The aftermath had passed.
Arion held Evangeline close, his arms a shield against the night's cold. Her body was a heavy, limp weight against his, exhausted from the ordeal and the immense amount of magic she had used. The fear in his heart was a raw, aching wound. He had almost lost her. He mounted his horse, with Evangeline cradled in his arms, and turned back toward his castle, leaving the shadows and the pain behind.
The journey back was a blur of silence and urgency. Arion rode with a furious, single-minded determination, his face a grim mask of resolve. He didn't speak. He simply held her close, his warmth a comfort against the cold night air. He was a man who had been given a second chance, and he would not fail.
When they arrived at the castle, the courtyard was a whirlwind of activity. Servants and guards, their faces etched with worry, rushed to greet them.
The Dragon King and Queen, who had been waiting anxiously, ran to their son. But Arion didn't stop. He simply looked at them, his eyes filled with a desperate plea for them to help.
The court physician, a wise old dragon with eyes that held a deep, ancient knowledge, was immediately summoned. He took Evangeline from Arion's arms and carried her to a private, silent chamber. He ordered that no one be allowed inside, not even the princes, for fear of disturbing the healing process.
Arion stood outside the door, his heart a frantic, panicked drum. He had faced dragons, fought monsters, and survived wars, but this… this was a different kind of terror. He was powerless. He was a man who had lost his voice, his strength, and his courage.
He looked down at his hands, which were still trembling with a cold, impotent fury. He had failed her. He had promised to protect her, but he had failed. He was a man who had been given a second chance, but he had almost lost it. He was a man who had to wait, and for a dragon prince, there was no greater torture.