Theodore stormed out of the council chamber, his boots striking the stone floor like iron mallets. Isabella stood trembling in the corridor, her arms wrapped protectively around the small wolf-cub—Lucian in disguise—her cheeks streaked with drying tears. His eyes, dark as a thunderstorm, found her instantly. Without a word, he scooped her up in a brutal bridal carry, the motion more command than comfort. The heavy oak doors groaned shut behind them.
He carried her through a long passageway, up into the dim-lit chambers of his wing. Setting her on the bed with little gentleness, Theodore tugged the blanket over her slight frame as though he were trapping her in place rather than tucking her in. Lucian whimpered in her arms, licking the salt of her tears—only to find himself snatched away in Theodore's massive hand.
With a wry curl of his lips, Theodore muttered, "Sleep in your own den, you little parasite." And with a swift, almost comical brutality, he shoved Lucian straight out the window. A small yelp echoed down into the courtyard before Theodore, satisfied, slammed the shutters closed.
"Now," he growled, stretching himself across the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress beside Isabella. "You will rest here—and nowhere else."
But Isabella, wide-eyed, turned her head toward him, her voice small yet trembling with urgency.
"Theodore… what are Dragonriders? Am I truly half wolf, half witch? Why… why did my mother abandon me? Tell me. Please."
Her questions spilled like wounded arrows, one after another, lodging into the silence of the room. Theodore froze. His chest rose and fell heavily, but his tongue refused to form answers. His jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the shadows flickering across the ceiling.
Finally, his voice emerged, low and ragged, touched with a rare helplessness.
"The answers you seek…" His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the blanket. "…are the very answers I hunt as well. I do not know why fate marked you as it did, Isabella. I do not know why the blood in your veins burns with both moon and sorcery. All I know is that I will find the truth—even if it is carved in fire and shadow."
He turned onto his side, back facing her now, shoulders rigid. "Until then… silence. Sleep."
And in that silence, broken only by the distant whimper of Lucian below and Isabella's quiet, stifled sobs, the room itself seemed to pulse with unspoken dread.