It was definitely the same silver moon-shaped pendant, elegant and delicate, with tiny crystal dots embedded at its center that glimmered under the dim light like stars trapped in metal.
The one she had wanted that day.
The one Dylan had refused to buy for her.
Yet now… it was here.
Her brows slowly furrowed as her eyes remained fixed on it, disbelief flickering across her face.
He bought it?
If he had refused back then, then why does he have it?
Who was he planning to give it to?
Clover's fingers twitched at her side.
She found herself staring at the pendant longer than she should have, her thoughts racing in circles.
"What are you even thinking about Clover" she asked herself with a tight chest.
Definitely he got it for his lover.
It's none of your business Clover, so relax. She told herself keeping back the pendent in it's position.
Slowly, she turned away and left the room, but the thought of that silver pendant followed her all the way back.
By the time Clover returned to her room, evening had already settled over the palace.
The fading light outside had darkened into the quiet shadows of early night, and the room was bathed in the warm flicker of candlelight.
She had barely taken a seat when a knock sounded on the door.
"Come in," she called.
The door opened, and a maid stepped inside carrying a dress draped over her arms.
It was red.
Not a loud red, but a deep, rich shade that looked both elegant and dangerous at the same time.
"The king requests that you wear this," the maid said politely.
Clover stood, her gaze moving from the dress to the maid.
The woman's face remained calm, but there was something cold in her eyes. Something sharp. Something that made it obvious enough.
that she doesn't like her.
But at the moment she cared less about people's opinion about her.
Clover took the dress anyway.
"Thank you."
The maid gave a stiff nod.
Then she left.
Clover watched the door close.
She let out a small breath and changed into the dress.
The fabric was soft against her skin, hugging her waist before flowing gracefully down her legs. When she looked at herself in the mirror, even she had to pause for a second.
The red made her look… different.
Softer.
More striking.
Almost dangerous.
She was still staring at her reflection when the door opened again.
Clover turned.
Dylan stepped inside.
And stopped.
For a moment, he said nothing.
He simply looked at her.
Clover suddenly became too aware of the way his eyes lingered on her, too aware of the silence, too aware of how the air in the room had somehow changed.
Then he crossed the space between them.
Without a word, he reached for the ribbon holding her hair in place and pulled it free.
Clover's breath hitched as her hair spilled down around her shoulders.
She looked up at him, startled.
"What are you doing?"
"This suits you better," Dylan said calmly.
Her cheeks warmed instantly.
Before she could say anything else, he stepped back.
"Come."
Clover blinked. "Where are we going?"
"You ask too many questions."
"That's because you never answer them."
For the briefest second, the corner of his lips twitched.
"You'll know when we arrive."
And just like that, he turned and walked out.
Clover stared after him, then hurried after him, trying very hard to ignore the strange way her heart had started beating.
The city was alive that night.
Lanterns hung across the streets, glowing warmly against the darkness, their golden light swaying with the breeze. Music drifted through the air, mixed with laughter, cheers, and the restless movement of a crowd gathered for something important.
Clover walked beside Dylan, her eyes taking in everything.
People stepped aside the moment they saw him.
Some bowed their heads.
Others watched him with reverence, curiosity, and caution.
No one approached.
Then they reached the center of the gathering.
And Clover froze.
A large circular space had been cleared in the middle of the street. Strange crimson markings glowed faintly across the ground, forming a ritual circle that looked almost like blood had been painted into the stone.
Inside it stood a man and a woman.
The woman wore very little, her body adorned in shimmering ceremonial fabric that barely covered her curves, while the man stood bare-chested, his powerful form marked with symbols that glowed faintly under the lantern light.
Clover's eyes widened.
"What is this?" she asked quietly.
Before Dylan answered, the music changed.
A slow, deep rhythm filled the air.
And then the two inside the circle began to move.
At first, Clover thought it was simply a dance.
A ritual dance, perhaps.
But then the woman pressed closer to the man.
His hands slid along her waist.
Her body arched against his.
Their movements grew slower. More deliberate. More intimate.
Clover's breath caught.
She stared.
Then blinked.
Then stared again.
"This…" she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away. "What are they doing?"
Dylan stood beside her, his expression calm, almost unreadable.
"It is a mating ceremony."
Clover turned to him sharply.
"A what?"
"When dragons find the one they are bound to," Dylan said, his voice low and steady, "they undergo the ritual of mating bond."
Clover frowned.
"Mating?"
His gaze remained on the couple.
"It is more than a mating ceremony. It is the recognition of bond. Desire. Possession. Surrender. The moment both souls accept that they can no longer exist apart from each other."
Clover's mouth parted slightly.
Her eyes drifted back to the couple.
The woman wrapped her arms around the man's neck, moving against him in a way that made Clover's entire face heat up. The crowd cheered as the man lifted her effortlessly, her legs winding around him while their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling.
Clover nearly choked.
"In public?" she whispered in disbelief.
Dylan glanced at her, and there was the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes.
"It is sacred to our kind."
Clover looked at him like he had lost his mind.
"This is sacred?"
The man inside the circle lowered the woman onto a raised stone platform at the center, and the way she moved over him made Clover's eyes widen so much they almost hurt.
"Oh my God…"
She turned away quickly, only to look back again a second later despite herself.
The entire thing was too intimate.
Too open.
Too intense.
And yet—
There was something about it that made her unable to fully look away.
It wasn't vulgar.
It wasn't careless.
Every touch between them felt meaningful. Every movement felt like a promise being spoken without words. The way they looked at each other… it was as if the entire world had disappeared and only the two of them remained.
Clover's throat went dry.
"They're not just dancing," she said softly, almost to herself.
"No," Dylan replied. "They are yielding to dependence."
Her brows slowly pulled together.
The realization settled in.
This was not merely a display.
Not just dragons celebrating mates.
This was the visible beginning of a deeper bond.
A bond that tied one being to another so completely that separation itself would become unbearable.
Clover stared at the couple again, her chest tightening.
"So… once this happens…"
"They become dependent," Dylan finished. "Mind. Body. Instinct. Their bond will demand completion."
Clover's face turned red all over again.
"Your people are insane."
A quiet sound escaped Dylan.
A low chuckle.
Clover snapped her head toward him.
"Did you just laugh?"
"No."
"You did!"
"I didn't."
"You absolutely did."
He ignored her and kept his gaze ahead.
Clover narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could continue, the crowd around them suddenly erupted into louder cheers.
She turned back.
The woman inside the circle was now fully draped over her bonded partner, their bodies moving together with an intimacy so openly displayed that Clover almost covered her eyes.
"Do they really have to continue in front of everyone?"
"They are almost done."
"Almost done?" Clover repeated, scandalized. "There's more?"
Dylan's expression remained infuriatingly calm.
Then, just as Clover thought she might combust from secondhand embarrassment, the couple vanished.
One moment they were there.
The next, they were gone.
Clover blinked in confusion.
"What?"
She looked around the circle, then at Dylan.
"Where did they go?"
"To complete the dependence."
The words were so matter-of-fact that Clover nearly stopped breathing.
Her entire body stiffened.
Slowly, very slowly, she turned to stare at him.
He was serious.
Completely serious.
Her face burned.
"You brought me here to watch that?"
Dylan finally looked at her fully.
"I brought you here because you know nothing about our world. If you are to remain here, then you need to understand it."
Clover opened her mouth.
Then closed it again.
Because annoyingly enough… that made sense.
Still.
He could have warned her.
She folded her arms and glared at him.
"You could have at least told me before dragging me here."
"If I had told you, you would have refused to come."
She hated how correct that sounded.
After the ritual ended, the streets gradually returned to their usual lively rhythm.
The loudest part of the ceremony was over, but the atmosphere still carried traces of that heavy energy.
Clover and Dylan walked through the quieter side of the city, away from the center of the crowd.
For a while, neither of them said much.
Clover's mind was still tangled in the pendent she saw in the antique.
"Should she ask him or not "she thought.
Her eyes drifted sideways to him.
He walked with his usual calm, unreadable expression, hands in his pockets, as though he hadn't just casually exposed her to one of the most scandalously intimate things she had ever seen in her life.
"How are you so calm?" she asked suddenly.
He glanced at her. "About what?"
She stopped walking.
"About what?" she repeated in disbelief. "Did we not just witness what we witnessed?"
Dylan looked at her for a moment, then continued walking.
"It is normal."
"For you people," she muttered.
A beat of silence passed.
Then Clover noticed a group of men standing near one of the open market stalls, their upper bodies bare, their dragon markings faintly visible under the moonlight.
She blinked.
Her gaze lingered for a second too long.
Dylan noticed.
"Interesting."
Clover immediately snapped her head toward him. "What?"
"You seem very observant tonight."
"I was not looking!"
"Mm."
"That sound was very judgmental."
"It was accurate."
Clover glared at him.
Dylan kept walking.
And though his face remained composed, Clover could have sworn there was amusement in the set of his mouth.
She huffed and looked away, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
But deep inside, that tiny exchange left her chest feeling strangely light.
By the time they returned to the palace, the night had deepened.
The quiet of the corridors settled around them as they stopped outside Clover's room.
"You should sleep," Dylan said.
Clover looked up at him.
"And you?"
"I have matters to attend to."
Something inside her dimmed, just slightly.
It was subtle.
So subtle she almost missed it herself.
But it was there.
"Oh," she said.
Dylan's gaze lingered on her face, as if he noticed the shift in her expression.
Then, without another word, he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers.
A thick, dark book appeared on the table beside her bed.
"It was_"
"The Book of Evil".
Clover stared at him.
Then at the book.
Then back at him again.
"Go through it, you should focus on recovery your powers." Dylan said before turning toward the door.
"Dylan—"
"If you are going to survive here, Clover, you need your powers."
Then he left.
Just like that.
The door shut behind him.
Clover stood there for a moment in utter disbelief.
Then she slowly walked towards the table and grabbed the book.
Seating down on the bed, she slowly opened it.
Outside, the palace was quiet.
Inside the room, the candle flames flickered.
And inside her mind, too many things refused to settle.
The following morning passed in suffocating boredom.
A maid brought her breakfast.
Clover ate in silence, then spent most of the day with the Book of Evil open on her lap, trying to make sense of everything written inside it.
It spoke of dark power.
Forbidden knowledge.
Ancient bloodlines.
Creatures she had never heard of.
And the deeper she read, the more questions she had.
But no matter how hard she tried to focus, her thoughts kept drifting.
To the pendant.
To Dylan.
He never came.
Not once.
By the time night fell again, Clover was already irritated with herself for thinking about him so much.
Then the door opened.
She looked up immediately.
Dylan.
He stepped inside with the same calm expression as always, as if he hadn't disappeared for an entire day without explanation.
In his hand was another dress.
This one was silver.
Not plain silver, but a shimmering moonlit shade that caught the candlelight and reflected it like liquid metal.
Clover's breath caught.
"Change," he said.
That was all.
She walked into the bathroom and changed.
When they arrived, Clover instantly understood that this was no ordinary gathering.
It was a grand ball.
The massive hall blazed with light from crystal chandeliers overhead, casting gold across polished floors and elegantly dressed guests. Music floated through the air, soft and refined, while nobles, royals, and powerful figures filled the room in luxurious attire.
Everyone was with someone.
Partners.
Companions.
Couples.
And the moment Dylan stepped inside with Clover beside him, the entire hall changed.
Conversations faltered.
Heads turned.
Eyes widened.
The attention hit her like a wave.
Every gaze in the room landed on her.
No—on them.
Who is she?
Why is she with him?
Since when does Lord Dylan fancy women?
The silent questions pressed in from every direction.
Clover resisted the urge to shrink beneath it.
Across the room, two women had already noticed.
Ashley was the first.
Her eyes narrowed as she looked toward the entrance.
She leaned closer to the woman beside her.
"Kate," she whispered. "Isn't that Lord Dylan?"
Kate looked up casually—
Then froze.
The moment her eyes landed on him, her expression changed.
And the moment she saw the woman standing beside him—
Her face darkened.