The night air outside the ballroom was cool, quiet, and mercifully free of staring nobles.
Lanterns lined the marble pathway, their golden glow soft against the dark garden hedges. Music still drifted faintly from inside, muffled by thick palace walls. Snow Dragon trotted beside them, tail swaying lazily, tiny hiccups escaping its snout from the wine it had secretly stolen earlier. Iris absently patted its head as they walked.
Eira glanced sideways at her.
"…So," he said slowly, voice low with embarrassment, "I love you, huh?"
Iris blinked once.
"Did I do something wrong?" she asked, completely serious, still stroking the dragon.
Eira nearly tripped. "N-No! That's not— I mean— you just— you said it like it was a royal decree!"
"I did?"
"Yes."
She tilted her head slightly, thinking.
"…It was effective."
Eira covered his face with one hand. "That's not the point."
Snow Dragon chirped in agreement.
Iris looked at him, calm and composed as always, while he stood there red-eared and flustered like a boy caught stealing sweets.
"You blush easily," she observed.
"I do not."
"You are now."
"I am not."
"You are."
"…I am."
She nodded once, satisfied.
---
They continued walking.
For a few steps, neither spoke. Gravel crunched softly underfoot. The night smelled faintly of jasmine.
Eira exhaled.
"I'm… confused," he admitted. "About a lot of things. About her. About you. About myself."
He glanced at the sky. "She used to be important to me. Maybe she still is, somewhere. But when she talks like that… it feels like I'm hearing about someone else. Like she's describing a version of me I don't recognize."
Iris listened quietly.
"I don't hate her," he went on. "I just… don't know where I stand anymore. And you…"
He hesitated.
"…you call me your friend. You talk lightly with me. You trust me. It's easy with you. Too easy. And that scares me a little."
Iris's hand paused on Snow Dragon's head.
"Why?"
"Because nothing important in my life has ever been easy."
Silence settled again.
Then—
"You deserve better," Iris said.
Her voice wasn't soft.
It was steady.
Certain.
"She and they," she continued, glancing back toward the palace, "do not know who you are. Not truly."
Eira frowned slightly. "I'm just—"
"You are the reason my people still breathe."
He looked at her.
Her golden eyes held no exaggeration. No comfort. Only truth.
"To my land," she said, "you are not a guest. Not a helper. Not a traveler."
A pause.
"You are our hero."
The words landed heavier than any praise he'd ever heard.
Snow Dragon gave a proud squeak.
Eira rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "…You make it sound grander than it was."
"I make it sound accurate."
---
They reached the outer gate.
Moonlight spilled across the stone archway, silvering Iris's hair until she looked almost unreal.
She stopped walking.
"There is another reason I came tonight," she said.
Eira's posture straightened slightly. "I figured."
"Our spies sent word."
That got his full attention.
"They found traces," she continued, "of a dragon."
Eira blinked. "Another one?"
"Yes. Not like yours."
Snow Dragon sneezed indignantly.
"This one," Iris said calmly, "hunts those chosen by gods."
The night suddenly felt colder.
"He believes," she added, "that no one except him deserves divine favor. Anyone marked by a deity… he kills."
Eira's expression darkened. "A fanatic."
"A madman," Iris agreed. "But a powerful one. Ancient. Old enough that he may know truths buried thousands of years ago."
Eira's gaze sharpened. "About the past… or about the war?"
"Both," she said. "Possibly about the gods themselves."
Wind stirred her hair.
"He may know what really happened," she finished quietly. "Before history was rewritten."
Eira stood still.
For once—
he wasn't blushing.
His eyes held something colder.
Something focused.
"…Then I guess," he said softly, "I'll have to meet him."
Snow Dragon growled in tiny agreement.
Iris watched him for a long moment.
Then she nodded.
"I thought you would say that."
---
The palace lights glowed behind them.
Ahead—
only moonlight, silence, and the promise of a storm yet to come.