Page 27 of Song of the Heart Scale (The Dragon’s Ballad #3)

I reluctantly pulled away from Damien, though my fingers lingered on his arm. “Yeah, nothing says 'let's talk about an evil emperor' like dinner and dessert.”

Royal Prince Bai's lips twitched, almost a smile. “The kitchen prepared spiced duck.”

“Trying to soften the blow of apocalyptic news with poultry? Smart move.”

The dining room felt different when we returned—heavier somehow. The staff exchanged nervous glances before Royal Prince Bai dismissed them with a gentle wave of his hand. Only Maeve remained, hovering near the doorway until I nodded at her to stay.

“Bring wine,” Royal Prince Bai instructed. “The Ardisian reserve.”

“The good stuff, huh?” I muttered as Maeve left and returned swiftly with the wine.

The table had been reset for the three of us—an intimate gathering compared to the full staff that sat there earlier. Steam rose from covered silver platters and candlelight flickered across the walls, making shadows dance like restless spirits.

I slid into a chair, watching as Damien took the seat opposite me.

His fingers slightly trembled as he reached for his goblet, the wine inside sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

His uncle sat at the head of the table, his weathered face a mask of practiced neutrality that couldn't quite hide the worry lines around his eyes.

“So,” I said, stabbing a piece of duck with unnecessary force, “are we going to talk about the elephant in the room, or just pretend the new emperor didn't just go full Joffrey Baratheon on his coronation day?”

Damien's brow furrowed. “I don't understand the reference, but I assume it's unflattering.”

“Let's just say that where I come from, forcing people to kneel at sword-point is generally considered a red flag in leadership.”

I took a bite of the succulent duck, savoring the rich blend of spices that danced across my tongue.

Despite everything, I was surprised the food was good.

I’d struggled to find food that suited my taste buds since arriving in this strange world.

Tonight’s dinner was a small mercy in a world that seemed determined to throw curveballs at me.

“Well, exactly how bad are things on a scale of one to Chernobyl?” I asked with a mouthful of duck.

Royal Prince Bai's brow furrowed. “Cher-no-byl?”

“It's a—never mind.” I waved my hand dismissively. “Earth reference. Big disaster. Lots of radiation. Bad juju for centuries.”

Damien met my eyes across the table. “Then yes, it's very much like your Cher-no-byl.”

“Thorne's always been... difficult ,” Royal Prince Bai said, delicately placing a slice of braised vegetable onto his plate. “But today exceeded even my darkest expectations.”

Damien pushed his food around his plate, his appetite clearly absent. “There's more,” he said quietly. “Something I haven't told either of you.”

I paused mid-chew, my fork suspended halfway to my mouth. “More? As in, more than 'the ground rejected him and he threatened mass execution'? Because that already feels like we've hit our quota of terrible news for the day.”

Thunder rumbled outside, as if punctuating my statement. I glanced toward the window, hoping for rain, but there was still nothing but the persistent, teasing rumble.

“I visited Malachar,” Damien said, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. “After the enthronement.”

Royal Prince Bai's fork and knife clattered against his plate. “You did what ?”

“Let me get this straight. You snuck into the palace,” I leaned forward, “where the dead emperor is still lying around like weekend leftovers? That's either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.”

“Perhaps both,” Damien admitted with a grim smile.

“How? Today the palace should have been under more security than the other day. He's been kept under guard since—” Prince Bai started.

“Since he discovered the truth about the emperor's death,” Damien finished. “I know. I had to... improvise my way past the guards.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Improvise? Is that Shadow Prince speak for 'knocked them unconscious'?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Damien's face. “Nothing so dramatic. They'll wake with nothing worse than a headache.”

I nodded approvingly. “Very Mission Impossible of you.”

“I had to know what he knew,” Damien said somberly.

“And?” I prompted, my heart speeding up.

Damien set his fork down and looked directly at me, his dark eyes reflecting the candlelight like pools of midnight. “Malachar had a vision. A true vision, not the lies Thorne is telling everyone.”

I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles whitening. “What kind of vision?”

Damien glanced out the darkened window where thunder continued to rumble. “Malachar saw Elaria's future under Thorne's rule. A future where the skies refuse to open.” His voice dropped even lower. “No rain will fall. Not a single drop.”

My stomach plummeted like an elevator with cut cables. “No rain? As in... none ? Ever?”

“For as long as Thorne sits on the throne,” Damien confirmed, pushing his plate away with a grimace. “The lands will dry up. Crops will fail. Rivers will shrink to nothing but dusty beds.”

“A famine,” Royal Prince Bai murmured, his face ashen in the candlelight. “The worst Elaria has ever seen.”

I swallowed hard as the implications smacked me like a freight train. My eyes darted to the window again, where the dry thunder mocked me with its empty promise. “No rain means no storm,” I whispered, more to myself than to them. “No storm means...”

“No way home,” Damien finished, his voice heavy with regret. His eyes met mine across the table, full of a sorrow so deep it made my chest ache. “I'm sorry, Cat.”

I dropped my fork with a clatter. The spiced duck suddenly tasted like ash in my mouth. “So I'm stuck here? Permanently?” My voice cracked on the last word. “Because some power-hungry psychopath decided to steal a crown that doesn't want him?”

Royal Prince Bai reached across the table, his weathered hand covering mine. “Not permanently. Nothing is permanent. Thrones can be challenged. Emperors can fall.”

“Great. So all we need is a coup d'état and maybe I can catch the next interdimensional storm home!” My laugh was bitter, even to my ears. “Simple.”

Damien pushed away his untouched wine. “Malachar risked his life to tell me this. He's still there, you know, locked in with the emperor's body. Thorne keeps him there because he knows...”

“Knows what?” I asked, leaning forward.

Damien's voice dropped to a whisper. “That the emperor was poisoned. By Thorne himself.”

Royal Prince Bai closed his eyes, his expression pained but not surprised. “We suspected as much.”

“Wait.” I held up a hand, trying to process everything.

“So Thorne poisoned his own father, has a hostage seer locked in a room with daddy's corpse, and now the sky is basically giving us all the middle finger because he's emperor and now I’m trapped here?” I laughed, but it came out hollow.

“And I thought my ex ghosting me was the worst thing that could happen.”

Damien frowned. “Ghosting?”

“It's when someone—never mind. Not important.” I rubbed my temples. “So this vision Malachar had—how certain was he? I mean, seers can be wrong, right?”

“Not Malachar,” Royal Prince Bai stated gravely, refilling his wine glass with a steady hand despite the tension crackling in the air. “His visions have never failed. It is why the royal family has kept his bloodline close for generations.”

“Fantastic,” I muttered, pushing away my plate. “So I'm trapped in Elaria until we somehow dethrone the murderous emperor who just seized power today. Cool. Cool cool cool.”

Damien looked at me with confusion. “I don't understand how this situation could be considered 'cool' in any way.”

I couldn't help but smile despite everything. “It's an expression from my world. It means the exact opposite of what it sounds like.”

“Your world has strange ways of communicating,” Royal Prince Bai noted dryly. He took a measured sip of his wine. “Though I must say, I find it refreshing.”

Thunder crashed again, louder this time. I flinched and glanced toward the window. The sky remained clear, stars twinkling mockingly through the glass.

“It's starting already,” Damien said, following my gaze. “The curse.”

I stared at my hands, suddenly feeling very small in this vast, strange world. “So this is it? I'm stuck here while Elaria dries up like a raisin in the sun?”

Damien reached across the table, his fingers brushing mine. “We won't let that happen.”

“How exactly do you plan to stop it? Storm the palace with what army?” I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging at the ends in frustration. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the hero moment, but I'd like some actual details on this master plan.”

Royal Prince Bai cleared his throat. “There are... factions. People loyal to the old ways. Those who saw the omen today and recognized its significance will unite.”

“Great, so we've got some superstitious allies. No offense,” I quickly added, seeing Damien's expression.

“Superstition runs deeper than logic in Elaria,” Damien finished for me, a hint of understanding in his eyes. “These aren't just scared nobles, Cat. These are people with power and influence. People who've been waiting for a sign to act against Thorne.”

I stabbed at a roasted carrot, the vegetable splintering beneath my fork. “And what exactly do we do with these influential friends? Host a resistance book club?”

Royal Prince Bai's lips twitched with something almost like amusement. “We rally them. Quietly, at first. Then—” he made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “—less quietly.”

“A rebellion,” I whispered, the word hanging in the air between us. “You're talking about overthrowing the emperor you just watched get crowned.”

“It wouldn't be the first time in Elaria's history,” Royal Prince Bai said, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. “When emperors lose the mandate of the heavens, change must follow.”

“So let me get this straight.” I counted off on my fingers.

“We need to overthrow a homicidal emperor, rescue a hostage seer who's currently hanging out with a corpse, and somehow make it rain again. All while not getting ourselves killed.” I gave a humorless laugh.

“And I thought my grad school application was ambitious!”

Hence why I never made it to grad school.

Damien's eyes never left mine. “I know it seems impossible.”

“No, impossible was me ending up in this world in the first place. This is just...” I waved my hand in the air.

“When you put it that way...” Damien started, then stopped, looking at me with those impossibly dark eyes. “I'm sorry, Cat. I know this isn't what you wanted.”

“No, what I wanted was to pop back to my world, grab Arya, bring her back, and return home with you for a fairytale ending. Not get caught in a magical drought caused by a patricidal maniac with a god complex.” I rubbed my eyes, suddenly feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me.

“But I guess we play the cards we're dealt.”

The candles flickered as another gust of wind rattled the windows. We all turned to look, that instinctive hope rising before falling just as quickly when no rain followed.

Damien reached across the table and took my hand in his again, his thumb tracing gentle circles against my skin. “We will find a way, Cat. I promise you.”

I looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the determination burning in his eyes, bright and fierce as a flame in darkness. And despite everything, I believed him.

“Well,” I squeezed his hand, “I guess if I'm stuck here, at least I'm stuck with good company.”

Royal Prince Bai raised his wine glass. “To unlikely allies and impossible odds.”