For the last few days, I stayed quiet, mostly keeping to my room or Drakon’s. He noticed, of course. He tried everything to cheer me up—bringing me favorite meals, distracting me with low-key stories, trying to pull me out of the dark fog settling over my mind. I smiled and laughed for him, but I knew he saw right through it. Knowing my parents had been murdered by the very people who stole me and raised me didn't just hurt; it absolutely rattled me to my core. Everything I thought I knew about my past was built on a pile of ashes.
One morning, a quiet knock on the door woke me up. I rubbed my eyes and pulled myself up as the door pushed open.
Drakon was standing in the doorway, holding a big, beautiful bouquet of deep dahlias and soft white roses.
A genuine smile tugged at my lips as I
