Azrael's gaze slowly turned to the door someone knocked. "Can you help? Please?"
Azrael sighed, rolling out of his bed and walking over to the door to open it.
"I managed to sneak some jelly tarts from the kitchen," said Summer, walking into Azrael's room.
Azrael raised a brow. "And?"
"I have a couple for you."
"But–"
"Don't worry. Father doesn't know I'm here."
Summer sat on Azrael's bed, and layed her cane on the bed next to her. "Want one?" She asked, offering a jelly tart.
Azrael hesitated. "I... I guess." He gently took the jelly tart from her hand.
"Sorry for getting in you in trouble." Summer mumbled.
Azrael shrugged with a scoff. "I'd get in trouble even if I didn't do anything."
"Maybe you just have to try doing something good," Summer suggested. "Ya know, like brushing the snow leopards?"
Azrael sighed, flopping onto his bed. "And get shamed by the general for leaving my bedroom? No thank you."
"Come on, Az. There must be something you could do to make father love you."
Azrael stared at the ceiling for a long moment, jelly tart in hand but untouched. “That’s the thing, Summer,” he said quietly, voice dry. “I could save the entire kingdom from a dragon apocalypse and he’d still find a way to be disappointed.”
Summer’s smile faltered. “You don’t really believe that... do you?”
Azrael chuckled, but it was hollow. “Do I believe it?” He finally took a bite of the tart. “Mmm. Disappointment tastes like raspberry.”
She nudged him gently with her shoulder. “Az…”
“Don’t worry. I’ve come to terms with being the family disgrace,” he said, voice light but eyes heavy. “It’s kind of freeing, actually. You stop trying to please people, and just… exist.”
Summer fiddled with her cane, her brows knitting together in quiet thought. “I don’t think you’re a disgrace.”
“Well, yeah, you don’t. You’re the only one who still sees me as—” He cut himself off, sitting up and looking at the floor. “Never mind.”
She tilted her head, eyes soft. “As what?”
He hesitated again. “...As someone who could still matter.”
The room went quiet. Even the snow outside the window seemed to hush.
Summer took his hand, her fingers warm despite the cold. “You do matter. Even if Father’s too blind to see it.”
Azrael gave a small, crooked smile. “You know… for someone who’s supposedly the spoiled one, you’ve got an annoyingly strong heart.”
Summer grinned. “Well, someone’s got to have one.”
Azrael took another bite of his tart. "You sure Father doesn't know you're here?"
Summer winked. "I convinced the guards not to tell."
Azrael huffed a laugh. "Of course you did."
There was a long moment of silence between them.
"You ever wonder what it's like outside the Kingdom walls?" Summer finally asked.
"All the time," Azrael answered. "If I wasn't the family disappointment, I'd take you away with me. We'd explore the world."
Summer smiled, her eyes glowing with quiet excitement. “Where would we go first?”
Azrael didn’t even have to think. “The cliffs of Elira. They say the sea dragons breach from the waves every morning like they're dancing with the sky.”
Summer’s smile widened. “That sounds beautiful.”
“And then,” Azrael continued, a spark of energy flickering in his voice, “we’d go to the Amberwood. The trees there have golden leaves that never fall. Even in winter. You’d love it.”
Summer leaned her head against Azrael’s shoulder. “Promise me something?”
Azrael glanced down at her, the soft weight of her head pressing a knot of emotion into his chest. “What?”
“If you ever do get out... promise you’ll see those places. For me.”
He hesitated. “Only if I can write you the longest, most obnoxious letters about them. Like, several scrolls long. You’ll hate it.”
Summer laughed, soft and real. “Deal.”
The next morning...165Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhnQEiHqS1J
165Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzHEX24n9uu
Azrael peeked out of his room as maids and doctors rushed down the corridors. Curious, he stepped out and carefully followed them to...Summer's room?
"What's wrong with her?" Azrael asked one of the maids.
The maid shot Azrael a glare, and shoved him away. "Get away from here! You don't to make this anymore worse than it already is!"
"But–"
King Edric came rushing down the hall, only to stop as soon as he noticed Azrael. "What did you do?"
Azrael stammered. “I—I didn’t do anything! She came to me! She was fine last night!”
Edric’s cold gaze burned into him, icy and sharp. “She’s not fine now, is she?”
Behind the king, the bedroom doors were flung open. He could hear doctors muttering, frantic voices throwing words like “fever spike,” “breath too shallow,” and "unstable magic". Maids rushed in with vials and wet cloths. Someone knocked over a tray.
Azrael’s heart thudded violently in his chest. “Let me see her!”
“You’ve done enough,” Edric snarled, stepping between Azrael and the door. “I should’ve never let her near you. You’re cursed—I knew you were cursed.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Azrael shouted, his voice cracking. “She just—she just came to talk! We had tarts, for stars’ sake!”
“You always bring misfortune wherever you go,” Edric hissed. “First your mother, now—” He stopped himself, turning away like the words burned his throat. “Go back to your room. Stay there.”
Azrael’s fists clenched. “No. I’m not leaving her—”
“Guards!” Edric barked.
Two armored figures stepped forward, grabbing Azrael by the arms.
“No—NO! Let me go!” Azrael thrashed wildly. “Let me see her! SUMMER!”
The bedroom door slammed shut.
Hours later...
Azrael sat curled on the floor of his room, fists bruised from pounding the door. His eyes were red. The jelly tart sat abandoned on the edge of his desk, forgotten.
A soft tap-tap came at his window.
Azrael stiffened.
He crossed the room and peeked through the frost-covered glass.
"What's a prince doing locked up in a castle?" A sweet voice asked from outside before a large golden dragon appeared in front of his window.
Azrael stumbled back.
"Oh, no, don't be frightened now. I was merely curious," said the dragon. "I had always been told it was the princess who was locked up."
Azrael walked towards the window and stared at the dragon. "Who are you?"
"My name is Solara. What's yours?"
"Azrael."
"Azrael," Solara echoed, tasting the name like warm tea laced with poison. "Such a pretty name for a boy buried beneath frost and shadows."
Azrael squinted, uncertain whether she was mocking him or being genuine.
He folded his arms. "What do you want?"
Solara's amber eyes shimmered with something unreadable. "To help. Naturally."
Azrael huffed. "Why would you want to help me?"
"Because, darling," she purred, voice like candlelight in a dark room, "I know what it's like to be cast aside. Thrown away by those who once adored you. Your kingdom fears you, doesn’t it? They call you cursed.”
His silence answered for him.
“And now your sister... Oh, poor thing...” Solara sighed, her expression a crafted blend of sorrow and subtle satisfaction. “She falls ill. You are blamed again, aren't you? Just as they blamed you for everything else."
Azrael looked down, shoulders tense.
“I’ve watched Draconia,” Solara continued, pacing in front of the window. “So pretty from afar. And would you believe another dragon sits on the throne that rightfully belonged to my brother and I?"
"You mean... Some dragon from another Kingdom?" Azrael asked curiously.
Solara dramatically placed a talon against her chest. "Oh no, it's even worse than that. My very own daughter. She betrayed me!"
"So, my dear prince," Solara cooed, voice curling around him like smoke, “what do you say? You help me and my brother gain our throne back, and I will see to it that you get the recognition you rightfully deserve.”
Azrael stared at her for a long, heavy moment. The frost on the window caught the glint of fire in her eyes, gold and cruel and captivating. He turned his gaze toward the thick wooden door—locked tight, as always.
Then back to Solara.
“…Are you going to get me out of here?” he asked quietly.
Solara’s lips curled into a wicked little smirk. “But of course.”
Her eyes gleamed.
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