“You had balls out there when you told them your true name,” Kiera remarked. “I admire you for it. Things might get more difficult as a result, but you have my full support.”
“Thank you, Kiera. You have no idea how much that means to me.” Stacy paused, then added, “I noticed things between you and Rowan are patched up. That’s good.”
“We…talked. I think things will be better.”
“Good, because Miles seemed to be bursting at the seams, like the tension was on him, too.”
“What about me?” another voice from the hallway asked. Miles waltzed in, brown eyes glittering. “I was wondering where you two went.”
“We’re having a girl chat,” Kiera cut in.
“My favorite,” Miles replied, striding to stand at the window with them. The sun was close to setting, and shadows grew long and thick across the grounds. “I came to report that all the defenses are well secured, My Lady.”
“Did Rowan tell you to call me that? I never want you to do it again,” Stacy replied.
“How would you know about the defenses, anyway?” Kiera inserted. “You’re drunk!”
“I’m not that drunk,” Miles protested.
“You practically stumbled in here!”
“The carpet was loose!”
Stacy shook her head, smiling as she tipped her glass to her lips. It wouldn’t be home if Miles and Kiera weren’t bickering. When they tired of their argument and returned their attention to her, she stated, “I want to thank both of you for coming to live in my home. Our home. Without you, I couldn’t have defeated Victor and wouldn’t be standing here now.”
Miles winked, saluting her. “We’ll have your back to the end, Drakethorn.”
Kiera’s dark purple painted lips curved into a smile. “No matter what lies ahead of us, Anastasia.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Two weeks later
Anastasia Drakethorn arrived at her father’s estate in a sleek black car with Rowan at the wheel. “Seriously, you didn’t have to drive me here,” she told the dryad. “It’s not far from our house.” She had taken to calling the Thorn estate “our house” when speaking to Rowan, Miles, Kiera, or Amy. Though she owned it and had official say over how it was run and used, it felt like it belonged to them all. Especially Rowan, who had been there the longest.
“I am your driver,” Rowan protested. “That means I drive you anywhere you need to go, even if it is only next door.”
Stacy rolled her eyes but laughed. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to come home.”
Rowan waited until Stacy was at the front door before he pulled away from the grand Drakethorn mansion. Stacy inhaled deeply before knocking. She did not have to wait long before the grand doors swung open to reveal her ancestral home and the butler who ran it.
Reginald smiled down at her. “Miss Anastasia, it’s been too long since we had you here. Everyone is glad you’re visiting this evening.”
Stacy stepped into the foyer. Reginald offered to take her raincoat as she considered the mixed emotions inside her. Part of her was taken back to the Stacy she was when she was eighteen, sick of living what she had considered a sheltered life and about to leave home. Now she was back, nine years later, a full-grown woman with shit she would never have imagined happening behind her. She had a good sense more shit she didn’t see coming was ahead.
Despite preferring that Reginald call her Stacy, she didn’t correct him. Old Regi would never call her anything else despite her protestations. “Oh, Regi, what’s that for?” she asked after turning, her jacket slipping from her arms. She’d noticed the old butler wiping a tear from his cheek.
“It’s only that…well, we’re so proud of you, Anastasia. Your father told us about recent events. And, of course, we were at your party and heard your announcement.”
Stacy flashed an appreciative smile. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if not for you, Esme, and Torin. You were basically my second, third, and fourth parents!” How could they not be when they had done everything from changing her diapers to teaching times tables to helping her through the SATs?
Reginald chuckled and placing a comforting hand on her back, prodding her toward her father’s library. “He’s waiting for you.”
Reginald disappeared down the hallway, probably to announce her arrival to Esme, who was cooking their dinner.
Stacy lingered in the hallway for a moment. She gazed at the portraits of her ancestors adorning the walls. She felt their eyes upon her, as if their spirits dwelled in the eyes of those painted figures—the Drakes who had come before her. She paused at the end of the hallway where her mother’s portrait hung, concealing a doorway that led into one of her many secret rooms.
She traced the edge of the frame, whispering, “You’ve brought me this far, Mom, with all your secrets.” She laughed lightly. “I vow to carry your legacy on from here.”
Khan’s posture betrayed a rare vulnerability when his daughter entered. He wasn’t the straight-standing, formidable Khan everyone knew him to be. He wasn’t sitting behind his desk with sharp eyes scanning piles of papers and important emails. As soon as Stacy stepped into the library, he folded her in his arms. “I’m prouder of you than you will ever know,” he whispered into the top of her head.
After her party, they hadn’t had a chance to speak, and two weeks had passed in a flurry of busy activities for them both. Khan had kept these words to himself, promising to share them when he saw her next. He pulled back, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Now that you’ve assumed your dragon form, we can work toward a more collaborative future.”
“Father-daughter flying bonding sessions?” Stacy quipped. She laughed, then grew solemn. “I’m not sure how my transformation happened, and I doubt it’ll be a thing again anytime soon.”
“I remember my first transformation well,” Khan responded with a wistful look in his green eyes. “I was ten.”
“Ten? Does that mean I’m behind?”
“Magic awakens at different times in different people. For instance, neither of my parents had their first Turning until they were eighteen. You can imagine my mother’s surprise and alarm when she found me one morning, feeding on chickens in dragon form. She didn’t know it was me at first and changed to chase me off. After she realized I was her son, she lectured me on going after our breakfast.”
Stacy’s eyes shone with amusement. It was odd to think she had grandparents, especially because they were old as stone and had died a long time ago.
Khan grew serious. “Your magic will continue to build, Stacy, and it will need a way out. You will have to transform again to blow off some steam.”
“Literally,” she muttered.
“And you are always welcome on my lands. Our lands. The Thorn estate is lovely and serves good purposes, but it doesn’t have the space you will need to…fly about.” He fluttered a hand.
