Page 23 of Sereis
His hand came up to hold my chin, forcing me to meet those impossible silver-white eyes. "You will follow three rules. They are absolute, not suggestions. Not requests. Commands that your transformed body will obey whether your mind agrees or not."
My pulse jumped—apparently I still had one of those—but not entirely from fear.
"First," he continued, his grip firm but not painful, "you are not to leave these chambers without my escort. The Frost Veil contains dangers your new body cannot yet navigate alone."
I wanted to protest that I'd survived the transformation, that I was stronger now, but his thumb pressed against my lips before I could speak.
"Second, my commands must be obeyed instantly. Hesitation could mean the difference between safety and catastrophe. Your mind may question, but your body must act."
The bond pulsed between us, reinforcing his words with magical weight that settled into my bones.
"Third," his voice dropped lower, more dangerous, "you are forbidden from the lower levels. Specifically the Deep Ice Gardens, where wild magic grows uncontrolled. The magic there doesn't recognize ownership or bonds. It consumes."
He released my chin but maintained eye contact, waiting. I knew what he wanted—not just agreement but submission, acknowledgment of his authority over my safety, my choices, my existence in this realm.
"Yes, Daddy," I whispered, the words coming easier now, flowing from that place in my chest that recognized him as protector, provider, the axis around which my new existence would spin.
"Good girl," he murmured, and pulled me closer against his chest. "Such a good girl for me."
Theafternoonlightthroughthe observation window had shifted to that particular shade of grey that meant snow was coming—I knew this instinctively now, the way I knew my own heartbeat—when Sereis returned to the Nursery Nook. He moved differently than he had this morning, each step calculated but tight, like a predator who'd scented danger but couldn't locate its source.
I'd been examining the bookshelf, watching how the spines rearranged themselves based on my thoughts—think of dragons and suddenly all the titles shifted to histories and anatomies, think of warmth and they became collections of Southern fire-land poetry. But the moment he entered, the books froze mid-shuffle, responding to the tension he carried like winter wind.
"The Dragon Council has made their position clear," he said without preamble, moving to stand by the window. The grey light made his white hair look silver, aging him somehow, though I knew age meant nothing to beings like him. "They acknowledge our bond's activation. The transformation is undeniable—you carry my magic in your bones now, visible to any with eyes to see it."
"But?" I could feel it coming.
"But Caelus's prior claim remains legally active until the Caretaker Pact is sealed." His hands clasped behind his back, knuckles white with pressure. "Three centuries ago, there was a precedent. A fire drake—not a Lord—in the Eastern Reaches transformed a human who'd been claimed by another, thinking the transformation would void the prior ownership. The Council ruled that without the Pact's completion, the original claim held priority."
"What happened to them?"
"The human was returned to their original master." His voice went flat, emotionless in that way that meant too much emotion. "The transformation was reversed through . . . traumatic means. They survived perhaps a day as a human again before their body simply forgot how to maintain itself."
My hand went to my throat, to the frost patterns I could feel pulsing beneath the skin. The thought of them being torn away, of becoming human again after tasting this power, made something in my chest seize with panic.
"That won't happen to you," Sereis said quickly, turning from the window. In two strides he was before me, hands on my shoulders, thumbs pressing against the bond marks. "I would freeze the entire realm before allowing it."
"You can't fight the Dragon Council." It wasn't a question. I'd learned enough about dragon politics to know that evensomeone as powerful as Sereis couldn't stand against their combined might.
"No," he agreed. "But I don't need to fight them. I need to prove that my innocence—no more. When that is established, all claims will dissolve."
“How will you do that?”
He stopped pacing abruptly, something shifting in his expression—calculation replacing frustration. "There is an opportunity."
I waited, recognizing the tone of someone who'd found an angle others had missed.
"A caravan of Zarathos traders is approaching the Northern Range," he continued, and my blood—did I still have blood?—went cold for reasons that had nothing to do with temperature. "They'll arrive in three days."
Zarathos. The word echoed in my memory, bringing back flashes of that awful feast. The brutalized servant boy with the distinctive scarring. Caelus's laughter. The way he'd boasted about acquiring 'products' from the wild territory.
"They are notorious for dealing in specialized magical components," Sereis explained, his focus turning inward as he planned. "Their ice-forging techniques are particularly sophisticated. They've developed methods to mimic dragon magic signatures, to create weapons that carry traces of power they shouldn't possess."
The ice blade that had been found in Kara's chambers. The one that supposedly carried Sereis's magical signature. Understanding clicked into place like dimensional walls aligning.
"You think they forged the evidence against you." I kept my voice steady, though inside my thoughts raced. If these traders were the same ones who'd provided Caelus with servants, who facilitated the kind of cruelty I'd witnessed at that feast . . .
"I'm certain of it." He moved to an ice shelf I hadn't noticed before, pulling out what looked like crystallized maps. "The magical signature on that blade was too perfect, too pure. Real dragon magic is messy, complicated, full of personal resonance. The blade's signature was like... a forgery of my magical handwriting. Technically accurate but lacking the natural variations that come from actual casting."
