Page 50 of Visions of You

"Shut up," Jaron burst out. "Malkira's been more of a mother to me than you ever were!"

His mother flinched as if he'd struck her, and he knew he'd gone too far.

"All I'm trying to say is that she loves me," he said quickly. "For who I am."

The proud dragoness who had birthed him looked at him for a long moment. "And who is that, Jaron? A dragon who can't breathe fire? Who's given up on even trying? A son who turns his back on his family's legacy? Is that who you want to be?"

Jaron didn't have the words to respond to that adequately.

"I'm sorry that I'm not the son you wanted," he said quietly, and then, for a long moment, neither of them said anything.

Finally, his mother pushed past him. "Casca?" she called. "It's time to go home."

Jaron watched helplessly as his mother grabbed Casca's arm, pulling him towards the door. Casca shot Jaron a pleading look. He obviously didn't want to go, but his teenage bravado had left him, and he didn't dare speak up against their mother's wrath.

"Let's go," their mother snapped coldly. "We'll discuss this further at home."

Casca hung his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he allowed himself to be dragged away.

Jaron wished there was something he could do, but for now, there wasn't. Even if he'd tried to stop her from taking Casca, she was rich and powerful, and the authorities would be here to take his underage brother home within the hour.

As the door slammed shut behind them, Jaron let out a frustrated growl, his fists clenching at his sides.

Huffing, he stalked back to the couch and snatched up his mug of hot chocolate, taking a long swig of the now-lukewarm liquid. It did little to soothe his frayed nerves as he sank back into the cushions, his mind racing with thoughts of Casca and their mother's stubborn refusal to see beyond her own expectations.

Minutes ticked by as Jaron stared blankly at the TV screen, not really seeing the movie that still played. His phone buzzedbeside him, and he glanced down to see a text from his mother. His stomach twisted with dread as he opened the message, finding a link to an old news article.

Frowning, Jaron clicked on the link, his confusion growing as he scanned the headline: "Local Witch Implicated in Deadly Disease Outbreak." The article detailed accusations against Malkira, claiming she had been involved in the creation of a potent disease that had escaped from a magical research facility where she worked at the time.

The virus had come to be known as the scarlet curse.

Jaron's blood ran cold.

He'd heard of that disease, of course. Every citizen of this kingdom had. It was the disease that had befallen their late king, as well as his son, their current ruler.

But Malkira couldn't have had anything to do with it.

She'd always been kind and nurturing to him. Not the sort of person who'd spend her time inventing deadly diseases—nor the sort of person who'd unleash those diseases on the public.

Jaron scanned the article without taking in much of the information.

The key part was that Malkira hadn't been prosecuted. She hadn't been found guilty of anything.

His mother was just grasping at straws, bringing old rumors back to life in order to make Malkira look bad.

Even as Jaron set the phone aside, though, the story wouldn't leave his head.

And this was the real reason Jaron didn't wind up going to visit Keegan that evening. He waited for Malkira to come home so he could ask her about the news article, hoping she wouldn't feel insulted by his curiosity.

When Malkira finally returned home, her arms laden with bags of herbs and ingredients, Jaron approached her cautiously. "Hey, can we talk for a minute?"

Malkira set her bags down on the kitchen counter and turned to face him, her brow furrowed with concern. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

Jaron hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. "My mom sent me an article," he began, his voice trailing off as he tried to find the right words. "It was about you and some kind of disease outbreak a long time ago." He hesitated. "The scarlet curse?"

Malkira's face paled, but she gestured at the kitchen table. "Take a seat."

Jaron swallowed and did as he was told. He'd almost wanted her to deny all accusations outright, but maybe it was better to have a proper talk about this.