“I wanted chicken tenders and fries,” DJ groaned.
“I want macaroni and cheese,” Roo said.
“Wow! This is just like being back home,” Phoenix giggled.
Carly laughed. “We’ve got it all. What would you like, Phoenix?”
“All the above,” Phoenix replied with a grin.
“Guess what you’re having for lunch, honey,” Carly teased, looking up at him.
He chuckled. “The usual. Why don’t you take the children and Phoenix to the dining room? I… need to speak with my parents. I’ll join you shortly.”
Carly’s expression cast a worried glance at his tone. “Is everything alright?”
Drago hesitated, then brushed a hand over Carly’s cheek. “I believe so. But… watch over her. Please. She’s special.”
“I will.” She leaned in, kissing him softly. “I’ll try to save you some food,” she added with a wink.
A gentle smile tugged at his lips. He watched as Carly took Phoenix’s hand. Phoenix smiled, turning to listen as Carly asked her where her mom was from and how on earth she had gotten to Valdier—wherever that was. He relaxed when Roo immediately grabbed Phoenix’s other hand, dragging her toward the corridor while the boys raced ahead, complaining loudly about how starving they were.
Only when they disappeared did Drago release the breath he’d been holding.
The castle seemed quieter now, the stones around him heavy with memory. He turned, walking slowly to the spiraling staircase that led to the oldest wing of the castle—his parents’ private chambers.
Here, it was almost as if the walls could talk. Tapestries of battles long past hung between arched windows, and dragons of every size and shape were carved into the doorframes. His boots echoed against the polished black stone as he moved down the corridor, his heart pounding harder with each step.
Finally, he reached the ornate double doors. He hesitated, his hand hovering, before knocking firmly.
Silence stretched—then the door creaked open. His father stood there, tall and stern, his once-dark hair now silvered at the temples, his brilliant blue eyes sharp and unreadable.
He already knows of Phoenix’s arrival.
He could see it in his father’s eyes as they stared at each other for a long moment—king to king, father to son—before his mother’s voice floated from within.
“Drago. Come in.”
Drago exhaled slowly and stepped inside.
The chamber was bathed in golden light from the massive balcony where his mother stood, her long silver-white hair braided down her back. The room smelled faintly of wildflowers and dragon fire. The scorch marks on the dining room table indicated his father had been playing again with some of his new inventions.
Mom’s going to love that, he wryly thought.
Rich tapestries lined the walls, and the floor was covered in rugs woven with celestial scenes. His mother turned, her expression serene but her eyes bright with knowing and a hint of amusement when she looked at the table and shook her head. She held her hands out to him, and he moved forward to grasp them. Never again would he take for granted seeing or touching his parents. Not after the aching loss and silence he had endured after Magna had turned all the dragons to stone, including them.
“Is it true?” she asked softly. “A Guardian Protector has appeared.”
Drago swallowed hard, the weight of destiny pressing on him as he nodded once.
“Yes. I think so. She is… just a girl.”
Drago swallowed hard. He had fought wars, faced enemies from beyond the stars—but the thought of guiding a girl barely older than his own children into the jaws of destiny made his heart ache.
“This is a sign from the Goddess. The universe will need her, and we must help guide her,” she said, reaching up to caress the worry lines near his eyes. “You don’t need to worry. All will be well.”
Chapter Eight
Valyndra sighed when Drago pulled away from her and began pacing. The tension radiated off him like waves of heat. Her gaze softened at the worried expression on his face. He was so much like his father—proud, strong, always carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
