Chapter 5.

15:54, Tuesday, the 30th of April, 2028.

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“Balloons,” I hissed, lurching up to snap at one, my teeth missing the skin of the thing by the barest inch. “Horrible.”

Rhys, a ways away, blowing more of the things, snorted. “Alys, I'm trying to make more of them; stop eating them.” And threw a pink one into a small pile. “What's with you, anyway? You're all twitchy.”

My mask was itchy and it was warm, so I'd forgone it.

“Because it's an important day, and I can’t afford to ruin it,” I explained, angling my head and cracking my jaw where it'd been long-since broken, allowing a feeling of relief to spread across my cheek, muscles realigning. “And we're behind on schedule.”

“Schedule,” Rhys warbled, mimicking me. I turned to him, glaring. “He's ten; he'll be happy if there's cake, his friends, and presents that make him look cool. Just… chill.”

I snapped at another balloon before slinking over to the long, food-laden table off to the side with the laptop, close to the oversized speakers Rhys had dragged in.

According to him, I recalled as I leant down to squint at my monitor, they'd belonged to a friend of his.

“I am chill,” I repeated, paw lifting, talons tapping against the keys. “I am also aware of how important today is. If he fails to light the pyre–"

“Which he won't.”

“If he fails, then think of how that'll make him look.”

The tension in his haunches and the tightening of his tail’s sharp coil told me he'd thought of this too, only he’d kept quiet about it. “He won't,” he repeated, sharper, more commanding, a flicker of dragon rising up. “I know him. He’s too strong.”

He was probably right.

He did know Jarys better than I. He'd practically raised the drake. He and Samys, at least.

I’d just shown up.

I tapped on my laptop and searched for the speakers but found nothing. They weren't on Google, and when I searched in the little… box… there was only my existing sound machine. I had no idea how it worked and was hoping James or Rhys' friend would know, but neither had shown up.

Instead, I perused the lunch table, admiring how the helper humans and one eager kobold had arranged the snacks. Cake was something I'd never liked – too sweet – but Rhys had insisted on it, making sure the blocky human with his pickaxe was done just right.

I didn't question it.

The only video game I’d played was the robot ninja one Rhys had installed on my laptop so we could play once or twice a week. It was fun but too fast-paced for my liking and terrible eyesight.

“Rhys,” I called out. “I don’t know how this works. The computer won't-" I searched my mind for the human word for it before realising there was no point. “Fydd e ddim yn siarad â'r siaradwyr.”

He looked over at me, ears pricked, sheepish. “S-Sorry, say that again. You spoke kind of fast, and I’m really rusty.”

...Something about that rubbed me the wrong way, but I pushed it down, along with whatever fragments of annoyance bubbled up.

“The laptop won’t connect to the speakers. I have the video playing, but the sound is still coming from the computer and not them,” I explained, gesturing rapidly with a wing.

“Eric said they're Bluetooth,” Rhys said, joining me, leaning over. “Just go into settings. The gear icon.”

Squinting hard, praying to Skie that my bad eye would finally focus, I watched the mouse icon drag itself over into the corner. “This?”

“Yeah.”

I clicked it and a window opened up. Magical. Pairing was next, Rhys said, which I clicked on. “Now what?”

Sliding in next to me, he spun the laptop in his direction. “Uhh. I think they're Sony?”

A loud chime had me jumping back, fangs bared. “Haha! Success! Didn't need James after all.” Music, chipper and loud and oh so migraine-inducing, began playing loudly. “What time's he coming anyway?”

I straightened up and pretended I hadn't tried to fight a computer. “Not sure. He just said he'll be here and that he'll bring cupcakes.” I trotted away and sat at the main table in the centre of the room, took my tablet from its pack and checked the time. “Jarys is late.”

“Buses are bad,” Rhys said, still fiddling with my computer. “And Samys refuses to use the internet, so she’s not messaged, which is…” A long, low sigh. “...Fantastic." Clack clack. “You talked to James since last week?”

“Only at work, and not about the party.” My online reader displayed the current chapter of the book I’d been reading. One set on a distant world of sand and spice and great wyrms. Long-winded, but my English still wasn’t very good, so I learned by reading. “...And I do not have his number.”

“You could just add him on Facebook.”

I didn't answer, and he never pushed. Maybe in another life.

He focused on his tablet, and I on my story.

#

A little later, childish music still playing, the door burst open, and in ran an excited young drake, birthday-morning headphones hanging around his neck, connected by a wire to the pack on his back.

My tail wagged behind me, but I stilled it as I stood up.

His head shook from side to side as he did his best to take in everything in one instance – the banners, the balloons, the food and the cake – and then his ears flicked in the direction of the speakers. Excitement, bright and obvious and enough to put a smile on my snout.

Still, I slipped the mask from my bag onto my face, just so I wouldn’t ruin it for him.

He ran to Rhys first, which I didn’t entirely love, but I pushed it down when he barrelled towards me. I caught him in a dead stop and nuzzled him as greedily as I was able to.

“Little hatchling." I grinned, feeling myself rumble and paws stepping in a rhythm beneath me before I stopped it, restored my image. “How was school?”

“Good,” he chirruped. “Oliver said he’s coming, and Maisie’s mum is getting me a Switch card.”

I felt my head tilt. “Switch card?”

I looked over to Rhys, who, tight-lipped, nudged his head in the direction of the doorway where our relative stood. Samys was gold-eyed, tall and slim with sharp wings and an ever-calm expression. A fighter and survivor like me, only she'd kept her cool and remained mostly unmarred.

Attached to the hooks on her harness, I noticed, was a plastic bag from a games store.

Past Samys, I glanced and saw… nobody.

“Where’s Ciaran?” I asked, unable to spot the pudgy young hen.

“With her boyfriend,” she answered easily, perusing the scene with sharp eyes.

“And Ris?”

She arched a brow and gestured to my brother. “Your brother Ris,” I clarified.

“Same answer then.” Smoothly, she padded over, pressed Jarys to her side with a wing and eyed me. “...You're still wearing that?” I knew what she meant, and it made me growl unintentionally.

“You didn’t ask them to come?” Rhys asked, likely spotting the tightness in me.

“Of course I asked them,” Samys sighed. “But you know how Ciaran gets about people and Ris… I don’t even know.” From the bag she took out a large red box with a black computer on the front. “Where are the gifts? I was told this is good for children.”

“Near Rhys,” I said, watching as his snout twisted up in tension so strong it made me pause. Jarys kept chattering to me about school drama whilst our cousin moved to the gift-food hybrid table. He met her halfway and spoke in a tone low enough that neither I nor the young drake could hear.

But I could. Senses dulled, blood became audible in my ears as everything else fell away.

“Sammy, do you know how expensive that Switch is?” He whispered.

Samys placed the box down. I heard the thud. “Yes, of course I do. Is there a problem?”

“No. I-It’s really good, thank you, but we tried to keep to a budget.”

“And I did not. It is a present, and he'll like it.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to… expect things like this too often.” A sound like a tongue against a scale – wetting his chops; nervous. “You know me and Alys don’t make very much, and the stipends are being cut.”

“Then speak to him about this.” Sourness entered her tone. “Do not tell me how to spend my own money.”

I stopped listening, my heart pounding, heat coursing through me, pooling uncomfortably in my chest. Proper sight returned to me. The Switch was something she had known he wanted. Something she could give him without thinking.

Something I could not.

Jarys nudged me, breaking the trance. “Can we have food now?” He asked, before leaning in conspiratorially. “Samys wouldn’t let me have anything on the bus.”

Food. Yes. I'd done that. I’d arranged food; I'd done well.

“Later,” Samys called out, hearing him easily as her hearing wasn't as damaged as mine. “It's tradition for Archons to eat at once, not separately.” The crane of her long, curved neck had her watching me. Friction flared, gold against crimson.

“...You can have one of the cupcakes that James brings,” I said, loud enough for her to hear. “If he brings them.” And that was decided. As the eldest sibling, as the female, I was quasi-matriarch.

Samys wouldn't actively challenge me, I told myself, claws drumming against the case of my tablet.

Her maw twitched, tail curling upwards.

I held my ground.

Samys’ eyes narrowed.

“How’s work?” Rhys called out, loud enough to cut through the air. Her gaze floated over to him. “You got a big promotion, right?”

“Yes,” she said, exhaling and padding over to the table I’d been sat beside, close to Jarys. “I am now in charge of telling humans to bag groceries. It’s middling, but the money is nice.” Rhys remained near the food table, my laptop screen black.

“Must be nice,” my brother said wistfully. “I’m still stuck doing part-time, but the discount’s alright.”

Samys huffed, a low, amused sound, settling back onto her haunches beside my table. “You always did like scraps,” she said, glancing at him sidelong. “Discounts, shortcuts, half-measures.”

Rhys grinned, unbothered. “And you always liked doing everything the hard way. Funny how that worked out.”

“It worked out well,” she replied smoothly, though the edge had softened. “I am paid more than you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved a paw. “You and your proper job. Very impressive. Do you get a badge? A little hat?”

“I have a hat,” I mumbled, ignored.

“I get authority,” she said, lifting her chin just slightly. “Which is more than you’ve ever managed.”

“Ouch,” Rhys winced theatrically, clutching at his chest with a paw. “That one hurt.”

“Yes, well-”

The door opened, clattered, banged too loud.

“Shit,” someone whisper-shouted, followed by yet another banging sound. In walked James, arms heavy with plastic containers full of colourful snacks. He looked over at us, then at the room. "Hey-" The door banged shut behind him, and he jumped, dropping a box. “Sorry. Sorry. Hands full and that door’s weirdly heavy, by the way.”

“Just put them on the food table,” our cousin said, lips curled, her temporary good mood gone in an instant.

James fumbled over to the long table Rhys was sat at and dumped the containers on a free space before taking a moment to arrange them. And then he stood, back to the table, hands in his jean pockets, expression polite. “So, uh, I’m not late, am I?”

“No. You can go now.”

He looked to her, brow raised. Then he laughed, short and sudden and confused. “Oh, no, no. I-I don’t work here. I’m Alys’ plus one.”

“This isn’t that kind of gathering.”

James baulked, leaning as he glanced between me and her, expression unreadable. His lips pursed, brows furrowing. “Okay… and what does that mean? It's a party, right?”

I got up, looped my tail around Jarys', and dragged him forward. “Nothing,” I said, huffing out of my nose to try and centre myself. “Jarys, look.”

He didn’t move at first. He looked wound up, nostrils flared and haunches tight. I nudged him again and nodded my head in the direction of the treats. He didn’t look there; he looked to James who-

Oh.

I hadn't told him.

The human’s eyes widened visibly, his mouth opening subtly as he looked him over in a few quick moments.

Then his mouth shut suddenly, and he, shaky hand at his temple, looked away. “H-Hey,” he began, fixing his hair. “Your sister said you like these?”

I hadn't been told not to stare and hadn’t mentioned that Jarys and I shared more than just blood.

That his snout was almost as marred as my own.

Jarys nodded, downcast eyes on the floor, then up at me when James began picking through the plastic tubs. He looked at the mask I wore, one of many, wondering something he shouldn’t have wondered, and I hated myself for it, made to remove the cloth.

Didn’t.

His face fell.

“Check it!” James said, too loud, holding out a cupcake with a green face made out of frosting. And he, in an uncharacteristically friendly voice, tapped the side of his head. “Creeper. Got them custom made just for you.”

“You did?” He squeaked, moving closer, just a pinch. James passed it over and took one of his own, angling it towards the young drake, showing off the zombie.

“Ya. Your sister said you liked Minecraft.” He lied, taking a bite before motioning to the rest of what he'd brought. “And the rest of these are random. You get to pick.”

Rhys, who had been watching, hummed dramatically. “Uhh. Pass us a pig then if you've got one, please.” With it in one claw, he flipped his tablet around with the other and sat back upon his haunches. “Eric said he’ll try to be here, too. Oh! He’s put your book in reserve for you.”

Samys stepped over, moved James aside without a word and looked the cupcakes over, nose wrinkling. "What are in these?” Her eyes locked onto his, but he held steady. “Are they safe?”

“It’s, uhh, icing and sponge cake. I think.” He picked the packet up, tilted it to check the ingredients. “Why?”

She snatched it from him with a snarl so loud it had him flinching. “We can’t have milk, you fool.”

James blinked, hand still half-raised where the packet had been. “Oh, uh, sorry, I didn’t know. I can grab something else if—"

Samys didn’t let him finish.

She stepped into him.

It wasn’t a strike – no claws and no snap of her maw – but it carried weight. Her shoulder knocked into his chest, wing angling just enough to crowd him back a step. A claiming of space. A dismissal.

“You didn’t ask,” she said, voice low and edged. “You didn’t think.”

“I did. Alys said cupcakes; I just didn’t know-"

“That is the problem.”

Her tail lashed once, sharply.

“You don’t know. You don’t understand what we can and cannot eat, what harms us, and what doesn’t. And yet you bring food.” Her lip curled faintly. “From your kind.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to keep up the friendly facade. “I mean… it’s just cupcakes. I can take them back; it’s really not as big a deal as you-”

“You brought them for him.”

Her head tilted toward Jarys without looking.

“You decided what he eats.”

“I didn’t!” He snapped at last, that calmness slipping fast. “I was told to bring cupcakes, so I thought–"

“You thought," she repeated, softer, more dangerous.

The room tightened.

Rhys had gone still by the laptop. The music kept playing, too loud and too bright for the shift in air.

James’ eyes flicked quick and uncertain towards me.

“…Right,” he said, quieter. “Yeah. Okay.”

He looked down at the cupcakes, then at Jarys, then back to Samys, trying to find footing that wasn’t there. His expression darkened, and he put the snack down.

"Alys," he said, voice distant now. Bitter in a way I sometimes saw him go when he thought nobody was watching at work. “Should I just go?”

“No.”

It came out sharp. Immediate. Instinctual.

He froze.

I moved without thinking, stepping between them, my body angling just enough to block her from him. My tail dropped low, rigid, the tip twitching once before going still.

“You’re staying,” I said.

Samys’ gaze slid to me, slow and deliberate, golden eyes narrowing.

“Alys.”

“Stop." Not loud, nut there was steel in it -- I'd put it there. “He’s my guest.”

“This is not a den for strays.”

My claws flexed against the floor. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Her lip pulled back, just enough to show sharp teeth.

“I do. I also get to decide what threatens my family.”

“He brought a gift. One I asked for, and he was kind enough to bring.”

“He brought poison!”

“It’s not poison! It's a smidge of milk!”

And then, like it’d been building for years, her voice dipped, venom laced and sharp.

…

“...You weren’t there.”

I stopped. I knew what she’d meant in an instant. The unspoken moment at last was made vocal.

Samys stepped closer. Not to James this time, but to me. Head raising so she could look me in the eyes, voice dropping further, every inch of her controlled and precise, scales glinting and expression dark.

She was smaller, weaker, but there wasn't a hint of that in the way she stood.

“I was,” she continued, each word measured. “When he was small. When your harmless humans got too close. When one of them decided to see what would happen if they struck something that couldn’t fight back.”

My stomach turned, my breathing became audible, air slipping in through the gap in my jaw.

“You weren’t,” she said again, sharper, frayed and furious at the edges. “You weren’t there when he screamed. When he bled. When we had to carry him because he couldn’t walk.”

My claws dug into the floor.

“You don’t get to tell me what is safe,” she finished. “I do.”

Heat surged – fast, violent, and blinding.

“I know what happened!” I snapped, my voice rising despite myself.

“You’ve seen the result,” she shot back, head lifting, neck arching. “Not the cause.”

“That doesn't –"

“It means you don’t understand.”

“I understand enough-”

“No, you don’t.”

Her wings flared slightly, not fully, but enough to make herself larger and to press.

“You arrived after, ” she said. “Years after it was done. After he was already broken open and put back together.”

Each word struck harder than the last.

“You get to play sister now,” she continued, quiet and vicious. “You get to pretend you know what’s best. But I was there when he needed protecting.”

My talons scraped the floor as I fought to keep myself steady.

“...You don’t deserve this.”

Something in me snapped.

I moved.

Claws unsheathed, teeth bared and eyes wide. My hindlegs tensed, prepared to pounce.

“Stop it!”

I froze completely.

“Stop I-It.”

Everything broke.

The words were small.

Thin.

Shaking.

I froze mid-motion and shut my mouth, realising the mask had slipped.

Jarys stood where he’d been, cupcake clenched in his claws. The frosting had smeared, crushed under the pressure of his grip the creeper’s face had broken. His ears were flat, his whole body tight, trembling in a way that had nothing to do with excitement anymore.

“I don’t want it,” he said, his voice wobbling. “I don’t want any of it.”

The cupcake slipped from his grasp and hit the floor.

No one moved.

“I wanted it to be good and normal, like school,” he went on, quieter now, eyes fixed somewhere between us all, misty and shining, not quite crying but on that horrible razor edge. “Just… good.”

Normal.

The word hollowed something out in my chest, left me empty and searching.

He sniffed quickly, sharply, trying to stop it. Failing.

Sniffle.

“Can you not fight? F-For one day…?”

My claws lowered.

Slowly.

The heat drained as fast as it had come, leaving only cold and pressure behind.

I stepped back. “…Jarys,” I said, but the word felt wrong in my mouth. Too small. Too late, like always.

He didn’t look at me.

Behind me, James shifted, careful, like any sudden movement might make things worse.

“You…” he started, his voice low. “Hey, it’s okay. I can just- I’ll head out, yeah? It’s not a big deal.”

“No,” I said again.

But it wasn’t sharp now.

Just… tired. Pleading, maybe.

Samys exhaled slowly through her nose. When I glanced at her, her posture had lowered slightly. Not yielding. Never that. But the edge had dulled.

“He comes first,” she said.

“I know,” I answered quickly, snapping.

This time, I meant it without argument.

Rhys finally moved, pushing himself up from the laptop. "Alright," he said, voice deliberately light, stepping into the space between all of us. “Reset. Yeah?”

No one answered.

He didn’t wait.

“Music’s off,” he added, already turning, killing it. The sudden quiet rang louder than the noise ever had. “We wait for people to come in, we eat, we do presents, and no one kills anyone. Revolutionary.”

Jarys sniffed again, wiping at his wet muzzle with the back of his claw.

I forced myself to move. Slower, more deliberate, lowering my body as I approached him. My wings tightened against my barrel so I'd look smaller.

“No one’s fighting,” I said, trying not to let my voice waver as I pitched it up. “Not anymore.”

He didn’t pull away.

I didn’t touch him. Just stayed close, head lowered.

“…Okay,” he muttered.

Relief hit me so hard I almost gasped.

Behind me, I could feel it – distance. A shift.

James.

I glanced back.

He stood near the food table, shoulders drawn in just slightly. Quieter. Smaller.

His eyes met mine for a second, and there was something there – uncertainty, maybe. Or just the aftermath of being caught in something that wasn’t his domain.

I looked away first.

“Sit,” I said, gesturing with a wing.

He hesitated. “…You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

A beat.

Then he nodded, pulled out a chair carefully, like he wasn’t totally convinced he was allowed to take up room. Jarys saddled up beside me, pressing his cheek to my side. I let a wing fall over him so he wouldn’t be embarrassed if anyone saw him cuddling.

#

People came in slow trickles after that, as if waiting for the resolution. A scant few dragons and then a large swath of humans with their kids.

Jarys ran off immediately to tackle one of his friends, his mother glancing over at me, somehow both concerned and amused, like she’d gotten used to it. Accepted the chaos of children in a way I hadn’t yet.

I didn’t move to stop him.

Instead, I lowered myself beside the table and rested my head against its edge, the wood cool beneath my aching jaw. My eyes slipped shut, if only to dull the noise, the movement, and the weight pressing in behind my eyes.

Around me, without me, things continued.

Rhys was talking again, too loud, forcing normalcy into the space like he always did. Samys answered him, her tone even, controlled – like nothing had slipped, like nothing had been said that couldn’t be taken back.

Like she hadn’t meant it.

My claws tapped once against the floor, then stopped. Across the room, I could feel a presence.

James.

I’d told him to stay. I wasn’t sure why.

A burst of laughter pulled my attention back. Jarys again, already caught up in something else, something easier. His tail whipped behind him, careless, alive.

Normal.

But there was this… feeling. Or maybe it was the absence of one, and it pulled at me, forced my vision back to the human.

My gaze drifted slow until it found him properly.

He’d taken the chair I’d pointed out earlier, but he wasn’t really sitting in it.

More perched, like he might leave at any second if someone gave him a reason. Elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped, eyes following nothing in particular.

Watching without looking.

He was just like me.

For a moment, I just… stayed there. That strange pull in my chest tightening, not unpleasant, just… unfamiliar.

Then I pushed myself up.

Crossed the space between us.

He noticed halfway, straightening a little, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Hey,” he said, easy, like nothing had happened. “Party’s, uh… loud.”

“It is,” I replied, settling beside him rather than across. Close enough that our shoulders almost touched.

Almost.

He glanced at me, quick, then back to the room. “Kid seems happy,” he added, nodding towards Jarys, who was now being half-dragged by his tail into some game involving shouting and far too much running around the tables.

Nearly knocked a woman getting food over.

“Yes.” The word came out softer than I meant it to.

A pause stretched, not quite awkward, but not exactly smooth either.

He filled it first. “For the record,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t mean to… you know. Start anything.”

“I know.”

“Good.” A small exhale, almost a laugh but not quite. “Would’ve been a weird legacy. That one guy who brought the wrong cupcakes and nearly caused a dragon war."

Despite myself, my lip twitched. “You did bring poison.”

“Oh, yeah, my bad,” he said immediately, deadpan. “Next time I’ll go for something more subtle -- like a gun.”

A breath left me, my tail twitching behind me, but I stilled it.

He caught it, glancing sideways at me, something flickering there. “Hey,” he said, nudging the edge of the table with his knee. “Progress! I got, like… half a laugh. I’m totes counting that.”

“It wasn’t a laugh.”

“Mm. Sure, sure.” He nodded solemnly. “Very serious, very dignified non-laugh.”

I shifted slightly, angling towards him. “...You stayed.”

He shrugged like it was nothing. “You did ask me to.”

“It wasn’t a command. You could’ve left.”

“Kinda felt like one,” he said, a faint grin tugging at his mouth, shifting a mole. “You’ve got, like, a presence when you want to. Plus you said it twice."

“I have been told I’m scary.”

“Yeah, you sort of are,” he said, glancing at me again, more openly this time. “But not in a bad way. Was really cool when you bit Sophie’s head off last week. Really appreciated that.”

Something behind my ribs clenched again. Warmer, this time.

I shifted, just slightly closer, enough that our shoulders brushed if either of us moved the wrong way. He didn’t notice.

“Good,” I said, quieter. “I wouldn’t want to frighten you off.”

He huffed a small laugh. “Little late for that, isn’t it?”

“That depends,” I murmured, angling my head, watching him properly now. “You’re still here.”

“Yeah,” he said, easy. “You commanded me to stay, remember?”

“That’s not the only reason.”

The words came out smoother than I expected. Intentional.

He blinked at that, half a pause.

“Ooh,” he said, grin sliding back into place. “What, you saying I want to be here? That’s crazy.”

“I am saying,” I continued, leaning just a little more into it, “that you could leave. If you wanted to, which you don't.”

His eyes flicked to mine, then away again, amused. “Or I’m just really bad at reading the room.”

“That is also true,” I allowed.

He laughed properly at that.

Short and bright and totally unguarded, and it did something strange to my focus. I’d never seen him do that, never seen so much of… him.

His head tipped forward, messy hair falling loose across his forehead, catching the light from the overhead fixtures. It shifted when he moved, soft in a way that didn’t match anything else about him, then without thinking he lifted a hand, fixed it, only for it to fall back down again.

He didn’t seem to notice.

I did.

My gaze lingered too long on that mess of almost-grey, mind running with thoughts about how it'd feel against my paws. A scent of fresh mint wafted over me -- the ludicrous shampoo he used. He didn't smell of oil either.

He shifted again, elbow on his knee, cheek resting into his palm as he looked out over the room. Relaxed. Unaware. Light catching in his eyes when he turned, something almost violet in the blue for a second.

It tugged at my chest.

Annoyingly.

“…You are very pretty,” I said.

My mouth snapped shut, teeth banging.

He snorted.

Actually snorted.

“Alright,” he said, shaking his head. “See, now I know you’re messing with me.”

“I-I am,” I said immediately.

Too fast.

Too clean.

“...I’m joking.”

He raised both hands like I’d just pointed something at him. “Nah, nah. Too late. I’m taking it.”

“It was not—!”

“Already accepted,” he cut in, nodding firmly, smile wide enough it made the edges of his eyes crinkle. “Locked in. Can’t take it back now. That’ll keep me fed for months.”

I shut my mouth to stop the growl, felt my cheeks burn.

“I was trying to cheer you up,” I said instead, flattening my tone as best as I could, forcing it into something dismissive, trying to pretend I understood why I’d said it to begin with. “You seemed sad.”

“Wow,” he said, glancing at me, half a laugh still in his voice. “So you call everyone very pretty when they’re having a rough time?”

“No.”

“Just me then? Very nice.”

“...That’s not what I said.”

“Mmmmhmm,” he hummed, clearly not convinced. “Feels like it”

I looked away from him, back to the room, to Jarys.

“So many regrets,” I muttered.

He laughed cheekily at that. “Hey, I didn’t say it was bad,” he said. “Bit unexpected, sure, but again, I’ll take it.” A small pause. Then, lighter, “Don’t get many compliments from dragons. Feels like a milestone.”

“Don’t make a habit of it,” I said.

“Way too late,” he replied.

I flicked an ear, resisting the urge to look back at him.

“…You are insufferable.”

“Yeah,” he said easily, head tilting back. “I’m pretty insufferable, apparently. Haha!”

That dragged something dangerously close to a laugh out of me so I pressed it down as hard as I could, looked as sour as I was able to.

Across the room, Jarys shouted again, dragging attention with him, and I let myself focus there instead, on something simpler. Safer.

Beside me, James shifted again, settling a little more properly into the chair now, less like he might bolt at any second.

…Good.

Even if my pulse hadn’t quite settled back to normal yet.