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Tell him. He will respect your wishes.

“I know he would.” Succession was transferred to male heirs. Had been that way throughout his entire family history, but my father had broken that tradition and named me his successor, regardless of my gender. It was historic and touching. My brother never seemed to care about my father’s decision—at least, he didn’t show it.

Then why do you hesitate?

“Because…” I swallowed, feeling the sting in my heart. “Ever since I can remember, he’s trained me to take his place. We’ve sailed together, we’ve sparred together, he’s taught me everything he knows. Without that…I’m not sure how much interest he would have in me.” I took a slow breath and felt the pain once my fear had been released.

Zehemoth didn’t have a changing expression the way humans did, but it was obvious that my words dug deep underneath his scales.Your father loves you, Lily.

“I know he does. But…would he love me as much?”

Yes.

“I’m not so sure…” Our time together was always spent training me. He never asked me about my dreams or my interests. He looked so proud of me, but sometimes I felt like he didn’t really know me. Just knew me as the daughter who would rule this place whenever he decided it was time for him to step aside. I had no other value. “If I told him I didn’t want to rule, he would focus on my brother…and we wouldn’t spend as much time together. If we aren’t sparring or training, then what are we doing?”

Speak to him. I assure you it will subdue the ache in your heart.

“I don’t know… We don’t really talk.”

I’m sure he would change that if he knew the error of his ways. He’s a good man, a loving father, and has simply lost focus.

I shook my head. “I like that he’s proud of me. I like the way he looks at me. If I tell him, he’ll never look at me that way again. I’m not sure I could live with that.” My eyes dropped down to my boots again.

Zehemoth moved closer, bringing the tip of his snout close to my knee.

My hand reached forward and felt the scales of his face, the coolness against my fingertips. I watched Zehemoth’s eyes close as I continued to stroke him, comforting me in the best way he knew how.

By being with me.

Hawk sat across from me at the dinner table, the cards between us. He was five years younger than me, an age gap big enough that we seemed to live in a different era of time. We didn’t have a lot in common.

We played for a while, and I let him win sometimes.

When the night deepened, Mother came into the room. “Time for bed, sweetheart.” She came up behind him and ran her fingers through his hair.

“I want to keep playing.”

“I know,” she said tenderly. “But it’s late.”

“It’s not late for Lily,” he argued.

“That’s because she’s an adult now.” She continued to run her fingers through his hair. “You still have a few years to go.”

“Come on?—”

“Shall I get your father?” she threatened.

My brother poked at the seam with our mother because she was the softer of the two. But my father was the authoritarian of the family, the one who could raise his voice just slightly and the foundations of the castle started to tremble.

Hawk dropped his argument and left his chair.

“Say goodnight to your sister,” Mom said.

“Night,” he said as he walked away, clearly ticked off that I got to stay up as late as I wanted.

She came around the table and kissed my temple as she gave me a one-armed hug. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Mom.”