wind and hay clinging to his skin. Grumbling about the gryphon being an overgrown angry chicken.
When our nights were spent together, it was filled with conversations around fond past memories, teasing insults,and laughter that came easier than it had in years. We found a rhythm again. Something but familiar. Something that felt like the life we might have had if fate had been kinder.
But today, I needed air and to get out of the Tavern. Being indoors was also driving me to insane levels of boredom.
I wrapped myself in one of Zaydon's warm cloaks, its silver lining catching faint glimmers of early light, and stepped out into the village.
The cold greeted me like a sharp stab in my lungs as I took a deep breath. A biting wind curled around the stone eaves of the houses, tugging at the loose strands of hair that had slipped from my braid. The sky overhead was pale, almost colorless, and was slowly darkening. Snow blanketed everything in a hush of white, soft and thick, muffling the world beneath its weight. It felt like the whole land had paused.
My boots crunched into the untouched layer of frost that had fallen during the night. The sound echoed in the silence, oddly satisfying. Flakes still drifted lazily through the air, catching in the fur trim of my cloak and melting against my lashes.
Things changed so quickly. One moment, you're floating on something fragile and golden. The next, you're drowning. And somehow, through pain or force of will or sheer stubbornness, you break the surface again. Gasping. Changed and something completely new.
Nature understood that better than anyone and did it best with every change of season.
Gone were the gilded hues of autumn. The russets and ambers and golds that once painted the hillsides like fire had vanished. The land had turned white and silent, the trees stripped bare and wrapped in frost. It was a different kind of beauty. Not warm or inviting, but clean and providing a clear slate for a new beginning.
Around me, the village stirred to life. Doors groaned open on iron hinges. Smoke coiled from chimneys into the washed-out sky, laced with the scent of pine and damp firewood. Children bundled in thick layers trudged through the snow as their parents ushered them toward the All-Sight Goddess's temple. A mother sang softly as she wiped snow from her daughter's cheeks. A father cursed gently while trying to free a wheel locked in ice.
Life moved here, slow, quiet, and constant. It must be night to live with this sense of normalcy. I wandered through the market square. The cold bit pleasantly at my cheeks, my lungs burning in a way that made me feel present and awake. I passed stalls strung with furs, ropes of herbs, jars of pickled vegetables stacked neatly on crates. Then something caught my eye.
Tucked between two larger vendors was a small flower stall, half-concealed by burlap sagging beneath snow. Most of the blooms had curled in on themselves, petals dry and brittle from the frost. But one stood out that always fought against winter's cold. A single stem of hyacinth. Its colour is now a fading pale violet.
I didn't pause to question myself. My fingers reached for it, and I pressed a few coins into the vendor's gloved hand without speaking.
The petals trembled in the chill as I brought it close, cradling the fragile stem in my hand. My breath hung in the air, curling around the flower like smoke.
I didn't know why I had chosen it but looking at those around me most carried a small bouquet of them. But something more shifted in me. Something quiet and insistent, like a thread being jerked and tight with tension. It was a pull that hummed softly beneath my skin, and it was urging me forward.
Daring me to follow.