The horse was too small for him.
Lillian watched Matteo struggle to stay seated on the borrowed mare, his long legs dangling awkwardly, his coat billowing behind him like a ridiculous cape. He looked like a child playing dress-up, and she took a small, petty satisfaction in the sight.
"You're going to fall," she said flatly, adjusting her own mount's reins.
"Impossible. I'm an excellent rider." He shifted, and the mare snorted in protest. "See? Perfect control."
"You're hanging on to the saddle horn like it's a lifeline."
"That's called technique." He grinned at her, silver eyes bright despite the early morning gloom. "You wouldn't understand. You're too busy being perfect at everything."
"I'm not perfect at everything. I'm just competent."
"Competent. Boring." He kicked his horse into a trot, bouncing with each step. "Same thing, really."
Lillian rolled her eyes and followed him down the narrow road. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. The city gates had opened an hour ago, and they had slipped through with minimal questions. Matteo had charmed the guard with a wave and a wink. Lillian had glared until the man looked away.
They were heading north, toward the Forbidden Mountains. The journey would take days, maybe weeks. And every moment they spent traveling was another moment the killer could strike again.
"We should have brought a carriage," she muttered. "Or supplies. Or anything besides a bag of dried meat and your questionable attitude."
Matteo laughed, bright and sharp. "What's wrong with dried meat? It's practical."
"It's also disgusting."
"Then you'll have to make do." He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, wrapped parcel. "Here. I also brought bread. And cheese. And some apples. And a bottle of wine."
She stared at him. "You brought wine?"
"For emergencies." He tucked the parcel back into his coat. "This is an emergency. We're traveling to the most dangerous place in the known world to find a woman who may or may not exist. I think that warrants wine."
"Or a better plan."
"Plans are overrated." He urged his horse forward, falling into step beside her. "You know what's underrated? Trust. In ourselves. In each other. In the fact that we're going to figure this out."
She looked at him, searching for the sarcasm. But there was none. Just that strange, earnest honesty she had glimpsed before.
"You trust me?" she asked quietly.
"I trust you to tell me when I'm being an idiot." He grinned. "Which is often. So you're very useful."
"That's not what I meant."
He was quiet for a moment. Then, softer, "I trust you more than I trust anyone in that Council. And that's saying something."
Lillian felt something shift in her chest. Something warm and dangerous. She pushed it down.
"Then tell me about the Keeper," she said, redirecting. "Everything you know."
Matteo took a breath, his grin fading. "Her name is Elara. She was the Fae advisor to the Dragon Court. The only one who survived the war. She went into hiding after the dragons fell. She's been there for a hundred years."
"And she knows about the silver dragons?"
"She knows everything. The original texts, the forbidden histories, the truth about the betrayal." He looked at her, his eyes dark. "She was there, Lillian. She saw it happen. She knows who betrayed the dragons."
"Then why hasn't she come forward? Why hasn't she told anyone?"
"Because the betrayer is still alive. Still in power." His voice dropped. "And if the truth ever came out, it would destroy everything. The Council, the peace, the fragile alliance that holds the kingdom together."
Lillian felt her blood run cold. "You mean the betrayer is still alive. On the Council."
"I don't know who. But Elara knows." He urged his horse faster. "And she's the only one who can tell us."
They rode in silence for hours, through rolling hills and dense forests. The sun climbed higher, baking the earth beneath them. Lillian's thighs ached from the saddle, and her mind churned with questions.
Three murders. Three races. A dragon's heir on the loose. A Keeper who held all the answers. And a Council that was hiding something.
"What happened at the peace meeting?" she asked finally. "The one that never happened. What was it really about?"
Matteo glanced at her. "The meeting was supposed to be a reconciliation. The descendants of the Dragon War victors were going to sign a formal apology. Give reparations to the Fae. Accept responsibility for the genocide."
"Genocide?" She stared at him. "The dragons weren't killed. They were defeated. There's a difference."
"Is there?" He was quiet for a moment. "The dragons were a proud race, Lillian. Powerful, ancient, magnificent. And the alliance didn't just defeat them. They exterminated them. Every last one. Men, women, children. They burned their nests, destroyed their eggs, hunted down every survivor."
She felt sick. "I never learned any of this. Not in school, not in any history book."
"Because history is written by the victors." He looked at her, his silver eyes burning. "The alliance didn't want anyone to know the truth. So they rewrote history. Made the dragons into monsters. Justified their own actions."
"And the silver dragons? The ones who were betrayed?"
"Silver dragons were the generals. The ones who fought hardest. But there was one among them who wanted peace. Who tried to negotiate an end to the war." He paused. "That dragon was betrayed by someone in the alliance. Someone who wanted the war to continue. And the silver dragon was killed. Along with her entire family."
Lillian felt the pieces click into place. "The killer is a descendant of that silver dragon. They're seeking justice for what happened."
"Or they're seeking revenge." Matteo shrugged. "Same difference, really. Pain is pain."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, "You sound like you sympathize with them."
"I sympathize with anyone who's lost everything." He didn't look at her. "I know what it's like. To have your world taken away. To have no one believe your side of the story."
Lillian studied his profile—the sharp jaw, the haunted eyes, the strange vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. "What happened to you, Matteo? What made you this way?"
He laughed, but it was hollow. "That's a story for another time, partner. Right now, we need to focus on the killer. And the Keeper. And the fact that we're riding into certain death."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he kicked his horse into a gallop, leaving her behind.
They made camp that night in a small clearing, surrounded by ancient trees and the sounds of the forest. Lillian built a fire while Matteo tended to the horses, his movements efficient and almost familiar.
"How much further?" she asked, poking at the flames.
"A few more days. Maybe a week." He sat across from her, his face half-lit by the fire. "The Forbidden Mountains are treacherous. The path is narrow. And Elara's home is hidden behind wards that would kill anyone who doesn't know the way."
"But we'll find it."
"We'll find it because I have this." He pulled out a small, silver medallion from his coat. It was old, tarnished, covered in intricate carvings. "This was hers. From before the war. It's a key. To her home. To her secrets."
Lillian leaned forward, studying the medallion. "She gave it to you?"
"More like I borrowed it." He grinned. "From the Council archives. Where they keep all the forbidden things."
"You stole from the Council again."
"Partner, I steal from the Council every day. It's a hobby." He pocketed the medallion. "It's also how I know the truth about the dragons. And the betrayal. And the war."
"And the killer?"
Matteo shook his head. "Not yet. But the Keeper will know. She'll know everything."
Lillian watched him, her heart heavy with questions. "Matteo. What happened to you? The truth. Not the joke."
He stared at the fire, his face unreadable. "My family was killed. During a purge. A group of mages decided that werewolves were too dangerous to live. They wiped out my entire pack. My parents, my siblings, my cousins. Everyone."
She felt her breath catch. "That's why you became a mage."
"To protect others. To make sure no one else has to go through what I went through." He looked at her, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "And to find the ones who did it."
"The killers? You're still looking for them?"
He nodded slowly. "They're still out there. Still hunting. And I'm still looking." He smiled, but it was bitter. "That's why I understand the killer, Lillian. I know what it's like to want justice. To want revenge. To want to make someone pay for what they took from you."
She reached out and touched his hand, her fingers brushing against his. "You're not like them. You're not a killer."
"Not yet." He looked at her, his gaze intense. "But if I ever found them—"
"You wouldn't." She squeezed his hand. "You're better than that. You're better than them."
He stared at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, his grin returned. "You really believe that, don't you?"
"I believe that people can change. That they can choose to be better." She pulled her hand back, suddenly aware of how close they were. "Even reckless, rule-breaking mages who steal from the Council and teleport without authorization."
He laughed, bright and genuine. "You make me sound almost respectable."
"Don't push it."
They sat in comfortable silence, the fire crackling between them. Lillian's mind was still racing, but for the first time in days, she felt calm. Safe. Like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
"Lillian," Matteo said quietly.
"Mm?"
"Thank you. For trusting me." He looked at her, his silver eyes soft. "I know I'm a lot. I know I'm reckless and difficult and annoying—"
"You're all of those things."
"But you're still here. Still riding into danger with me. Still believing that we can fix this." He smiled, warm and genuine. "That means more than you know."
She opened her mouth to respond, to say something witty and cutting. But the words died in her throat.
Because she heard it again. The whisper. Soft, barely audible, carried on the wind.
"Six more. Six more to fall. The reckoning continues."
Lillian shot to her feet, her hand on her dagger. "Did you hear that?"
Matteo was already standing, his hands crackling with blue lightning. "I heard it. It's coming from the trees."
They spun, scanning the darkness. The forest was silent. Too silent. The crickets had stopped. The birds had stopped. Everything was holding its breath.
And then, from the edge of the clearing, a figure stepped into the firelight.
It was tall, cloaked in shadow, its face hidden beneath a hood. But Lillian could see the hair. Silver-white. Glowing in the firelight like captured moonlight.
"You should not have come here," the figure said, its voice a cold whisper. "You should have stayed away from this investigation."
Matteo stepped forward, lightning dancing in his palms. "Who are you? Show yourself."
The figure laughed, a soft, chilling sound. "You already know who I am. You just can't accept it." It turned, its cloak billowing. "But you will. Soon. When the reckoning is complete."
"Wait!" Lillian lunged forward. "Tell us what you want. Why are you doing this?"
The figure paused. Then, slowly, it turned back to face her.
"Justice," it whispered. "For the ones who were forgotten. For the ones who were murdered. For the dragons who deserved better." It reached up and pushed back its hood.
Lillian's blood turned to ice.
The face beneath the hood was familiar. Too familiar. She had seen it in the Council chambers, at the palace, in her own dreams.
It was Lord Aldric.
Lillian stumbled backward, her heart pounding. "Aldric? No. No, it can't be. You're my mentor. You're the one who taught me everything."
Aldric smiled, cold and empty. "I taught you to follow the rules. To trust the Council. To believe in justice." He stepped closer, his silver-white hair gleaming in the firelight. "But I forgot to teach you the most important lesson."
Matteo stepped in front of her, his hands blazing with lightning. "And what's that?"
Aldric's smile widened. "That justice is a lie. And the only thing that matters is power."
Lillian shook her head, her voice breaking. "Why? Why would you do this? Why would you kill those people?"
Aldric's eyes flickered with something ancient, something old and angry. "Because they were traitors. Their ancestors betrayed the dragons. And they thought they could just sign a piece of paper and make it all go away."
He reached out, his hand glowing with the same silver light as the hair. "But I remember. I remember everything. And I will not rest until every last descendant is dead."
Matteo's lightning crackled. "You're not Lord Aldric. Not really. You're something else."
Aldric laughed, and his voice shifted, deepening, ancient. "You're right, mage. I'm not Aldric. I'm the one who killed him. A hundred years ago."
He pulled off his face, literally, peeling away the mask of Aldric's features to reveal the face beneath.
A face that was inhuman, beautiful, terrifying. A face from legend. A face that had been thought dead for centuries. "I am Lujayn," the creature said. "The last silver dragon. And I will have my revenge." Lillian screamed as the dragon lunged.