Page 33 of Song of the Heart Scale (The Dragon’s Ballad #3)

I snapped my fingers. “That’s where I heard it! Maeve mentioned him.”

Damien stiffly nodded.

I hummed. “I guess that brings us to step two.”

Damien arched a brow. “Which is?”

“Should I talk to Jacob?”

He blinked at me. “Your sort-of brother? The one who still thinks you’re Arya?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Him.”

He frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I won’t tell him anything; I’ll just feel him out. See where his loyalties lie.”

Damien hesitated.

“I won’t risk anything,” I said. “Promise.”

He let out a breath. “Fine. But I want to be nearby when you do.”

I sighed. “Don’t worry, Damien. It’s Jacob. He won’t do anything to me.”

We were quiet for a while. Pale light from the moon filtered through the windows, illuminating the room with blue shadows. I heard the faint rustle of leaves outside, the occasional hoot of an owl—normal sounds that felt out of place in a world teetering on the brink of chaos.

I turned my head, watching his profile. “You’re really not gonna let Garrick help?”

“No warlock,” he repeated more firmly. “I’m a dragon. I heal quickly. There’s no need to bother him.”

I didn’t push. I couldn’t. Not when I was hiding something from him, too.

He didn’t know what Garrick and I had already planned—the idea that sparked like lightning in the dim corners of The Gilded Serpent. Propaganda. Subversion. A people’s uprising through whispers and songs.

He didn’t know yet.

But he would.

Just not tonight.

For now, I rested my head on his shoulder, comforted by the steady beat of his heart beneath bruised skin. “You’re really going to talk to Lord Mercer?”

“I have to. The Nightwing army was my father’s most elite force. If we can sway them to our side...”

“Then we’ve got a shot.”

He nodded. “It’s a long one, but yeah.”

I tilted my head to look at him. “Do you ever think we’re just two idiots trying to take down an empire with duct tape and hope?”

He smirked. “What’s duct tape?”

“Exactly.”

His laugh rumbled low and soft, and for a moment, the weight of everything faded.

I kissed the underside of his jaw. “Get some rest, Shadow Prince. I’ll keep watch.”

“I thought you were the one who needed protecting.”

“I’m a woman of many talents.”

He hummed. “I’m starting to believe it.”

As his eyes drifted shut, I watched him breathe, my fingers still tightly wrapped around his.

Tomorrow would come soon enough, but tonight, he was here. He was alive. And that was all that mattered.

The carriage wheels crunched against the gravel drive of the Ryder estate, and for the first time in days, my stomach twisted—not with hunger, but nerves.

Maeve sat across from me with her hands primly folded in her lap, though I caught the subtle way her fingers kept adjusting the hem of her cloak. She was nervous, too.

I stepped down first and took a moment to appreciate how the morning sun cast long shadows across the marble steps that led to the heavy double doors.

This was the first time I'd returned since I fought with Lord Zacharia—Arya’s father.

And judging by the tense silence in the air, I was neither expected nor welcome.

Maeve came to my side and stepped ahead of me to lift the ornate brass knocker, letting it fall against the wood with a loud thud. We waited.

A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing a pair of servants dressed in muted house colors. Their eyes widened when they saw me.

“Y-Young Lady Arya!” one stammered. The other swallowed visibly.

Maeve squared her shoulders. “We request an audience with Young Master Jacob. It's urgent.”

The servants looked at each other, their hesitance thick enough to slice with a butter knife.

I let out an exasperated sigh and stormed forward, brushing past them and stepping into the walkway of the courtyard. “Out of my way!” I snapped, channeling every ounce of Arya's imperious haughtiness. “I don’t have time for your stammering.”

Internally, I winced. These servants had nothing to do with the madness brewing inside these walls. But the longer I stood waiting on the doorstep, the more likely it was that Lord Zacharia would be alerted to my presence—and we didn’t have time for that.

Maeve fell into step behind me as we marched down the familiar walkways. Every step echoed like a countdown.

“How long do you think we have before he knows we’re here?” I whispered under my breath.

“Ten minutes, maybe less,” Maeve said. “Servants whisper quickly.”

I snorted. “Great. Add a ticking clock to the drama. Just what I needed.”

When we reached Jacob’s quarters, I didn’t bother knocking. I pushed the door open and strode in like I owned the place.

Jacob jumped to his feet from his writing desk, ink smudging his fingers. “Arya—!”

“We need to talk.” I closed the door behind me while Maeve stood guard outside.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I—after what happened... you shouldn’t be here.”

I stepped forward, keeping my voice low. “I didn’t come to fight.”

Jacob ran a hand through his dark brown hair, which I’d noticed he did when he was stressed. “Father will lose his mind if he finds out.”

I smirked. “Then let’s not give him the chance.”

He looked at me, torn. “Why are you here?”

“Because I needed to see you,” I said, softer now. “To talk to you without him watching. Without any lies.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his honey brown eyes scanning mine for something—truth, maybe. Or a whisper of betrayal. “Okay,” he said finally, motioning to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

I sat.

Jacob leaned forward and perched his elbows on his knees. “You look different.”

“Thanks. I’ve been through the emotional equivalent of a blender.”

His head cocked to the side. “What’s a blender?”

I waved him off. “Never mind.”

He gave a tight laugh. “You’re not the same girl I grew up with.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Maybe not. But I’m still someone who cares about you. Who wants to keep you safe.”

His brows furrowed. “Safe from what?”

A weighty silence fell between us. I couldn’t tell him everything—not yet—but he deserved a sliver of the truth.

“There are things happening in the districts. Dangerous things. I’m sure you’ve heard. Thorne... isn’t who you think he is.”

Jacob’s expression darkened. “I heard rumors about what happened at the enthronement.”

I leaned closer. “And they’re true. The Immortals rejected him as the new emperor, Jacob. What comes next is going to affect all of Elaria.”

His gaze narrowed. “How do you know this?”

“Do you need to ask?” I pointed to his window.

“It hasn’t rained since his enthronement, the crops in Dragon Valley are dying, and the fish in the sea are disappearing.

Soon, a famine unlike any other will hit Elaria…

all because of Thorne. I need to know where you stand, Jacob.

Because things are about to change, and I need to know if you’re with me. ”

“With you on what?” He looked away, his jaw clenched. “You’re asking me to go against my own family. Against our father!”

“No, I’m asking you to stand for what’s right.”

He didn’t answer right away, but he didn’t say no, either.

“We don’t have much time,” I said. “So think fast.”

There was a knock at the door. Maeve’s voice floated through, tense and urgent. “My lady, we need to leave. Now .”

Jacob stood, panic flashing in his eyes. “He’s coming!”

I rose to my feet. “Then don’t say anything. Not yet. Just... think about it. You can help stop this madness. You can save the people.”

He gave a curt nod and I turned to go. As I stepped back into the corridor, Maeve already had the way clear.

We didn’t run. But we walked like hell.

Because I had just poked the hornet's nest.

And I didn’t know how many stingers it had left.

We slipped through the back corridors of the Ryder residence, Maeve stuck to my side like the ever-faithful shadow she was.

The halls were quiet—too quiet for a home filled with noble pretension and secrets tucked into every corner like forgotten cobwebs.

It took everything in me to keep the meeting with Jacob civil, though guilt crawled beneath my skin like a rash.

Lying to him was easy. Living with it was something else entirely.

“The servants’ entrance is just past the kitchens,” Maeve whispered, her eyes sharp and alert. Her hands were tucked inside her cloak.

We were only a few steps from the exit when the low click of boots against the stone floor stopped us in our tracks. I slowly turned, my stomach already clenching with dread.

Gianna .

She stood poised in the hallway like a delicate piece of art, but I knew better now.

The days of her playing the sweet, wide-eyed older sister were over.

Whatever softness she'd once possessed had curdled into something bitter.

Her pale blue gown shimmered in the torchlight, but her expression was all fire and frost.

“Running off again, Arya? Or should I say... whoever you really are?” she drawled, each word laced with venom and satisfaction.

Maeve tensed beside me, but I lifted a hand to stop her. I stepped forward, every inch the woman who'd once faced down a Taliban insurgent with a broken rifle and a mouth full of sass.

“Gianna,” I said, my voice sweet and bright, “shouldn’t you be upstairs with your dolls and lace ribbons? Or did they finally run out of patience with your whining, too?”

She flinched, but her smirk swiftly returned. “Still pretending to be my sister, are you? It's exhausting, isn’t it? Keeping up the charade. You should've taken better care to hide that... thing on your arm.”

I didn’t glance down at the tattoo sleeve hidden beneath my coat.

The one that had set all this in motion.

She’d seen me taking a bath and I couldn’t hide my tattoos fast enough.

It was a monumental error on my part. “Yeah, well, some of us don’t have the luxury of pretending to be sugar and spice when we’re really poison in porcelain. ”

“I wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t for you!” she snarled. “You made me this way!”

I tsked and wagged a finger at her. “Now, now, let’s not play the blame game. I’m just some chick from Los Angeles whose got no skin in the game.”

Gianna scoffed and looked away. “Who are you, anyway?”

I smirked. “Catalina… Cat for short. Nice to formally meet you.”

“I would say the pleasure is all mine, but it’s not. You ruined my life!” she shouted, slamming a hand on her chest for emphasis.

My eyes widened. “Well… that’s a pretty serious accusation. I wouldn’t necessarily say ruined . Maybe jostled… But you know, tomato, tomah-toe.”

Gianna took a step closer and lowered her voice.

“He was mine, you know. For ten years, Damien courted me. Letters, dances, sweet nothings whispered every third Sunday when he could come onto the mainland. And then you showed up, looking like Arya but talking like a drunken merchant’s wife, and suddenly he forgot I existed. ”

“Maybe,” I tilted my head, “you are just that forgettable.”

Also, I really doubted Damien was whispering sweet nothings to her. Good grief, girl.

Her cheeks flamed. She stepped forward until we were toe-to-toe. “You’re not even from here. You're a mistake. An imposter. And I’m going to fix it! I’ll go to the emperor myself. Let him know his younger brother is keeping you tucked away like a dirty secret.”

That was the last straw.

Before Maeve could even blink, I shoved Gianna against the nearest stone pillar and wrapped my hand around her throat.

Her breath hitched, eyes widening in panic as I leaned in and placed my face inches from hers. “You think you can scare me, little girl? I've walked through blood and fought men twice your size who didn’t cry half as loud. You think I won’t snap your pretty little neck to protect what’s mine?”

She clawed at my wrist, feet lightly scuffing against the floor as I tightened my grip.

“I am not Arya. I am Cat , and I'm not soft, and I'm not nice. Arya might have been a spoiled brat, but I’m worse…

I actually bite. So the next time you decide to threaten me, you better make sure you can follow through.

Because if you go running to Thorne, you'll be the first head on the chopping block.

And if you think Damien will protect you after that, you're even dumber than you look.”

Gianna gasped for air, her eyes comically wide. “P-Please,” she begged.

I laughed sarcastically. “ Now you have manners? How ironic.”

Maeve gently touched my elbow. “We need to go, my lady. Now.”

I looked at Gianna one last time, her face turning a little redder with each second. Reluctantly, I released her. She collapsed to the floor in a crumpled heap, gasping for air.

“You’re not even worth the dirt under my boots,” I said coldly. “Remember that.”

Maeve and I didn’t wait for her to regain her senses. We marched to the servants' door, the clang of my shoes echoing through the corridor. Outside, the carriage was waiting, the driver staring forward as though nothing had happened.

I climbed in first, Maeve close behind. The moment the door shut, my hands started to shake.

“You okay?” Maeve asked softly.

I looked out the window as the carriage lurched forward. “Yeah,” I whispered. “Just tired of playing nice.”

She didn’t reply, and we rode in silence for a time. But I could feel it—the shift.

Gianna was no longer an inconvenience.

She was a threat.

And I didn’t have the patience to play games anymore.

Not with the fate of this world hanging in the balance.