Wyrm opened the door to his cell and tentatively stepped out. He knew it wasn’t real, and he knew Cramda was dead, and so was Morcri. No one would punish him for leaving, but he was still nervous. He made his way to the base room Cramda used for scrying. He kept expecting Cramda to appear and start beating him for leaving his cell. He didn’t know why he came here. He scried various places he used to scry for Cramda. Then he stopped with Nor’than. How many times had he scried Earth? Had he ever seen His dad and not realized it? He made each room he’d scried appear. It didn’t seem like his dad was in any. He gave up scrying. He decided to go to the kitchen. He wasn’t hungry but he wondered what it would be like to eat something in here. Cautiously, he went to the larder and took out some pastries. He’d never been allowed to eat them. Did he dare now? He helped himself to a piece of something he didn’t have a name for and took a bite. “Are you hungry?” Shunati asked. Wyrm whirled around dropping the pastry. How long had he been following him? “Relax. It’s okay. Your heart rate was up so I came in to check and make sure you weren’t having a nightmare.” “I was just walking. I’ve been in my cell for days.” “Actually, it’s been weeks. Are you hungry?” The pastry rose from the floor and put itself back together. “We’re taking care of your nutrition, but sometimes, people still feel hungry.” “I’m okay. I was just curious. I’ve never had one of those before.” “How did it taste?” “Like nothing,” he admitted. “That’s because you have no frame of reference. I’ll see about getting you some when you wake up.” “Will that be soon?” “Not until after your trial.” “When will that be?” He was torn. Part of him wanted to get it over with and be done. The other part of him wanted them to take a long time and let him live longer. “When we have enough healers. Mostly, we’re waiting on Thailyn.” “How’s he doing?” “Improving. A healer from Ertonia sent a potion for him that’s helping quite a bit. It may only be a few more weeks. Ann’s offered to be your advocate and help you with your defense.” “Why?” “Well, you are family. And she’s an ambassador. It’s kind of part of her job since you’re not Menthanlan. She’s quite good at it. I believe your dad’s helping too.” “No one here is what I expected.” “Most people who come to the palace are surprised. I was. Your mom was too.” “My mom?” He grew excited. Had they found her? “Sorry. I meant Shay, Mishtali’s wife. She’d be your mom too.” “Oh.” He didn’t bother to hide his disappointment. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it’s like not knowing anything about your family. They are trying to find out who she is, but it’ll take time.” “I understand.” “But Shay is still family, Shintara, if I remember correctly. And she sees you as much her child as Thailyn or Jaidu.” “Cramda used to claim I’d only live until I was twenty. Ann said I’d live longer, that Cramda was lying. Was he? There isn’t something wrong with me, is there?” “Aside from some damage caused by all the abuse, you’re fine. I’ve healed what I can. I can’t predict when anyone will die. Ann could strike the palace with lightning and kill us all. But I see nothing that would indicate you don’t have the potential to live the life span of any half dragon, which is about two thousand years. With your immortal blood, you may live longer.” “Ann said that too. I’m half human and half dragon. I’m not immortal.” “Cramda called you a crossbreed?” Wyrm nodded. “That’s what Ertonians call people with some immortal blood Otherwise he’d have called you a half-breed. The mixed blood is what allows you to be a White Wyrm. Do you mind that term? Ann doesn’t like it.” “It’s fine.” He’d been called Wyrm all his life. And he was white. Why wouldn’t Ann like it? “Dragons usually get darker in color the stronger they are in magic.” “Dad’s a black dragon. He’s that much stronger than me?” Sometimes his strength seemed to surpass Cramda’s. Are dragons that much stronger? He hadn’t thought that was the case. “Isn’t black darker than white? Am I misunderstanding the word?” “No. Black is darker. Dragons are creatures of magic. They need to have a strong amount to live. Magically weak dragons can’t survive. It was always believed that white dragons couldn’t exist because that would imply they had no magic. Ann is the first and you’re the second. Your magic is so strong, it doesn’t show in your coloring. Now, we need to keep your heritage a secret. The Ertonians have been trying to create a White Wyrm for millennia. You two are the only successes. Most went insane when they came into their magic and started killing everyone they saw. You and Ann are obviously beyond that. The people may still fear you and we don’t know what the Ertonian Senate will do. It would be best to refer to yourself as a half-breed.” Wyrm nodded. “I understand.” And he did. He finally understood why Cramda hid him, what it was about his heritage that made him different. Shunati nodded. “Good. I should go. I’ll be back later. Enjoy your pie. It tastes like apples and cinnamon and it’s very sweet.” He disappeared. Pie, that’s what it was called. Wyrm took a bite. He did taste apples now, but he was unfamiliar with cinnamon. He took the pie back to his cell. He liked apples.