"I found it."
Aiden whispered the words to the empty room, his finger pressing down on a point in the center of the ancient, rolled-up vellum map spread across his desk. The map smelled of dust and fading magic, a relic from a time when the Spine Mountains were charted with a mixture of fear and awe.
For days, he had cross-referenced Seraphine's information on the "Heart-Eaters" with failed patrol logs and ignored local legends. And there, nestled in a hidden valley marked only with a scrawled dragon symbol, he found it. A cave, sheltered from the wind, with an aerial approach only, near a geothermal vent that would hide the signs of a slaughter. Their nest.
A pure, intoxicating sense of accomplishment surged through him. This was no longer a "maybe" plan. It was real. There was a clear purpose, a tangible target.
He carefully rolled up the map. His plan was simple, bold, and, in his opinion, brilliant. He would go alone. Just him and Nimbus, his loyal black dragon. They could fly under the radar, land silently, and observe. No bureaucracy, no slow royal armies, and no... "harem" of chaotic maids to jeopardize the mission with their antics. This was his task, a penance for his long apathy.
He scribbled a short, vague note on a piece of parchment—"Pressing royal business. Back in a few days."—and left it on his desk. Then, with his leather cloak on and the map safely tucked inside, he slipped out of his study, his steps confident and hurried.
The castle felt different as he moved through the silent corridors in the dead of night. It was no longer a prison, but a base of operations. Every shadow was a hiding place, every sound a potential threat. He felt like himself for the first time.
He reached the rookery without incident. The air inside was warm and familiar, the distinct smell of Nimbus—a mix of ozone and sun-scorched hide—filled his senses. The large black dragon lifted his head from his slumber, his golden eyes gleaming in the dark, letting out a low rumble that asked a question.
"Time for a little flight, my friend," Aiden whispered, stroking Nimbus's rough snout. "We have some hunters to face."
He began to prepare the saddle, his movements practiced and efficient. Excitement pumped through his veins. Freedom. Purpose.
"A midnight flight? With no escort? Aiden, really, this is irresponsible, even for you."
The voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the rookery's silence like a dagger of ice. Aiden froze, his hand still on a saddle strap. He didn't need to turn. He could feel her presence, just as he had with Lyra, but this was different. It wasn't obsession; it was absolute authority.
Queen Isolde stood in the tower's entrance, wearing a dark blue silk gown that seemed inappropriate for the hour, yet perfect for a queen catching her son trying to escape. She wasn't alone. Two royal guards stood behind her, their faces expressionless.
"Mother," Aiden said, his voice flat. He turned to face her directly. "This is not your concern."
"Oh, but it is," she said, stepping into the tower. Her eyes scanned Nimbus, then returned to Aiden, and there was a disappointment there that was far more cutting than anger. "A prince disappearing in the middle of the night for a trip to the Spine Mountains? That's not an adventure, Aiden. That's a declaration of war."
"It's about justice!" Aiden retorted, his frustration boiling over. "They are slaughtering dragons! They killed Granite's mate! Are we supposed to sit and wait for them to bring that savagery to our castle gates?"
"Justice is served with armies and alliances, not the reckless gallivanting of a boy trying to prove something," Isolde said sharply. "You fly in there on one dragon and you die. Or worse, you're captured. Do you know what happens then? The Spine Mountain clans will have the perfect excuse to declare war. Your blood will be the spark that burns the entire kingdom."
Aiden clenched his fists. "So what do you suggest? We talk to them? Send them a very angry letter?"
"I suggest you act like a king, not a storybook knight," the Queen said, her voice turning cold. "This is why I have worked so hard to marry you off. An alliance with a powerful clan of dragon riders would give you legitimacy. They would fly their armies with you, not let you go alone."
She was twisting his noble mission, turning it into an argument for her marriage agenda. It was brilliant, maddening manipulation.
"I don't need a wife to fight my battles for me," Aiden growled.
"Clearly, you need someone to tell you when you've lost," Isolde countered. She nodded at her guards. "Take the saddle. Prince Aiden is going nowhere tonight."
The guards stepped forward. For a moment, Aiden considered fighting. To call to Nimbus, to leap onto his back and fly through the roof window. But his eyes met his mother's. She had already thought of that. The guards were already standing near the harness ropes.
He was beaten. Outmaneuvered by cold logic and political power.
With slow, defeated movements, Aiden loosened the strap he was holding. He felt all the progress he'd made—his resolve, his purpose—evaporate like smoke.
"You are confined to the castle until further notice," Queen Isolde said, her voice calm again, as if she'd just ordered tea. "We will discuss this again when you are more sensible and no longer acting like a child."
She turned and swept out of the tower, her guards following, carrying Nimbus's saddle with them.
Aiden was left standing in the silence, his loyal dragon letting out a confused snort. He had found his enemy. He had a plan. But before he could even step out the gate, the Queen had moved the game board and locked all his pieces in place.
He had found it, yes. But now, he was trapped. And the only people who could help him escape this gilded cage were the five women he had been trying to leave behind.