Isadora's POV
I dangled from the rope three stories above the courtyard, watching golden light explode from the East Tower window.
"What in the gods' names—" one of the Lowtown fighters breathed.
The light pulsed. Once. Twice. Then died.
Silence.
"We have to go back," I said.
"Are you insane?" The fighter—a girl named Sera—tightened her grip on me. "Whatever that was could've killed him."
"Or saved him." I twisted, trying to see through the window. "Let me go. I have to—"
"Lady Thorne, we have orders. Get you to safety."
"I don't care about—"
A scream cut through the night. Male. Terrified.
Then another. And another.
"Pull up!" I shouted. "Now!"
We scrambled up the rope. I swung through the window, heart hammering.
The cell was a disaster. Guards scattered across the floor, unconscious or groaning. Scorch marks on the walls. The smell of burned metal.
And in the center, Marcus stood alone.
His hands still glowed faintly. His eyes—no longer silver-blue. Golden. Like melted coins.
"Marcus?" I approached carefully, like he was a spooked animal.
He blinked. The gold faded. His regular eyes returned.
"What... what just happened?" His voice shook.
Lord Greymont cowered in the corner, face white. "Sorcery. Dark magic. He's possessed—"
"Shut up." I kicked his sword away. "Sera, tie him up. The others too."
The Lowtown fighters moved quickly, binding the guards.
I grabbed Marcus's arm. His skin felt hot. Feverish.
"Are you hurt?"
"No. I don't think so." He stared at his hands. "There was this voice. Ancient. Talking about dragons and bloodlines and—" He looked at me, lost. "Isadora, what am I?"
"I don't know." But my mind raced. Dragons. The old stories. Legends from before the kingdom, when magic ran wild and humans bonded with dragons.
Dragon tamers. Extinct for two hundred years.
Unless...
"We need to leave," Sera interrupted. "More guards will come."
She was right. The commotion would bring reinforcements.
"Can you walk?" I asked Marcus.
"Yeah. I think so."
We moved fast. Down the servant stairs. Through hidden passages. Sera led—she knew these corridors better than palace guards.
Behind us, alarm bells started ringing.
"They know we're gone," Sera muttered. "Move faster."
We burst into the laundry room. Empty at this hour. Sera pushed aside a massive pile of sheets, revealing a trapdoor.
"Down. Quick."
We climbed into darkness. The tunnel smelled like sewage and rot. I'd used it once before, years ago, when escaping Covenant assassins.
Marcus stumbled. I caught him.
"You okay?"
"Just tired. Whatever that light was, it drained me."
We kept moving. The tunnel stretched forever, sloping downward. Finally, we emerged in Lowtown—a hidden exit behind an abandoned warehouse.
Sera whistled. Three more fighters appeared from shadows.
"Safe house is two streets over," she said. "We should—"
"No." I cut her off. "They'll search Lowtown first. We need somewhere unexpected."
"Where?"
I thought fast. "The Thornwood Estate. My family's old home."
"That's been abandoned for six years. It's probably crawling with—"
"With memories and ghosts. I know." I met her eyes. "But the Covenant thinks I'm too scared to go back there. That's why it's perfect."
Sera didn't look convinced, but she nodded. "Your call, Lady Thorne."
We moved through Lowtown's twisted streets. Even at night, people stirred—drunks, beggars, criminals. They watched us pass but didn't interfere.
Marcus stumbled again. This time he nearly fell.
"I got you." I wrapped his arm over my shoulder, supporting his weight.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "Not usually this weak."
"You just... whatever you did back there, it was powerful. Your body needs rest."
"Can't rest. Greymont saw. He'll tell everyone. They'll say I'm dangerous. A monster."
"You saved my life."
"By turning into something inhuman." He laughed bitterly. "Great. Go from mob boss to prince to... what? Magic freak show?"
"You're not a freak."
"How do you know?"
I didn't answer. Because I didn't know. None of this made sense.
We reached the Thornwood Estate. Six years of neglect showed—cracked windows, overgrown gardens, gates hanging crooked.
Home.
My throat tightened. Last time I walked through these gates, both parents were alive. Now...
"Isadora?" Marcus touched my shoulder. "You okay?"
"Fine. Just memories." I pushed the gate open. It creaked like a scream.
Inside, dust covered everything. Furniture draped in white sheets. Paintings of my ancestors watching with dead eyes.
"Upstairs," I said. "There's a room with a hidden entrance. We'll be safe there."
We climbed the stairs. Each step brought back memories—running down these halls as a child, my mother calling me for dinner, my father teaching me chess in the library.
All gone now.
The hidden room was behind a bookshelf in my old bedroom. I pulled the right book, and the shelf swung open.
A small space. Bed, desk, lantern. I'd used it for reading when I wanted privacy.
Marcus collapsed on the bed. "This is nice."
"It's dusty and small."
"It's not a prison cell. That makes it nice." He closed his eyes. "Give me five minutes. Then we'll plan our next move."
"Take longer. You need—"
He was already asleep.
I sat at the desk, watching him. In sleep, he looked young. Vulnerable. Not like a mob boss or a prince or whatever he was becoming.
Just a man who was exhausted.
I pulled out my notebook—the one with all my Covenant research. Six years of work. Names, connections, suspicions.
And now, a new question: What was that golden light?
I sketched what I remembered. The glow. The way it threw guards across the room. The voice Marcus mentioned.
Dragon tamer bloodline.
But Aurelius wasn't a dragon tamer. His family had no magical blood. They were pure human, going back generations.
Unless the swap wasn't random.
My hand froze.
What if Queen Isolde—Aurelius's mother—chose specifically? What if she knew about dragon tamer blood and swapped her real baby for one who carried it?
What if Aurelius was never supposed to be just a spare prince?
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. A hidden bloodline. A prince with secret power. The Covenant would've killed him the moment they found out.
So they tried. Pushed him from a balcony.
But the ritual worked. Marcus came. And the dragon tamer magic recognized him—two souls willing to sacrifice for others.
Rare. Worthy.
That's what the voice said.
A floorboard creaked behind me.
I spun, dagger out.
A figure stood in the doorway. Not Marcus—he was still sleeping.
Dante.
"Easy," he whispered, hands raised. "It's me."
"How did you find us?"
"Followed at a distance. Made sure nobody tailed you." He glanced at sleeping Marcus. "Is he okay?"
"Tired. The magic drained him." I lowered my dagger slightly. "What happened after we left?"
"Chaos. Greymont's screaming about sorcery. The King demanded answers. Half the Council thinks Aurelius is possessed. The other half thinks it's a trick."
"And what do you think?"
Dante looked at Marcus for a long moment. "I think he's exactly what this kingdom needs. Someone powerful enough to fight back."
"Even if that power isn't human?"
"Especially then." He met my eyes. "The Covenant has controlled us for generations because nobody had the strength to resist. Maybe it takes a monster to beat monsters."
"He's not a monster."
"I know. But they'll call him one anyway." Dante moved toward the door. "I should go. Being seen here would raise questions. But Lady Thorne... be careful. The Covenant doesn't just kill threats. They destroy everything the threat loves first."
He disappeared before I could respond.
I sat in the dark, his words echoing.
Everything the threat loves.
My family. Already destroyed.
But Marcus had people too, even if he didn't realize it yet. Dante. The Lowtown fighters. Me.
We were all targets now.
A sound made me turn. Marcus, sitting up, eyes open.
"How long was I out?"
"Twenty minutes."
He rubbed his face. "Felt like twenty seconds." He noticed my expression. "What's wrong?"
"Dante was here. The Covenant knows about the magic. They're calling you possessed."
"Of course they are." He stood, surprisingly steady now. "Did he say anything else?"
I hesitated. "That they'll destroy everything you care about."
"Good thing I don't care about much."
"Marcus—"
"I mean it. In Chicago, I learned not to care. Keeps you alive longer."
"You came back for me. In the tower. That wasn't not caring."
He looked away. "That was stupid. Tactical mistake. Should've escaped when I had the chance."
"But you didn't."
"Yeah, well." He moved to the window, staring out at Lowtown's lights. "Maybe Aurelius's memories are making me soft."
I joined him at the window. Our shoulders touched.
"For what it's worth," I said quietly, "I'm glad you came back. Even if it was stupid."
He smiled. Barely. "You're welcome."
We stood there in comfortable silence.
Then Marcus tensed. "Isadora. Those lights in Lowtown. They're moving."
I looked closer. He was right. Torches. Dozens of them. Moving in formation.
Toward the Thornwood Estate.
"They found us," I breathed.
"How? We were careful—"
An arrow shattered the window. We dove aside as glass exploded inward.
A note wrapped around the arrow. I grabbed it.
Elegant handwriting: "Did you think we didn't know about your childhood hiding place, dear Isadora? The Covenant knows all. Surrender the possessed prince, or we burn Lowtown to the ground. You have one hour. —Evangeline"
I crushed the note. "That witch."
"She's bluffing."
"No." I met his eyes, heart breaking. "She's not. The Covenant burned my father. They'll burn thousands if it means keeping power."
"So what do we do?"
Outside, the torches surrounded the estate. At least fifty guards. Maybe more.
Trapped. Outmanned. Exhausted.
And in one hour, innocent people would die if we didn't surrender.
"I don't know," I whispered.
Then Marcus's hands started glowing again.