Page 49 of Song of the Heart Scale (The Dragon’s Ballad #3)

ARYA

I t was Saturday night and I was doing something I never thought I’d be doing in a realm without proper nobility, moonstone goblets, or magical duels.

I was on a couch. In sweatpants. Watching a movie.

I don’t even remember what it was called—something loud and full of explosions.

The lead actor kept removing his shirt for no apparent reason, which Angie didn’t seem to mind.

She was curled up on the other end of the sofa with a bowl of popcorn balanced on her knees, grinning like this was the pinnacle of civilization.

“See? I told you action movies are fun!” she said, tossing popcorn into her mouth.

“It's just men grunting and defying the laws of physics you taught me,” I replied, making a face. “And what is this obsession with slow-motion?”

“It’s cinematic!”

I scoffed. “It’s absurd. No one rolls away from an explosion in that many spirals unless they’re on fire.”

She snorted. “You’re impossible.”

“And you are far too easily entertained.”

Still, I didn’t hate it. Not entirely.

Angie glanced at me then, her face softened by the dim glow of the television. There was something in her eyes—a warmth I hadn’t earned, but maybe hadn’t completely repelled, either. The air between us had grown quieter over the last few weeks. Familiar. And maddeningly comfortable.

“Arya…” she said.

But before she could complete her thought, the front door burst open.

Literally. It slammed against the wall, and I was halfway to grabbing the nearest lamp to use as a weapon when a pair of figures came tumbling in.

One was tall and broad-shouldered, soaked to the bone, with hair as black as a crow's wing and eyes of obsidian.

The other was me.

Or rather— her .

“Holy shit!” Angie whispered, standing up so fast she knocked the popcorn bowl to the floor.

My eyes met hers—Cat's. My double. My mirror.

We both just stared. Like two paintings of the same woman who'd been hung in different wings of a gallery and had finally been brought face-to-face.

It was unsettling.

And infuriating that even soaked in rainwater and wearing attire from my world, she still looked like she'd walked out of a battlefield fashion show.

“So this is what you've been doing?” I said, eyeing her flatly. “Gallivanting around and dragging mud into people's homes?”

Cat huffed. “Nice to see you too, Arya.”

Damien stepped forward, steam practically rising from his skin. Literally. His shirt was torn, and he looked like he’d just wrestled a wyvern. Probably had.

“Arya,” he said with that deep, dragon-rumbling voice of his.

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly pulled a muscle. “Oh, excellent. The royal lizard has arrived. Aren’t you supposed to be in exile or something? Or better yet, with my sister?”

“We don’t have time for this!” Cat snapped. She turned to me. “If you want to go back, the portal is open. But only for a short time. It only opens from Elaria’s side. We got lucky this time.”

My stomach turned. I blinked. “Wait—what?”

“It’s now or never,” Cat said. “I know this isn’t how you wanted it, but if you miss this chance, you might be stuck here. Forever.”

The room tilted. Not literally. But it felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath me. Angie was still beside me, though now she looked like someone had punched her in the chest.

“You have to go?” Angie asked softly.

“I—”

I looked between them. The wild-eyed, dirt-smudged version of myself. Prince Damien, standing like some stoic pillar of fate. And Angie, her arms folded tightly across her chest, like if she let go, something would break.

“This world is insane,” I said. “There are no attendants. No gowns. No proper titles.”

“No dragons,” Cat added.

“Exactly.”

I swallowed hard. “But... I’ve grown rather fond of your kingdom of chaos,” I murmured, my gaze sliding to Angie.

She tried to smile. And failed.

“I don’t belong here,” I added quickly, before I could hesitate. “You know I don’t.”

Angie nodded once. It was small. Devastating.

Cat reached out and handed me something—a small vial of silvery liquid.

“To steady you before you pass through. Just drink it at the lake. Malachar gave it to me.”

I took it. “Is… is he staying?” I pointed to Prince Damien.

Cat nodded. “He is. There’s also… uh, some things you should know before you go,” she said.

“Maeve, she was… the absolute best. She really helped me pretend to be you while I was there. A lot happened. You can ask the new emperor, Royal Prince Bai when you get there and he’ll tell you what happened in excruciating detail.

But you should know that Maeve died a hero. She died for me.”

I stood there frozen, absorbing the rapid-fire flow of information. “She… died ?”

Cat nodded again. “Also, your dad? He’s a piece of shit.

The moment Gianna told him I wasn’t you, the two of them teamed up to make my life hell.

Gianna is beyond evil, and your father is not far behind.

Be careful of them when you return. I spent some of your hidden money, but most of it is still intact at the beach house.

I had the warlock, Garrick place a protective ward on the house to protect it. ”

I swallowed deeply, realizing just how much Cat had gone through while I was here… putting make-up on vapid, petty influencers.

“And Jacob… he’s great,” Cat finished. “Protect him. He still thinks I’m you and protected me the whole time. He’s a great brother.”

For the first time in my life, I was rendered speechless. I always had something snide to say, but for once, I had nothing. This was surely an abbreviated version, and I wondered if I would ever learn all that Cat had endured while pretending to be me.

“Now go! You don’t have much time!” Cat hurried me toward the door. “Angie, take her to the lake. That’s where the portal is. The lake where I did my stunt.”

I turned, my trembling hand on the doorknob. “Cat… thank you.” I grabbed the old hoodie Angie always left hanging by the door, knowing the night air was cold and not wanting to freeze. And also, to take a piece of her with me after I was gone.

Outside, the rain had eased into a fine mist as Angie drove me, gripping the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. The drive to the lake was longer than I remembered. Or maybe it just felt that way. Neither of us spoke much.

Occasionally, I glanced over at her. Her face was set in a grimace. “You don’t have to look like you're delivering me to the gallows,” I finally said.

She gave a weak chuckle. “Feels like I am.”

With every mile that slipped behind us, the harder it became to breathe.

I stared out the window and tried to memorize everything—the lampposts, billboards, and the eerie glow of the city at night, trying to soak in all the things I’d come to know.

And, if I was honest with myself, the person I’d begun to become here.

Angie parked near the edge of the lake. Sparkling mist clung to the trees and the thin strip of water shimmered faintly beyond them.

I got out and wrapped the hoodie tighter around myself. “This is it.”

Angie didn’t answer.

We walked together toward the water in silence. Once we reached the edge, I turned to her.

“You’ve been... tolerable,” I said.

Angie laughed quietly and ran a hand through her hair. “You’ve been... kind of unforgettable.”

Something thick settled in my throat. I looked at her— really looked at her—and for a second, I wanted to say something else. Something final. Something that could possibly make this ache feel less like a wound and more like a ribbon tying us together across impossible realms.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I reached forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Not rushed. Not polite. Just... honest.

“Tell Monica I’m still not doing that stunt job.”

She sniffled. “I’ll tell her you were tragically abducted by an interdimensional portal.”

I gave a short, breathy laugh.

“Arya?” she said.

I turned to face her.

“Be safe.”

“I always am.”

I wasn’t. But I wanted her to think so.

I stepped into the lake with the vial clutched in my hand. When the water was waist high, I quickly downed it before I could change my mind.

In the depths of the water, the portal shimmered to life, golden and pulsing. Like a heartbeat. A door opening. A final breath.

I looked back one last time. “Don’t forget me.”

Angie didn’t say anything. She just stared, her eyes wide and shining, her lips parted like she wanted to call me back.

But she didn’t.

She nodded. Once.

And that was enough.

With my chin high and heart pounding, I walked into the light.

I didn’t look back.

But I knew she did.