Jahree stood at attention, his posture rigid, as he sported his dress uniform—the one he’d rarely had to wear. The crisp fabric conformed perfectly to the serious demeanor he was trying to project, an external manifestation of the disquiet that gnawed at him. Since their brief and perplexing encounter at breakfast, Jahree had been tormented by cu-riosity, utterly in the dark about the reason behind Lanni’s unexplained distress the previ-ous evening. Trema stayed silent on the matter, implying that Jahree should leave it alone. Kritalla, however, enjoyed intimidating him with his gaze. Jahree focused on his duty of keeping an eye on the guests. A herald was droning on announcing the arrivals of im-portant people. His attention drifted until he noticed Tellic’s change in demeanor. Then, the herald announced the arrival of Princess Ambassador, Regent Annlonna Mathis va Darina Thailyn ton Tylan Emeton Entista Thorgrey Entista Nimitinas. A Menthanlan princess here at this gathering? Jahree’s eyes immediately sought out the figure matching such a prestigious introduction. Indeed, amid the vibrantly dressed nobility, a woman stood out, her garments surpassing all others in grandeur. But the regal attire was not what caught Jahree off guard—it was the delicate, familiar fea-tures of the woman who wore them. Lanni was a princess? It would take time for Jahree to fully digest the sheer magnitude of the an-nouncement. In the moment, he registered shock and confusion. But upon later reflection, when he found himself in solitude replaying the princess’s full title in his mind, Jahree grasped the gravity of her status, of her presence. The titles weren’t just a formality; they bore weight, and the implications of what her presence meant in this place, at this time, began to settle upon him with a significance he could not yet fully fathom. *** As Lanni entered the grand chamber, her full name and title echoed through the high ceilings, silencing the gathered nobility. She carried herself with the poise and grace that had become synonymous with her tenure as regent, each step measured to convey her authority. Her sharp and keen eyes fixed on her hostess as she confidently approached. “Lady Barta,” Lanni greeted with a warm smile, showing her gratitude. “Thank you for inviting me. Your foresight in having me attend this evening’s gathering was im-peccable.” “And, Lady Telma, thank you kindly for loaning us your cook so I could have the evening off,” Lanni said with genuine gratitude. Acting had become second nature to her during her years as an ambassador. However, deep down, she was fully aware of the consequences of her actions and how poorly it reflected on Lady Barta. It was considered inappropriate for someone of Lady Barta’s lower social ranking to invite members of the ruling class to a party. Moreover, Lanni was a princess of Menthanla, a country that was still perceived as an enemy by many. By admitting to working as a servant, Lanni had un-knowingly compromised Lady Barta’s reputation even further. Lanni was well aware that she had inadvertently revealed her secret and under-mined her own position. There was a strong possibility that she would lose her job as a cook, and even if she managed to keep it, she would no longer be an effective spy. She feared that her cover was likely be blown, and she would be lucky if her true identity as a spy went unnoticed. It had been the prince-general who had placed Lanni in this position seven years ago. Two years ago, he had informed her that her mission was complete and she could leave. However, Lanni chose to remain, hoping to uncover some valuable information. Yet, despite her efforts, she had not found anything significant. She wondered if Rantar and Barta were truly incompetent, or if there was a complex scheme at play that she simp-ly couldn’t decipher. On this particular evening, as she stepped into the grand hall, Lady Barta ad-dressed her with a feigned warmth that barely concealed her surprise. “I’m so glad you could grace us, Your Highness,” she said with a carefully crafted smile, “We’re such a long way from New Trito.” Lanni replied with the poise of someone well-versed in the nuances of royal di-plomacy. “The King’s Council is always happy to visit with Yarba’s nobles,” she assured her host. “We get so few invitations you’d think we were enemies. At least some know who their friends are.” Her confiding wink was carefully constructed to disarm, to forge a semblance of a confidential bond where none existed. Lady Barta was visibly uncomfortable. In an attempt to humiliate the girl whom she believed to be nothing more than a servant, she had placed Lanni in the highest place of honor at the table—a strategic misstep that inadvertently afforded Lanni the respect and attention her true station commanded. With this small victory in mind, Lanni allowed herself to unwind slightly, navi-gating the treacherous social waters of the gathering with a deftness born of her unique upbringing. It bore a bittersweet similarity to her own childhood—memories of times spent on the fringes of social events, where her presence was barely tolerated. Despite the sting of social rejection, she had learned to observe unnoticed, a skill that now served her invaluably in her clandestine role. She was resolved to enjoy the evening for what it was, a masquerade where she played the unlikely role of honored guest, all while her sharp eyes and keener mind remained vigilant for any slip or clue that could unravel the con-spiracies of the court. *** As Jahree watched Lanni gracefully move to the rhythm of the music, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy with each gentleman she chose to dance with. Her laughter was a melody that seemed to resonate with his deepest desires, and he yearned to be the cause of her joy, to be the one whose arms she sought comfort in. Yet, deep within himself, he knew this yearning would remain unfulfilled. He was but an orphaned refugee, his status worlds apart from the sophisticated nobles who effortlessly captivated her attention. His heart ached when he recalled his own attempt to win her affection, an attempt that had been gently but firmly spurned. How could he possibly compare to the affluent suitors that surrounded her? Just then, Tellic sauntered over, his face split by a wide, irrepressible grin that seemed out of place given Jahree’s melancholic musings. Jahree’s confusion must have been evident because Tellic couldn’t contain his amusement any longer. “You tried to mate with a dragon, a royal one too,” Tellic chortled, clearly amused by his own observation. Jahree, momentarily thrown, blinked in bewilderment. “I what?” he stammered, unsure if he had heard his friend correctly. “Lanni’s a dragon. I’m assuming you didn’t sleep with her last night,” Tellic said, smirking at the absurdity of the situation. “No,” Jahree replied, still grappling with the absurd assertion. “Because she’s a dragon. Dragons don’t sleep around,” Tellic told him “I know that. Remember, I grew up with dragons,” Jahree retorted, a touch of ir-ritation in his voice as he didn’t appreciate having his knowledge questioned. “Why do you say she’s a dragon?” “Her full name,” Tellic began with an air of revelation, “is Annlonna Va Thailyn. Thailyn is a dragon name. Don’t you recall the famous healer from ages past? That’s Thailyn. It seems her lineage is just as noble and extraordinary as her dancing.” The information hit Jahree like a wave crashing onto shore. The connection be-tween the graceful woman he had admired and the legendary dragon healer named Thailyn made a bizarre kind of sense now, giving rise to a mixture of emotions that in-cluded awe, disbelief, and a surreal sense of clarity. As he processed this new revelation, Jahree’s eyes returned to Lanni. He watched her with a newfound perspective, his heart still yearning, but now touched by the magic of a truth that made her even more unreach-able. “Perhaps it was a different Thailyn,” Jahree suggested, trying to wrap his mind around the surprising revelation. The healer in question had gained widespread renown, his skills so legendary that new parents often named their offspring after him. But as he pondered, it did begin to make sense of certain peculiarities, not least of which was her inexplicably soothing purring the night before. “Maybe,” Tellic conceded with a tone of uncertainty, “but they also mentioned Entista Nimitinas. She was apprenticed to Nimitinas. That’s your Great-grandpa Nim.” The name struck a deeper chord with Jahree. Unlike the more common namesake of Thailyn, not many bore the name Nimitinas. Jahree’s Great-grandfather Nim was much rarer, a unique figure in their history. “But he passed away hundreds of years ago,” Jahree reminded him gently. “I know,” Tellic responded, the weight of history heavy in his voice. “No human could live that long, not even with the aid of magic to decelerate the aging process.” Jahree felt a forlorn gaze settle upon him as his thoughts meandered to Lanni, a woman he realized he had no chance with. He understood that no dragon would desire to bond with him, especially not after the murky tides of his past—a past marked by actions he deeply regretted. His Tamerian heritage only further complicated matters; it was a part of him that he could not escape no matter how far he ran or how much good he tried to do. He sighed, a soft exhalation of resignation and sorrow. His transgressions, it seemed, were permanent shadows that would persistently trail his footsteps. Yet, despite the looming specter of his history, Jahree found solace in the brief spark of camaraderie they had shared. “Maybe at least that could continue,” he hoped silently, clinging to the notion of preserving their friendship—a solitary source of light in the fog of uncertainties that lay ahead. #fantasy, #magic, #dragons, #hiddenlands