Page 13 of Song of the Heart Scale (The Dragon’s Ballad #3)

CAT

T he knock on my door came just as I was halfway through pacing a trench into the rug.

“My lady?”

Maeve's voice. Soft. Cautious.

I exhaled and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Come in.”

The door creaked open and she entered. Her hair was still damp from her bath and her expression was too carefully neutral. That alone told me something was wrong.

“You’ve been pacing for over an hour,” she said gently.

“That’s because I’m trying not to punch a hole through the wall.”

She gave a tight-lipped smile. “That would be frowned upon. Especially considering you're still technically betrothed to the emperor’s heir.”

“Former heir, now emperor,” I corrected, then grimaced. “I think? God, none of this makes sense.”

Maeve crossed the room, poured water into a glass with hands that only slightly trembled, and handed it to me. I took it but didn’t drink.

I hadn’t stopped thinking about Damien since last night, when he vanished into the night without a word, cloaked in shadows and worry. I’d heard nothing since. No whisper. No message. Not even a raven.

“Do you think he's alright?” I asked, finally voicing the question that had been gnawing at me. There’d been rumors around town that the third prince had left exile and gone to Dragon Valley for the first time in his life.

Maeve didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I think if anyone can vanish into a palace full of enemies and walk back out breathing, it’s him.”

I nodded, but the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen.

The empire was unraveling, and here I was, stuck in a borrowed identity with enemies on every side. Lord Zacharia was watching me more closely than ever. Gianna was quiet—too quiet. And Jacob... poor Jacob still thought I was sister, Arya.

I hated lying to him the most.

“I need to get out of this room,” I said abruptly.

Maeve blinked. “Where do you plan to go?”

“Anywhere but here.” I crossed to the window and pushed the curtains aside. The sky was heavy with clouds, painting everything in a bruised gray tint. “Maybe the training yard. Or the stables.”

“The stables? You don’t even know how to ride a horse!”

“I just need to move.”

“Very well,” she said. “But let me fetch your cloak. If you’re going to storm off into the unknown, best do it warmly.”

I shot her a grateful look.

As she rummaged through the armoire, I allowed one last glance out over the courtyard, wondering where Damien was. Wondering if he’d found what he was looking for.

And wondering what would happen if he did.

The stables sat at the edge of the Ryder residence, nestled between the old training yard and the steep slope that overlooked the River Elara.

By the time Maeve and I stepped outside, a thin mist had begun to curl through the cobblestones, drifting to the ground in a soft, silvery veil.

I tugged my cloak tighter around my shoulders and marched ahead, embracing the cool air that bit into my skin.

“I don’t like this, my lady,” Maeve said, quickening her pace to keep up. “Things feel... off .”

“Yeah, that’s because everything is off,” I muttered. “The emperor’s dead, the entire court’s balancing on the edge of a sword, and I’m one sarcastic remark away from throttling Zacharia with a dinner napkin.”

Maeve gasped, scandalized. “You cannot say things like that out loud!”

“We’re outside. Alone. And besides, I say plenty of worse things in my head.”

When I pushed open the stable doors, the earthy scent of hay, horse, and leather grounded me.

The space was warm and quiet—save for the occasional snort or shuffle from one of the stallions.

I stepped inside and inhaled deeply. This was far from home, but it was better than gilded halls filled with fake smiles.

Maeve lingered near the entrance, eyes scanning the grounds behind us.

“Relax. No one’s going to—”

“Arya!”

Jacob’s voice cut through the stillness, sharp with urgency. I turned just in time to see him appear from the side corridor, his expression wide-eyed and anxious. Before I could say a word, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into one of the empty stalls, shutting the gate behind us.

“Jacob, what—”

“Shh!” he hissed, glancing around like the straw-covered shadows were harboring spies. “You haven’t heard?”

I blinked at him. “Heard what?” I knew what he was going to say. Of course I’d heard. I heard before any of them did. But I had to pretend I didn’t know. I was Lady Arya, the spoiled brat who was sequestered in the Ryder residence. How could I have possibly found out?

He looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “The emperor! Arya, the emperor is dead .”

I gasped and clutched the edge of the stall gate. “What?”

“Keep your voice down,” he whispered, moving closer.

“It was just announced an hour ago. The entire district is in an uproar. No one knows how he died, though the palace told the public it was of natural causes. But Father said otherwise. There’s speculation already—poison, dark magic, assassination. I don’t think Thorne was prepared.”

“Oh my g—I mean, by the Immortals!” I murmured, forcing just enough awe into my voice to sell it. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

Jacob exhaled sharply and pushed a hand through his hair, pacing a small, frustrated circle in the straw. “Father’s fuming. He says the wedding is being delayed indefinitely for now. Apparently, the council wants to observe the proper mourning rituals of one year.”

“Oh, no,” I deadpanned. “What a tragedy. However will we survive such an unfortunate delay?”

Jacob paused mid-pace and shot me a sideways look. “You’re not upset?”

I shrugged. “About the wedding? Not even a little. I wasn’t exactly jumping up and down to order a floral arrangement.”

“Arya,” he said softly, stepping closer again. “This is serious. The court is going to spiral. Everyone’s choosing sides. If Thorne isn’t crowned immediately, someone else might make a play for the throne. The other noble houses won’t stay quiet for long.”

“I know,” I said. “Which is why you should be careful. Especially around Father.”

Jacob frowned. “Why? What do you mean?”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “Just... he’s not the man you remember. And you trust too easily.”

His eyes narrowed. “You sound like someone who doesn’t trust anyone.”

“I don’t,” I said, not bothering to sugarcoat it.

Jacob sighed, then reached out and took my hand. “I don’t care what’s happening at court. I don’t care about weddings or councils or crowns. I just want you to be safe. I want all of us to be safe.”

My heart gave a painful squeeze. The sincerity in his voice, in his expression, was like a knife twisting through my ribs.

“I promised myself after I returned that I’d protect you,” he continued. “That I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Jacob...”

“I know things have changed. You’ve changed. But I meant what I said. You’re my sister, and I’ll stand with you. Always.”

I looked down at our joined hands as guilt crawled up my throat like bile. He truly believed I was his sister. He believed I was Arya, even though I was nothing like the sister he’d last seen two years ago.

And here I was, a fraud. A woman from another world, spinning lies as easily as a spider spun silk.

“Thank you,” I whispered, because I couldn’t say the truth.

He smiled, warm and relieved. “We’ll get through this together.”

I nodded and squeezed his hand before pulling away. “I should get back. Maeve’s probably pacing a trench outside the stables.”

He opened the stall gate for me. “Be careful, Arya.”

“I always am.”

But as I stepped back into the daylight with a heart laden with guilt and my mind racing with secrets, I knew it was a lie.

A soft shuffling outside the stall drew our attention.

Maeve stood there, her cheeks flushed crimson, eyes darting between Jacob and me before firmly settling on the hay-strewn floor.

“M-my lady,” she stammered, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

“I apologize for the interruption, but—” Her voice faltered when Jacob looked directly at her.

“It's alright, Maeve,” I said. “What is it?”

Maeve swallowed visibly. “Lady Gianna,” she whispered, still not meeting Jacob's eyes, though I could see her stealing glances at him. “She's headed this way. I saw her leaving the main house. She seems... determined.”

“Damn it,” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “That's all I need right now.”

“My lady?” Maeve's gaze remained fixed on the hay-strewn floor, though her eyes occasionally flickered toward Jacob. “Should I perhaps tell her you've gone to the gardens instead?”

“It’s no use.” I sighed and brushed straw from my skirts.

Jacob’s brow furrowed. “I don't understand why you two can't get along. You’ve always been at each other’s throats, but it seems like things have worsened. What happened between you sisters?”

The word sisters made something twist painfully inside me. I bit back a bitter laugh. Sister . The masquerade I'd been forced to maintain was becoming more suffocating by the day.

“It's complicated,” I finally replied, avoiding his gaze. How could I explain that Gianna wasn't actually my sister? That I wasn't Arya? And that Gianna was a total bitch?

“It’s always complicated, isn’t that right, Maeve?” Jacob asked.

Maeve immediately dropped her gaze, her hands and bottom lip trembling. Poor girl had it bad for Jacob, but she could barely speak when he was around. Jesus Christ.

“She's changed,” I said finally. “Gianna used to be so quiet and agreeable. Now it's like she's found her voice, but it's saying all the wrong things.”

“People change,” Jacob said, his voice gentle. “The last two years have been difficult for everyone.”