The next few days at the palace were filled with activity.
First, Delvin's belongings were moved from his old chambers to the royal suite reserved for the king.
Second, Dolores ordered her chambers redesigned in a mother-and-child style, complete with adjoining rooms and a private nursery wing.
Finally, Sheila was moved into a servant's room adjacent to Delvin's chambers.
For nearly two weeks, the castle was in constant upheaval.
Afterward, life settled into a routine.
Day after day, Delvin attended endless meetings. When he wasn't presiding over court matters, he disappeared for hours at a time, only returning at dinner covered in dirt, drenched from rain, or nursing fresh injuries.
One evening, Sheila sat on the balcony outside Delvin's chambers.
The gardens stretched below her in a sea of flowers, and the cool wind played with her hair.
As she enjoyed the peaceful view, she spotted Delvin making his way toward the palace.
Something was wrong.
Several guards rushed to meet him and practically carried him inside.
Concerned, Sheila followed.
The guards laid him on the bed before quickly departing.
A maid brought a bowl of water and several clean cloths before leaving as well.
Sheila sat beside him and carefully cleaned his wounds.
When she removed his sword belt, she paused.
The blade was spotless.
She frowned.
"Did you get attacked by a human or an animal?" she wondered aloud.
His wounds were strange.
Deep claw marks crossed his chest and shoulders, while several puncture wounds looked as though they had been made by enormous fangs.
Yet there wasn't a drop of blood on his sword.
Had he even fought back?
She rinsed the cloth and continued cleaning his injuries.
"Well, I can't leave you like this."
Eventually, she settled into a chair beside the bed.
She watched his breathing rise and fall.
Somewhere along the way, she fell asleep.
"Sleeping on duty?"
Sheila slowly opened her eyes.
Delvin stood before a mirror, attempting to comb his hair.
She immediately winced.
He was attacking the knots rather than untangling them.
She walked over and took the comb from his hand.
"At this rate, you'll lose half your hair."
Delvin raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
She carefully worked through the tangled mess.
Unfortunately, after whatever battle he had fought, his hair resembled a bird's nest more than anything else.
"Would you mind if I washed it?" she asked.
Without protest, Delvin walked into the bathing chamber.
He rested his head against the edge of the tub while Sheila soaked his hair.
The water immediately turned red.
She had to change it twice before she could properly wash it.
When she finally finished, she realized she had absolutely no idea how to style a man's hair.
Delvin sighed.
With a few quick movements, he gathered it into a simple ponytail.
"First, I'm a man, not your baby sister. Second, simple is perfectly acceptable. Third..."
He pointed toward a chair.
"Your turn."
"Your Majesty, I couldn't."
"I insist."
Before she could protest further, he pulled her into the seat.
Positioning her in front of the mirror, he began combing her hair.
To her surprise, he was surprisingly gentle.
He worked scented oils through her hair and carefully massaged them into her scalp.
"What does my schedule look like today?" he asked as he clipped a section into place.
"Nothing official," Sheila replied. "A fencing session this morning, followed by a ride through the western villages."
She caught sight of a beautiful hairpin in the mirror.
Rubies and emeralds had been arranged into the shape of a blooming rose.
She reached up to remove it.
Delvin caught her wrist.
"You aren't planning to reject a gift from your emperor, are you?"
She immediately lowered her hand.
"No, Your Majesty."
Delvin studied her reflection.
She met his gaze directly.
Neither looked away.
After a long moment, he chuckled.
"That's funny."
"What is?"
"No one ever looks me in the eye."
Sheila suddenly realized what she was doing and opened her mouth to apologize.
Delvin shook his head.
"I like the boldness."
He stood.
"Just not in public, alright?"
A small smile crossed his face before he headed for the door.
She hurried after him.
The pair arrived in the courtyard.
Dolores and Stel were seated beneath a canopy, watching a group of dancers perform.
Delvin sat beside his sister.
"Good morning, Sister."
"Good morning, Your Majesty," Dolores replied without looking away from the performance.
Sheila drifted toward Stel.
Dolores noticed immediately.
"How exactly are the two of you related?" she asked. "I know you share a father, but what about your mother?"
"We share the same mother, Your Highness," Sheila replied with a slight bow.
Dolores nodded.
"Go on, then. Speak with your sister. I can't exactly forbid it."
Sheila immediately knelt beside Stel.
The younger girl beamed.
"Oh, Sister! These last few weeks have been amazing!"
She launched into an excited explanation.
"I have my own room. And another room just for clothes! I eat at the princess's table every day and..."
She paused only long enough to hug Sheila.
"It's wonderful."
She pulled back and looked her sister over carefully.
"I'm glad you're alright."
Then she frowned.
"The mean man didn't hurt you, did he?"
The courtyard fell silent.
Delvin slowly turned his head.
"The mean man?" he asked.
Stel shrugged.
"What else am I supposed to call the man who beheaded our father in front of us?"
The words struck like an arrow.
Delvin visibly recoiled.
The life seemed to drain from his expression.
Even the dancers stopped moving.
Dolores sighed heavily and shot Stel a disappointed look.
The young girl immediately realized her mistake.
Delvin stood.
Without a word, he walked away.
Sheila hurried after him.
Around them, servants dropped to their knees while performers bowed deeply.
Dolores rose and quietly left as well.
The cheerful atmosphere had vanished.
Delvin entered the Black Temple.
He stopped before a massive curtain that concealed the inner sanctuary.
Sheila finally caught up with him, struggling to catch her breath.
"You cannot follow me beyond this point," he said.
Then he disappeared behind the curtain.
Sheila stared after him.
After all that running?
She sat down heavily on the floor.
A few moments later, a scream echoed from beyond the curtain.
She immediately jumped to her feet.
"Your Majesty!"
No response.
Only a low groan.
Her heart began racing.
What was happening in there?
She reached for the curtain.
No.
He told me not to follow.
But what if he's hurt?
What if he needs help?
Slowly, she pulled the curtain aside.
Then she stepped through.
The chamber beyond was filled with hanging veils and drifting incense.
At first, she couldn't see clearly.
Then she spotted Delvin.
He was pinned against the wall.
A gigantic claw held him in place.
One of the talons slowly pressed into an old wound in his side.
Delvin gritted his teeth.
A muffled groan escaped him.
Sheila looked upward.
Her blood ran cold.
Tan'y'ju.
The dragon was enormous.
Far larger than when she had seen him before.
His black scales gleamed like polished obsidian.
His golden eyes glowed in the darkness.
With a casual flick of his paw, he hurled Delvin across the chamber.
The king crashed into a stone pillar.
The dragon advanced.
One claw rose.
Ready to strike.
Without thinking, Sheila ran forward.
She planted herself between them.
The dragon froze.
Delvin froze.
Even the room itself seemed to fall silent.
A faint glow appeared at the base of Sheila's neck.
The mark.
It pulsed softly beneath her skin.
Delvin slowly climbed to his feet.
"How did you get that?" he asked, staring at her neck.
"What?"
Confused, Sheila reached for the spot.
Delvin stepped closer and attempted to touch the mark.
A massive tail lashed out.
He was knocked backward.
The dragon lowered his head protectively over Sheila.
"Do not touch her."
His voice rumbled like distant thunder.
"She is mine."
Sheila's eyes widened.
"What?"
The mark on her neck blazed brighter.
And the dragon smiled.