“Ms. Greentree?” the voice prompted.
“Sorry. What was that?”
“The police would like to speak to you as soon as you are able.”
“Oh, yes. I-I can do that.” Amy felt like she was still in a daze. Her body felt too heavy and too light at the same time. She wanted to call Stacy, call her mother. She wanted to get the hell out of the hospital and find out what happened at Victor’s estate. She wanted the men who had chased them brought to justice.
“We’ve seen a miracle tonight,” the nurse remarked, her voice tinged with awe.
Amy’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Your improvement is inexplicable. There is no logical reason for how you could have healed so quickly.”
Yes, there is, Amy thought. You wouldn’t believe me, though.
Magic, somehow. Someone had been here and used magic to heal her. She had no idea who. She hadn’t recognized the voice. She wondered if the person came of their own accord or if someone else had sent them. Stacy? Rowan?
Amy thought of something else. The circumstances that had driven her to this hospital returned to her mind in full force. “H-how is the man who came here with me? How is Spencer doing?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The balcony connected to Stacy’s room overlooked the back portion of the estate. She stood there dressed in pajamas with her gaze directed at the clouds gathering above. They covered the moon, and the pale silver light cast shadows against them. Stacy could have sworn she saw the image of a dragon etched against the moonlit clouds. Was it there, or was she so tired she’d made it up?
She shook her head and issued a deep sigh. Regardless, the symbol reminded her of the ancient lineage and legacy of the Drakethorns. What came next with Victor would be another marking stone in that legacy.
She pulled her phone from her pocket. Her father deserved to know what happened and what she planned to do, not only as the man who raised her and gave her this home but as the Drake whose dragon power flowed through her veins.
Stacy inhaled deeply, gathering her courage before calling.
“Stacy?” her father answered. “It’s late. Is everything all right?”
Stacy couldn’t help the tears that streamed down her face. She thought she could keep it in, but his concern had her breaking down again. Her voice was choked when she replied, “Something’s happened.”
She told him about Amy and Spencer going to the Corbinelli gala and her, Rowan, and Kiera assaulting Victor’s home in Aurora. She told him what happened to Spencer and Amy’s current state. It flowed out of her so quickly that Khan stopped her several times to ask clarifying questions.
Stacy couldn’t quite believe she’d told him all that. She had held back in recent months with her father, her pride wounded when she had to ask him for help. Now, the weight of failure due to Spencer’s death and Amy’s near death was too much to bear alone.
“I’m in over my head, Dad,” she admitted. “I won’t risk anyone else dying, but I have to bring Victor down. He’s hurt too many people. I know you’ll say I shouldn’t because I need to be safe, but I’m going to proceed with or without your blessing. I can only hope you will help me. Please.”
A long pause followed before Khan spoke. “Of course I will help you, Stacy. And you should not blame yourself for what happened.”
She was surprised this was his first response. She had expected a lecture and a stern warning about proceeding.
“What happened was Victor’s doing, and he will pay,” Khan added.
Stacy glanced at the clouds. She could have sworn she heard a dragon’s wrath in her father’s voice. He kept his voice calm and controlled as he continued. “I will send Reginald and some others to your home to guard it while you are away. I have some…other ideas about how to help, but you have a lot going on now, and I won’t bother you with them. Trust me, Stacy.”
She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I do trust you.”
“You must be careful. Allow Rowan and the others to protect you as they see fit. Your mother appointed Rowan to the estate for a reason.” His warning was firm, but earnestness edged his voice.
Stacy remembered Rowan threatening to drag her ass out of Victor’s house so she would not get killed. It made her bristle, but in the end, Rowan was right. “I will,” she murmured into the phone.
She heard her father shift as if he was taking a seat in his library. She imagined him surrounded by candlelight, old books, and quiet. “Now, Stacy, tell me what you have planned.”
When his call with Stacy ended, Khan remained sitting in his library. Candlelight flickered around him, illuminating a space full of books and relics of a life spanning several centuries. Anyone who stepped into the room would have thought he was a hoarder of arcane heirlooms. He supposed this was true. He was a dragon, after all.
Khan’s head filled with the broken voice of his daughter. She’d told him her plan with firm resolve. It was a good one, he had to admit. She had the wits and strategic mind of her mother. He only hoped her magic would match it.
He sank further into the leather chair that seemed to swallow his formidable frame, his green-gold eyes reflecting the firelight from the hearth. His gaze drifted to the mantle above, where a portrait of Catherine hung.
In it, she stood among brambles and briars, roses blooming against a tall stone wall in the background. She smiled with a cheek perched on her fist. Her eyes danced with mirth. The sight of the portrait made Khan want to laugh and cry at the same time.
He remembered the day it was painted well. It had been shortly before they’d discovered she was pregnant with Stacy. They’d gone to her manor house to enjoy some time alone. The garden had been in full bloom, and Khan had insisted a painter come and capture Catherine in it. The house and garden were her favorite places in the world. He had wanted her likeness painted there before their lives changed forever. Before Anastasia was born.
He smiled as tears gathered in his eyes. “Your daughter is much like you,” he told the painting. “I am glad of it. I feared she was too much like me for a long time.”
The dancing amusement in the portrait’s eyes seemed to say, She still is much like you. That dragon wrath may get her into trouble.
That was what worried Khan, though he chuckled at the thought of Catherine saying it. He did not fear so much for his daughter’s safety. She had a team of people who would lay their lives down for hers. He feared she would access more power than she was currently capable of handling.
She must forge her own path, a voice spoke into his mind.
I know, Catherine.
You must protect her, but she must move forward of her own accord, too.
