The air was warm, almost sweet, carrying the faint scent of iron and blooming stone. Somewhere beyond the cavern walls, a steady wind breathed through, rustling the silk drapes that hung beside a terrace carved into the mountain itself. Beyond that open edge stretched a world that should not have existed: blue skies, scattered clouds, and the golden glow of a false sun that bathed the cliffs and the distant city below.

  Light poured through the opening and spilled across the marble floor, painting its way to a vast bed at the center of the chamber. It was enormous, large enough to swallow two queen-sized frames, covered in sheets that shimmered faintly when they caught the light. Around it, the rest of the chamber stood almost bare: no clutter, no excess, only quiet elegance sculpted into stone.

  James lay sprawled across the bed, still asleep, one arm dangling from the side as if gravity had finally won its argument. His hair stuck out in every direction, and the steady rise and fall of his chest was the only sound that didn’t echo.

  A few steps away, two figures stood near the glowing symbols etched into the floor. One was Villen, arms crossed, his composure carved as sharply as the pillars around him. The other was shorter, broad-shouldered, his beard braided with silver rings that jingled when he spoke.

  “Lord Villen,” the dwarf said, voice like gravel polished smooth. “When your niece, the Queen, hears of this, she will not be pleased. I mean no disrespect, but bringing a human here is—”

  “Relax, Nyindnir,” Villen interrupted softly. “When he wakes, you will understand why.”

  Nyindnir frowned. “With respect, my lord, you know her temper better than anyone. The Queen—”

  The great stone doors behind them shuddered before he could finish. A low hum filled the chamber, a resonance that crawled across the walls. Then the doors opened with a groan that rolled like thunder through the mountain.

  Light and power entered first, then the woman who carried both.

  She was radiant and terrible, as if beauty itself had remembered it could kill. Her gown was light, almost translucent, silver threads clasped at her shoulders by two dragons wrought in metal. Her skin glowed pale as moonlight, her hair black as the night that framed her violet eyes, eyes that burned with the certainty of command.

  Rennalinda.

  “Uncle,” she said, voice cutting through the air like a blade wrapped in silk. “Tell me I have heard wrong. Tell me you have not brought a human into our home.”

  The sound of her anger broke the stillness. James stirred, groaning softly as his consciousness caught up to the noise. His eyes blinked open.

  “Huh? Where the hell am I?” he mumbled, sitting up halfway.

  Her gaze snapped toward him, disbelief twisting into fury. “You actually did it. You brought him here. Guards, bring me his head. Or prepare to lose your own beside it.”

  James froze, caught somewhere between sleep and nightmare. Then his eyes found her, the woman framed by the door, her silhouette bathed in light. His voice came out without his permission.

  “I’m dead,” he whispered. “Yeah. Definitely dead.” He blinked again. “Because no living man gets greeted by something that beautiful.”

  Rennalinda halted mid-stride. “What did you just say?”

  She didn’t move. She vanished. The air snapped where she had stood, leaving behind a faint distortion that shimmered like heat haze. In less than a heartbeat she was there, the wind of her arrival tugging at the sheets as her hand reached for his throat.

  Before her hand could close around him, Villen was there. His grip caught her wrists just as the air around them quivered. Cracks spiderwebbed faintly across the marble beneath his boots, the sheer weight of her aura forcing him to brace.

  “Rennalinda,” Villen said, calm yet strained. “Please. Listen to me before you act.”

  James swallowed, eyes still wide. I’m going to die, he thought. But at least it’s the prettiest murder I’ve ever seen.

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  The air turned sharp again, charged with heat that wasn’t from any fire. Rennalinda’s eyes burned like twin amethysts as she tore her wrists free of Villen’s grasp.

  “Traitor,” she hissed. “You betrayed your queen, your blood, your brother. Nothing you say will matter.”

  Villen didn’t move. “Rennalinda, please. This human is different.”

  “They are never different.” Her voice rippled through the room, cracking faintly like glass under strain. “All of them greedy. All of them liars.”

  “This one knows nothing,” Villen said quietly.

  “Lies. He must have deceived you. By now their armies are already marching for our gates.”

  “He was unconscious when I brought him,” Villen answered, tone still measured. “And I caught a trace of Wokzalcoatl’s scent upon him.”

  Rannalinda froze. “The Jade Dragon?”

  From the bed came a sleepy voice. “Lucky Jade Dragon?”

  Both dragons turned toward him at once.

  Villen’s brow tightened. “Where did you hear that name?”

  “Huh?” James blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

  Rennalinda stepped closer, shadows bending with her movement. “If you value your life, answer.”

  James rubbed the back of his neck. “Believe it or not, someone gave me a cookie. Or maybe the restaurant did. Hard to tell where the person ends and the takeout begins. The place was called Lucky Jade Dragon Wok. Great rice, terrible choking hazard.”

  Rennalinda glanced at Villen, her anger shifting into confusion. “Do you understand a word of that?”

  Villen exhaled. “A little. I met him recently, and since then he often speaks in riddles. He cooks dishes no one has ever tasted and wields a power I cannot name.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Then he is dangerous.”

  “If he truly bears Jade Dragon’s mark, we cannot harm him.”

  James raised a hand timidly. “Hate to interrupt the family drama, but could we tone down the extermination talk? You’re making it sound like I’m a cockroach on the kitchen floor, and that’s… emotionally damaging.”

  Both of them stared at him with identical dragon disdain.

  James sighed. “Why is it that every dragon I meet has homicide listed under hobbies? Actually, wait, this wouldn’t even be the first time.”

  Death by fortune cookie, coming full circle, he thought grimly.

  Rennalinda’s eyes widened a fraction. “So you truly met the Jade Dragon…”

  “Met might be a strong word,” James said carefully. “Let’s call it… a takeout interaction.”

  Villen allowed himself a faint smile. “You see? Not like the others.”

  “Or he’s pretending,” Rennalinda snapped.

  “Perhaps,” Villen said, “but his lies are small, and mostly about his past.”

  James turned, scandalized. “Hey, hey, ever heard of privacy?”

  Then, looking back at Rennalinda, he added in a rush, “Also, um, could you maybe take one step back? You’re kind of invading my personal space. Not that I mind beautiful women nearby, obviously, I’ve known plenty, uh, I mean—”

  “James,” Villen said flatly, “if you wish to keep your tongue, learn when to stop using it.”

  James shut his mouth. For once, he thought, the dragon has a point.

  Rennalinda’s gaze stayed fixed on Villen. “Then tell me, Uncle. Why bring him here?”

  Before he could answer, James risked a glance. His breath stalled.

  She wasn’t just beautiful. Beautiful was a word too fragile for her. The soft light from the terrace clung to her like silk, tracing every curve of her body beneath the translucent gown. The faint gleam on her skin made her look sculpted from moonlight itself. Her hair spilled down her back in dark waves, and when she turned slightly, the motion of it could have rewritten poetry. His throat went dry. Oh no, he thought. That’s it. Game over. Heart stolen, no refund.

  Villen’s voice broke the trance. “Because he possesses a peculiar talent, one I’ve never seen before. Thanks to it, he created an extraordinary drink. He calls it coffee.”

  Rennalinda blinked. “Coffee?”

  “Yes,” Villen said. “It may sound trivial, but once tasted, it changes everything. It restores strength, sharpens focus, lifts fatigue. I drank it myself. For hours afterward I felt capable of leading armies.”

  Nyindnir tilted his head. “A potion, then?”

  “Not like any potion we know,” Villen replied. “Its creation costs dearly, but its effect is unmatched.”

  The dwarf stroked his beard, eyes narrowing in curiosity. He sniffed the air as if expecting to smell the brew already. “If I could study it, perhaps I could reproduce something similar. You would allow me a taste, Lord Villen?”

  “That’s why I brought him,” Villen said. “So he could teach us the craft. If I’m right, this drink could alter the balance of power itself.”

  Nyindnir’s expression turned solemn. “Then it must not fall into the wrong hands.”

  Rennalinda crossed her arms, her gaze cutting back to James. “Human, is what my uncle says true?”

  James raised a hand weakly. “Uh, technically, the name’s James. But if calling me human helps you sleep at night, go ahead. And yes, that caffeine rush? That’s the real deal.”

  Nyindnir frowned. “Caffeine?”

  James squinted at him. “Wait, are you a dwarf? Master smiths, legendary craftsmen, builders of impossible things?”

  The dwarf blinked. “You seem unusually wise for a human.”

  James grinned. “Can you blame me? I can’t believe I’m meeting a real dwarf. What’s next, elves?”

  Everyone stared at him as if he’d just confessed to speaking in tongues.

  James cleared his throat. “Right. Anyway, if you’ll allow me, I can show you what coffee truly is.”

  Rennalinda’s eyes lingered on him, searching for deceit. James met her gaze for the first time without flinching, though his pulse beat like a drum in his ears. She was still impossibly beautiful, terrifyingly so, and somewhere beneath the fear, something warm and inconvenient had already taken root.

  “Prove it then, human,” she said at last, her tone cold but edged with curiosity. “Brew your miracle drink.”

  Author’s Note

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