Stacy’s mind still boggled at the concept. Her stomach growled. “Can we eat now? I’m starving. Ever since changing, I can’t seem to eat enough.”
“It’s your body making all the appropriate magical changes. I suggest you eat a cow.”
Stacy laughed, then paused at the lack of mirth on his face. “Wait, are you joking or serious?”
His smile was enigmatic. “We can start with Esme’s delightful steak dinner.”
Father and daughter strode arm in arm into the dining room, where Esme had already laid out their dinner. The others would not join them since Khan wanted to discuss things of a dragon nature with his daughter without interruption. This was Stacy’s chance to ask all the questions she had. During their dinner, Khan diverted the subject to her plans for the estate.
“I know you plan to establish your practice, but what does your mother’s old house have to do with that?”
“I will work from there, of course,” Stacy replied. “It’ll be my office and a place where I can meet with clients, especially those having trouble with oppressive overseers or opposing law people. I also want to provide a haven for anyone who needs it. I can’t see why it’d be a bad idea because we have so many rooms. Miles and Rowan have assured me they can keep up security.”
Khan nodded as she spoke, admiring all the pieces she had considered while forming her plan. Yes, one day, she would make a fine replacement at the Drakethorn estate, too. “The Thorn estate is all yours, a gift from your mother,” he noted when Stacy finished outlining her plans. “While I am happy to advise, everything about the place is your decision.”
Stacy gave an appreciative smile. Khan reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Your mother would be proud. You have no idea.”
“There is one other thing I wanted to talk to you about,” she stated.
“I’m listening.”
She set down her fork, a signal that what she was about to say was serious. “I want to become more involved in the supernatural echelons of the city and the surrounding countryside. I doubt Victor was the only one. There’s you, of course, but if I’m going to have a place and help others, I need to know who I can work with. Or work against, depending on how they receive me.”
Khan grew grim. “You needn’t involve yourself with the others in the Circle, Anastasia.”
She glowered at his formal use of her name. “So there is a group? I want to know more about them.”
When Khan did not reply, she added, “Victor was their king, wasn’t he? Or whatever they call the guy in charge. His throne now sits empty. Will you take it?”
Khan waved a dismissive hand. “It’s all beneath me, and it’s beneath you, too, Stacy. I have no need to rule.”
Stacy stiffened. This wasn’t about power or a desire to hold a higher standing. It was about helping people. If Khan didn’t want to do it, she would.
Her father leaned his elbows on the table and held her gaze with those glowing golden eyes. Ancient years of draconic wisdom shone there, but just because he’d been alive for a long-ass time didn’t excuse him from removing himself from society and letting others suffer. Stacy refused to be like that.
“Can we speak of other matters, Stacy?” he asked with a sigh. “I want to talk about how you will one day run this estate. What you’re doing at your mother’s is only practice.”
Why did he have to be so condescending and dismissive? Stacy knew he was oblivious to this, but she didn’t have the strength to argue. Let him inform her how to run the estate, and when the day came, she would do things her way.
Following dinner, Khan suggested they stroll the gardens. Stacy agreed since dusk was her favorite time of day, and she had many fond memories of spending this time on the grounds. When she was younger, she’d often steal into the gardens around bedtime to avoid baths, teeth brushing, and being tucked in by Esme. Torin, her co-conspirator had always seen where she’d gone and not given her away.
The memory brought a tentative smile to her lips. One day, she hoped to have as many good memories about her new home, too.
“I will say I was surprised to hear your announcement at the party,” Khan spoke up as they strode flower-flanked paths in the dim light. “Not about you setting up your practice but revealing your true name. I was honored, too.”
“I’ll admit that picking up the Anastasia Drakethorn name again feels right, but I feel its weight, too. I want to make it a name that will inspire and be appreciated, yet I know others will fear it.”
“The fear of others isn’t a bad thing.”
“But wouldn’t that mean I have a lot of power? I don’t want power.”
“And that is precisely why you are a good person to have it.”
Stacy shook her head. “I don’t think anyone is intended to handle power well.” She paused, remembering who her father was. Sometimes, she forgot he was Constantine Drakethorn, a real-life dragon with endless resources and wealth, not Khan, a man who loved Chinese takeout and soap operas.
“It is your calling, Anastasia,” Khan remarked at last, his voice quiet in the evening air.
Stacy glanced at him and noticed his misted eyes.
“All you have to do is ask, and I will provide anything you need,” he added.
Stacy hesitated, then wrapped a hand around her father’s arm and leaned against his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he whispered.
When Stacy returned home, she found Amy in the living room, sitting at a small writing desk and scribbling something on paper. Amy glanced up with a wan smile when Stacy entered. “How was dinner with your father?”
“Good. It was nice to get his input. I feel like I have my future figured out better.” Stacy paused to perch on the arm of a sofa. “That’s what I came to talk to you about. Your future, Amy. A lot has changed, and I want to know where you’re at.”
“As Anastasia Drakethorn?”
“As your friend.”
Amy sighed and set her pen down, twisting in the chair to face Stacy. “I’ll confess I’ve had a tough time figuring that out. I thought I wanted to work for the company I’m with for many years, but after what happened, maybe some private journalism would be good for a while. I don’t know. The thought of writing articles right now doesn’t sound appealing.”
Stacy gestured at the paper on the desk. “And that?”
