Ferro was the first person she saw the next morning when she stepped out of her room. He was in the hall, talking to another person. The conversation looked serious, so Rebecca hedged off interrupting.

She was aware of the fact that she looked half dead, the bags under her eyes severe. As usual, someone had tried to force her into letting them style her hair and help her get dressed. And, as she always did, Rebecca refused, simply knotting her hair on the top of her hand and grabbing the simplest clothes she could find.

She'd avoided the mirror on purpose. Nevertheless, judging by the fact that others were avoiding eye contact with her more than usual, she knew she had to look worse than she thought.

Then again, barely escaping being eaten by a dragon did that to you.

Hovering awkwardly at her doorway, Rebecca waited for Ferro to finish talking. Finally, he stepped away from the man he was talking to with a nod. He looked around the room, until his gaze finally met hers. She held it, raising an eyebrow—unsure of how else to communicate how urgent it was.

That done, she stepped back into her room, shutting the door. Then she went and sat on the chaise lounge in the corner of her room—which, unbelievably, was essentially in another room of its own.

Ferro came in moments later.

"Are we alone?" she asked. She had a feeling that door had been barred for a reason—and announcing aloud there was a dragon would make the secrecy completely redundant. "Completely alone?"

He nodded. His face was like sculpted marble, as cold as the black, heavy plated uniform he wore.

Only when he sat opposite her did Rebecca actually talk aloud, fighting to keep her voice rational, far from the hysterics raging. "When exactly were you going to tell me there was a dragon in a basement?"

His face went from stone to vicious in a second. "How do you know that?"

She shrunk back, though she was aware he wouldn't go near her. "I went for a walk last night," she admitted, feeling like a toddler being chastised. "I found a door. There was chains across it. I broke through..."

"How did you get through the door?" he asked, sounding like he was holding back wonder. "It's impenetrable."

Nervously laughing, she said, "Clearly not."

He said nothing for a second. Then, "No one can see the door—that's why it's impenetrable."

"What?" If he was right... "But I saw it!"

Sitting forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, dead serious. "You're a direct descendant of the royal lineage—it's your bloodline. That's that reason you saw it. The chains were sworn in by the same blood."

That was too much to handle all at once, so she didn't even begin to try wrapping her head around it. At the moment all she wanted to know was how dragons were in existence. So she said, "Dragons. Why are there dragons? How are there dragons?"

"Dragons have existed for thousands of years," he said, as though it should not have been preposterous. "They are a hidden species, nearly hunted to extinction. Few have survived—and few have been recorded. Nearly a thousand years ago, eggs were gifted to your mother as a sign of peace between kingdoms. Eventually, with the dead of the king, war arose. The eggs were still here however—and have been through that door since."

"So you're tell me that those dragons have been there for thousands of centuries," she whispered.

He nodded.

"They've been down there, hungry for that long—and they didn't eat me?"

Ferro leant back, scrubbing a hand over his face. "What were you trying to achieve?" His voice was thin. "You could have died, Rebecca."

Rebecca burst from her seat, pacing on the floor. "I know. I didn't even know dragons existed—and there I was, about to be lunch. I thought I'd find, I don't know, a safe with money or something behind the door. Not dragons that tried to eat me!"

"Keep your voice down," he hissed. Then his voice gentled. "If anyone else hears of this, there's a chance of rebuke and chaos. We're at war. What's doing in that dungeon could change everything."

Rebecca understood that. She was just felt like she was going insane. "Why is it a secret? You said the eggs were given as a gift."

"The eggs were said to be destroyed before they could hatch. I knew of the truth and so did your parents. The secret will die with me. I took an oath and I refuse to betray it." Leaning forward again, he continued, "Now you know also."

If this was a movie, I'd be an action one. The secret she now knew was substantial—and if she let it slip everything could fall to pieces. She'd discovered it on a fluke, her curiosity the death of her. Ferro—she didn't know how he'd come to know. So she asked him.

He drew in a breath, seeming unsure of how to respond. "It's quite a story."

In other words, it was so long she'd want to sit. Rebecca did so, retreating back to the fabric chaise she'd stood from before. Only this time she was noticeably shakier; she knew Ferro saw it too. "Okay," she said. "I'm sitting."

"As I told you already, I was the sole victor of the Teuri Moro Ceremony. I was young at the time, but I matured quickly. I had to. I was on the front line of defence. I swore my loyalty in front of the whole court, accepted to the marking brand—there was no way I could go against it. Over time I became the Queens most trusted advisor. I was her guard—I was with her at all time. I saw everything, took note of everything she couldn't; I was the eyes and ears of the monarchy."

Rebecca sat quietly, listening. None of it was surprising after having been around him. He was always on edge as if waiting for an imminent attack—even now his eyes kept tracking the room like he was prepared to jump up at any moment if there was a threat.

"It started to create a stir within court. Often, I was in the Queens' chamber. Sometimes the King was present too—but more often than naught, he was out on business. It was the only place where privacy could be guaranteed. We discussed war strategies. The members of her court and who she trusted. Servants began to notice—question what was happening behind the closed door. Rumours began to surface of an affair with the Queen. My name was hidden for a while, but eventually it got out. We were headed towards war; a scandal like that had to be quelled before it spiralled out of control."

Rebecca opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again before she closed it. Finally she got out, "You were sleeping with my mother?"

"No," he said, shaking his vehemently. "The relationship was political."

"But— but, why...?"

"Court is a very mundane place, as you might have noticed. Someone was desperate for a scandal—so they created it using the incentive of how of I was around the Queen." He rubbed a hand on his knee. "Despite the falsity of the claim, I resigned. I stepped away from the position. I still watched from the background. I guarded the Queen for hundreds of years—nothing was able to change in a split second."

He never slept with her mother. She couldn't describe how relieved she was to hear it.

Pushing the sleeve of his shirt up, he pointed to a patch of skin that looked like it had been burned with a flame. "The mark of my station was here, so I had to get it burned off. I couldn't keep it."

"Ow," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "I was able to heal quickly; dull the pain."

She kept wincing in sympathy.

"It's been centuries since. Now it's just a mark." He grabbed a grape that was sitting on the table. "I kept watch—until I heard your mother was ill and was dying. I went to see her. She begged me, far from the Queen she was, to find you; protect you. So I did—and here you are."

Rebecca grabbed a grape too, unable to find anything to respond with. Finally, when the silence dragged on for too long, she admitted, "You just bombarded me with information. I don't know what to think—or say."

"I know I did," he said. "Unavoidable."

Rebecca allowed that. "The whole time... you were looking for me?"

He nodded soberly. "I searched for a century—until I actually found you."

He talked of things that occurred thousands of years ago; searching for centuries. "How old are you."

"Well over a thousand years ago," he said.

Her eyes went wide. "How old will I be?"

"About that same—provided you don't fall ill or your protection fails you."

She ignored the ominous parts, tacking on, "Are Fae immortal?"

"No." He shook his head. "We can be struck down by many things—Elkstone is a deathly fatal poison. Eventually, among all that, old age does begin to factor and we weaken, but it's a long process and you've lived a long life at that."

"Doesn't that make like... worthless, living that long?" she asked. She couldn't imagine it.

"Life passes quickly," he said in response. "I've lived through war, death and faced unspeakable horrors. It doesn't feel like I've lived as long as I have at all."

"I used to stress out. I had—what—fifty or so years of my life where I was still young enough to not be in a nursing home. Now I've got ten times that," she muttering, unable to hear any logic in the words despite the circumstances. "Uh, wow."

"Human life pales in comparison," he said unapologetically. "I can blink and that's one life over; a body in a grave."

It was so cold—but honest. Rebecca couldn't find it in her to be offended. "I've been meaning to ask you something—this reminded me of it. Am I half human, or all Fae?"

"There is nothing human in your lineage."

"How long will I feel human then?"

"It's where you've lived," he said by explanation. "The language is different. Everything is different."

"Different," she repeated. "Beyond different. Everyone here treats me like I'm a God. That I've done something incredible to earn it. Really, I'm hopeless. Utterly hopeless. I don't deserve it. I'm freaked out because I've got wings, seen dragons. I should be blasé about it because I should be completely used to it. Nothing should surprise me and yet I look like a complete and utter idiot every second of the day."

"You're not—"

"There's supposed to be a war going on right now," Rebecca said. "And can you honestly say you trust me to lead that; be the one who's calling the shots?" He was silent. "Exactly. You don't. I don't. They don't. No one does. I'm nineteen—no one seemed to remember that."

"Your mother wed at sixteen. Took the throne at seventeen. Despite what you'd believe, your age is not a worrying factor for anyone."

"That doesn't give me a sense of reassurance."

"You underestimate yourself."

"I've heard that too many times before," she muttered.

"You're powerful, Rebecca. Certainly more than anyone else I've ever met—aside from your mother. That power you have cannot be taught. Everything else that comes with ruling can be taught and in time you'll learn."

Somehow she doubted that.

Only she didn't have the chance to respond, as the door to her room barged open so violently it almost shattered the adjacent wall.

Ferro stood so quickly Rebecca almost got whiplash watching him. "What—"

The girl talked right over him, her voice strained and frightened. "Your Grace. Sir. I'm s-sorry. Something... they're dead. Four of them. All..."

Rebecca wasn't tracking. She looked to Ferro helplessly.

The girl started speaking in rapid Faelk, so quick even Ferro looked like he couldn't keep up. Then his face froze in a mask so icy she couldn't bear make eye contact.

Slowly he said, "Becca. Stay here. Do not go anywhere."

He was heading off already.

"Ferro! What is it?"

He turned, eyes cold like frost. "Four members of your guard were found dead."

With that, he left.

Rebecca was left on the spot, utterly still with shock.