Page 21 of Song of the Heart Scale (The Dragon’s Ballad #3)

CAT

S unlight streamed through the gauzy curtains and a golden glow warmed the silk sheets tangled around my legs. I blinked, groggy, momentarily disoriented by how soft everything was. The bed. The lighting. The peaceful hush of a world that, for once, wasn’t on fire.

A breath stirred against my shoulder.

I slowly turned my head.

Damien .

He was still asleep with one arm lazily draped over my waist, his dark hair tousled and falling over his eyes. His lips were slightly parted and his chest rose and fell in the kind of deep, undisturbed rhythm only someone very satisfied—and very exhausted—could manage.

Last night’s memories painted heat across my cheeks. Let’s just say things got a little... unhinged. In the best possible way. Wild kisses. Clothes on the floor. That man’s hands on my skin like he was learning a new language, and I was the dictionary.

I bit my bottom lip to keep from grinning like a total idiot.

Carefully, I eased his arm off me and slid out of bed.

He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like my name and shifted onto his stomach.

I took a moment to drink in the sight of him—naked, muscled, peaceful.

A dragon prince with a mean streak, now curled in my bed like a giant, smug cat.

God help me.

I padded across the room and threw on a silk robe draped over a nearby chair. Not mine, obviously—nothing in this estate was mine—but it was soft and smelled faintly of cedar and something spicy. Damien’s, maybe?

After a quick pit stop in the bathroom to freshen up, I tiptoed out of the room and closed the door behind me with a soft snick.

The hallway was quiet, sunlit, and stupidly regal. Arched ceilings painted with celestial maps, velvet runners so plush I felt guilty stepping on them, and vases that looked older than my entire bloodline.

I wandered aimlessly, taking turns just to see where they led.

Mainly I needed to find Maeve. She had all my clothes and I couldn’t just walk around here wearing nothing but this robe.

Eventually, I passed a pair of tall double doors slightly ajar, with the rich smell of tea and something floral drifting out.

Curiosity piqued, I lightly knocked.

“Enter,” came a voice—calm, low, and unmistakably authoritative.

I pushed the door open.

Royal Prince Bai sat at a carved desk near a tall window.

Sunlight slanted across an array of scrolls, books, and a silver tea service that looked far too elegant for anything involving caffeine.

Even though he looked like he’d been up for hours, his silver-streaked hair was immaculate, his posture relaxed but regal, and his eyes locked on me with quiet curiosity.

“Good morning, Lady Arya.”

“Uh, hi.” I winced. “You can drop the ‘Lady’ thing. I think we’re way past formalities.”

He inclined his head. “Please, come in.”

I stepped inside, feeling underdressed in his presence—even in the silk robe, which I now realized probably looked more like a stolen trophy than something respectful. Still, he didn’t comment.

“I was just making jasmine tea,” he said. “Would you care for a cup?”

“Tea is not really my jam, but sure, why not. It’s not like there’s any coffee around here.” I slid into the seat opposite him.

He poured for both of us, the clink of porcelain soft and precise. “Damien told me,” he said after a moment.

I blinked. “Told you... what?”

“Everything.” He handed me the cup. “Your true name. Your origins. The truth behind your presence in Elaria.”

I stared at him. “Huh.”

It wasn’t the most articulate response, but it beat the full-blown panic attack tap-dancing at the edge of my chest.

“I see,” I said slowly. “So... what? Are you planning to have me burned at the stake or tossed back through the portal?”

His lips twitched. “Neither.”

“Because I don’t do well with flames. Or time-travel. Or mysterious tea, come to think of it.” He seriously could have poisoned me, and I was just about to drink it without thinking twice. Idiot.

“I assure you, the tea is safe.”

I took a cautious sip. Jasmine and honey. Not bad. “So... you’re not mad?”

“Mad? No. Intrigued? Absolutely.”

“Okay, well that’s better than expected. I’m usually more of a ‘cause for concern’ than a curiosity.”

Royal Prince Bai smiled faintly. “You are many things, Cat. But mostly, you are a complication.”

I gave him a flat look. “Thanks. I’ll embroider that on my pillows and towels.”

He set his cup down with a quiet clink. “You must understand. Damien is my nephew. I love him as my own. And you have changed him.”

My throat went tight. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he said softly. “But it is a dangerous one.”

I didn’t answer.

“I do not doubt his love for you,” he continued. “Nor yours for him. But you are not of this world, Cat. And Damien... Damien is . He is… special. He is Elarian. Should he leave, should he cross into your world as you’ve suggested... we don’t know what will become of him.”

“You think he’ll lose his powers?”

“I think it is possible. And without his magic, he may lose more than his strength. He may lose part of himself.”

I stared into my tea and watched as the steam curled like a question mark. “And if he doesn’t?” I whispered.

“Then he will live,” Royal Prince Bai said gently, “forever. In a world that is not his. Watching as the woman he loves grows old and dies. And then he will be alone. Unable to ever come back to Elaria.”

I swallowed, hard. “We haven’t talked about any of that,” I admitted. “We’ve been too busy trying not to die to think about what happens... after.”

“You should think about it now, before the cost becomes something you cannot afford.”

I looked up at him. “You think I should leave without him.”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly, “I think you should go home before it’s too late for both of you. I initially encouraged him to go with you, but I hadn’t thought things through. I understand you’re the twin flame and we’ve been searching for you for decades, but…”

Silence stretched between us, heavy as stone.

I set the teacup down with shaking fingers. “Well, shit,” I muttered.

Royal Prince Bai blinked. “Pardon?”

“Sorry. That’s just... a very my world way of saying, ‘I hadn’t thought this far ahead and now my brain is melting.’”

His mouth twitched again. “Understandable.”

I slowly stood. “Thank you for the tea, Your Highness. And the existential dread. Both were piping hot.”

He inclined his head. “Cat... I mean you no harm.”

“I know,” I said. “But that doesn’t make this any easier.” I walked back to the door, suddenly feeling like the walls were closing in. “And for the record,” I added over my shoulder, “I don’t know if I can go home. Not after everything.”

“Then you must decide,” he said. “Before someone decides for you.”

The door clicked softly shut behind me.

For the first time since arriving in Elaria, I realized that surviving was no longer the hardest part.

Letting go might be.

My feet carried me without direction past polished columns and hanging tapestries, into quieter halls filled with warmth and floral-scented air. I needed a distraction—something that didn’t revolve around dying worlds and eternal loneliness. Preferably something with less tea and more towels.

I found Maeve folding linens in a side corridor that led toward the guest baths. She looked up as I rounded the corner.

“Oh, my lady!” she said, quickly straightening. “I was just about to come find you.”

“Perfect timing. I need a bath and my clothes—unless I’m about to start a new career as a robe thief.”

Maeve chuckled, though her eyes searched mine. “Is everything alright?”

Nope. Not even close.

“Just had tea with Damien’s uncle. Casual chat about life, death, and whether the man I love will explode if he enters a different dimension.”

Oh shit, did I just say love?

Maeve blinked. “I... see.”

“Yeah. So—bath?”

“This way.”

She led me through a small archway and into a bathing chamber that honestly looked like it belonged to a minor goddess. The tub was carved from marble, deep and steaming, with oils and salts lined up on a low shelf nearby. A small fire crackled in the corner hearth.

“Do you need help undressing?” she asked gently.

“I mean, I just survived hand-to-hand combat with Thorne and a royal dressing-down from His Highness down the hall, so... yeah. I think I’ve earned a little pampering.”

Maeve helped me peel off the robe and I lowered my body into the water with a long, grateful sigh. The heat seeped into my bones and melted some of the tension away.

“You’re quiet.” Maeve kneeled to pour scented oil into the water.

“Just thinking.”

“About going home?”

“About what home even means anymore.”

She said nothing, but her fingers found a washcloth and gently ran it down my back. The simple gesture unraveled something in me.

I wasn’t ready. Not to say goodbye. Not to lose this. Not to face a future that meant I might have to live without Damien—or worse, trap him in a life where I’d become the ghost he couldn’t outrun.

And the worst part?

I didn’t know what to do.

Maeve worked quietly for a few more minutes, rinsing my hair and massaging a fragrant oil into my skin that smelled like lavender and something spicy I couldn't name. I closed my eyes and leaned back, basking in the warmth.

“Did you ever think,” I asked after a long pause, “that I’d end up like this?”

She tilted her head. “Like what, my lady?”

“Sitting in a royal bathtub, post-battle, post-coital, having existential crises with tea-drinking royal princes.”

Maeve offered a gentle smile. “You’ve always surprised me. But no, I did not see that coming.”

I cracked one eye open. “Be honest. On a scale of one to total disaster, how close am I to imploding everything?”

She considered. “You're definitely leaning into ‘chaotic storm wrapped in silk.’”

I snorted. “I’ll take it.”

“What did Royal Prince Bai tell you, my lady, that has you so worked up?” Maeve inquired as she scrubbed my body.