Kovax felt his scales tighten against his skin as they stood before the document bearing his father's seal. The request was simple but monumental: access to the Sacred River that flowed through the heart of Faeland, connecting the dragon territories to the Western Ocean.

For centuries, the dragons had been landlocked, forced to trade through intermediaries or fly dangerous routes across hostile territories. The river would change everything—dragon ships could sail directly to the ocean, opening new trade routes, new alliances, new possibilities.

Ryaz reached for the petition, his expression carefully neutral as he began to read.

"This has been requested at every Accord renewal for the past millennium," Kovax said quietly. "And denied every time."

Ryaz nodded, eyes still scanning the document. "I'm aware of the history."

Kovax shifted uncomfortably, suddenly acutely aware of the implications. Their current... situation... complicated what should have been a straightforward diplomatic negotiation.

"About this petition," Kovax began, his voice rougher than intended. "You shouldn't let our... personal circumstances influence your decision."

Ryaz looked up, lilac eyes questioning.

"If the Fae suddenly approve this after centuries of refusal, right after..." Kovax gestured vaguely between them, unable to name what had happened. "People will talk. Make connections. I don't want rumors spreading about you, about the child, before we've had a chance to control the narrative."

Understanding dawned in Ryaz's eyes. "You're concerned about appearances."

"I'm concerned about you," Kovax admitted, the words escaping before he could stop them. He quickly amended, "And the political implications. For both our races."

Ryaz's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "I assure you, Prince Kovax, I have no intention of allowing our current affairs to dictate my response to this or any petition. Each will be judged on its merits alone."

Relief washed through Kovax, though he couldn't entirely explain why. He nodded stiffly. "Good. That's... good." He cleared his throat, suddenly needing distance from the Fae prince and his too-perceptive eyes. "I should examine some of the other petitions. Excuse me."

He retreated to the far side of the room, pretending to study a sylph proposal while his thoughts tumbled like stones in a landslide. What was wrong with him? Why did he care what Ryaz thought? Why did standing near him make his scales feel too tight for his skin?

Across the room, Ryaz returned his attention to the dragon petition, slender fingers tracing the elegant script. He had actually decided to approve river access months ago, after extensive research into the environmental and economic impacts. The Silver River could sustain the traffic without ecological damage if properly regulated, and the trade benefits to both races were substantial.

But now, as he made notes in the margins of his pad, he couldn't help but wonder if anyone would believe his decision was based on merit rather than... other considerations. How could he convince the dragons—and his own people—that this wasn't a concession born of their unexpected connection?

Lost in these thoughts, he didn't notice his father's approach until a hand touched his shoulder, startling him badly.

"Forgive me," Emperor Ru'unan said, his ancient eyes crinkling with concern. "I didn't mean to alarm you."

"Father," Ryaz breathed, pressing a hand to his racing heart. "No, it's fine. I was just... absorbed in my reading."

The Emperor glanced at the petition before them, silver eyebrows rising slightly. "The river access request. I expected you'd be reviewing that one carefully."

"I've been researching it for months," Ryaz admitted as they moved away from the pedestal, toward the exit. "Long before... recent events." He lowered his voice. "I believe we should approve it, with appropriate restrictions and oversight."

His father nodded thoughtfully. "Your analysis?"

"The ecological impact would be minimal with proper regulations. The economic benefits substantial. And..." Ryaz hesitated. "It could be the beginning of genuine cooperation between our races, rather than mere coexistence."

They stepped into the grand foyer, continuing their discussion as they walked. The Emperor's presence beside him was comforting, a reminder that despite everything, some constants remained.

"You've given this considerable thought," his father observed. "I'm inclined to support your recommendation, though the Council will need convincing."

"I've prepared detailed arguments addressing their likely concerns," Ryaz began, then froze as a familiar figure burst through the hotel's main entrance.

Michael. His face was flushed, hair disheveled, eyes wild with panic as they darted around the foyer. When he spotted Ryaz, relief flooded his features, followed immediately by something that looked almost like guilt.

"Ryaz!" he called, rushing toward them with no regard for protocol or propriety. "I came back and you were gone. No one knew where—I thought—" His voice broke. "I thought something had happened to you."

Ryaz stepped forward quickly, placing a calming hand on Michael's arm. "I'm fine," he assured him, acutely aware of the curious stares from passing delegates. "I was feeling better, so I came to review the petitions. I sent a guard to find you."

"I never saw any guard," Michael said, his breathing still ragged. "I've been searching everywhere. The marketplace, the gardens, even the sylph performance grounds."

"Let's discuss this upstairs," Ryaz suggested quietly, guiding Michael toward the elevators. He glanced back at his father. "If you'll excuse us?"

The Emperor nodded, concern evident in his ancient eyes. "We'll continue our discussion later."

Ryaz led Michael to the elevators, keeping his voice low and soothing despite the tension radiating from his partner. "You're making a scene," he murmured. "Deep breaths."

The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside. As Ryaz pressed the button for their floor, he caught sight of Kovax watching from across the foyer, amber eyes unreadable at this distance. Their gazes locked for a brief moment before the doors began to close.

In that instant, something passed between them—not quite understanding, not quite connection, but something. Then the doors shut, and Ryaz turned his attention to calming the agitated man beside him.

Kovax stood motionless in the foyer, a strange ache blooming in his chest as he watched the elevator doors close on the scene. The hybrid's obvious distress, his desperate rush to Ryaz's side, had stirred something unexpected in Kovax—not jealousy, exactly, but something adjacent to it. A hollow feeling, as if he were witnessing something precious that could never be his.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the sensation. This was ridiculous. He barely knew Ryaz. Their only real interaction had been... he couldn't even think about it without shame burning through him like dragonfire.

Yet something had changed. Something was changing still, evolving with each encounter, each conversation. The hatred he'd cultivated for centuries toward all things Fae seemed to be crumbling, replaced by confusion and this strange, persistent ache.

Kovax turned away from the elevators, heading back toward the dragon delegation's rooms. His father would be returning soon, and Kovax had questions that only the dragon king might answer. Questions about biology and instinct. About mating bonds and their unexpected consequences.

About why, despite everything, he couldn't stop thinking about lilac eyes flecked with green.

Kovax's boots scuffed against marble as he turned. Behind him, Emperor Ru'unan's ancient fingers stilled against his ceremonial sash, his silver eyebrows lifting slightly as he observed the dragon prince's behaviour and retreating form with interest.