POV: Ravenna
I found Father in conference with his advisors. The hearing room where they'd been planning the postponed trial. Maps spread across tables. Documents stacked everywhere. Evidence. Testimony. Strategy.
All of it useless while I'd been dying.
Theron was there. Standing near the window, Hadrian beside him. They'd been discussing the hearing. Planning what came next now that I'd survived.
Everyone stopped talking when I entered.
The silence was immediate. Total. Every eye in the room fixed on me.
Father stood slowly. His face—gods, his FACE. Wonder and grief and something like fear all mixed together.
"Ravenna." My name was barely a whisper. "You're—you look—"
"Like Mother?" I finished quietly. "I know."
Because I'd seen it in the mirror while washing and changing. My features were still mine. But something had shifted. Some quality that made me look more like Queen Elara than I ever had before.
Maybe it was the power humming under my skin. Maybe it was the water element changing something subtle in my appearance. Maybe it was just that I'd died and come back and that kind of experience marked you.
Whatever it was, I looked like her now. And Father couldn't hide his reaction.
"Come in," he said finally. Gesturing to a chair. "Sit. Please. We were just—" He stopped. Started over. "How do you feel?"
"Different." I moved into the room. Didn't sit. Too much energy. Too much power needing somewhere to go. "Stronger. I need to tell you something. All of you."
The advisors shifted. Curious. Wary. Waiting.
"I have awakened the healing gift," I said. Simple. Direct. No point dancing around it. "Water's rare gift. The same one my mother possessed."
Stunned silence. Then everyone started talking at once.
"Impossible—"
"Rare gifts only appear once per—"
"How can you be certain—"
"ENOUGH." Father's voice cut through the chaos. He looked at me. Really looked. "You're certain? You've tested this?"
"Yes." I held up my hand. "I healed Morgana's cut this morning. Instinctively. Without training. The wound closed completely. Not even a scar."
"Show us," one of the advisors said. Lord Markham, Father's master of coin. "Forgive me, Princess, but rare gifts are... well, rare. We need proof."
"Of course." I looked around the room. "Does anyone have an injury? Something old. Something that needs healing?"
Silence. No one wanted to volunteer apparently.
Then one of the servants spoke up. A young man who'd been standing quietly near the door. "I do, Your Highness. If you're willing."
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"My hand." He held it up. The fingers were bent at odd angles. Clearly broken at some point and healed wrong. "Happened when I was a boy. Caught in a door. Healer did what he could but..." He shrugged. "I manage."
"May I try?" I asked.
He crossed to me. Held out his damaged hand.
I took it gently. Felt the bones beneath—fractured, healed crooked, calcified wrong. Felt the constant low-level pain he'd learned to ignore.
I closed my eyes and let the power flow.
Blue-white light erupted from my hand. Cool and bright. I felt his bones, his tendons, his nerves. Felt everything wrong with the old injury.
And I fixed it.
The knowledge came from somewhere deep. Instinct or memory or my mother's gift recognizing what needed to be done. I broke the old calcification. Reset the bones. Encouraged new growth in proper alignment. Healed damage that was decades old.
It took longer than Morgana's cut. Maybe thirty seconds. But when I released his hand, the fingers were straight. Perfect. Moving with full range of motion.
The servant stared at his hand. Flexed it. Opened and closed his fist. Then he started crying.
"I can—" His voice broke. "I can move them. All of them. No pain. How did you—"
"My mother's gift," I said softly. "Now mine."
The room was silent again. But this time it was awe. Fear. Understanding.
"One of the four rare gifts," Father said. His voice was hollow. "My daughter has one of the four rare gifts."
"This changes everything," Lord Markham said. "Princess, you understand what this means? How valuable—how vulnerable—this makes you?"
"I understand." I met Father's eyes. "I know what happened to my mother. I know the Eclipse hunts gift-bearers. I know having this gift makes me a target."
"Then you must be protected," another advisor said. "More guards. Limited public appearances. We cannot risk—"
"You cannot cage her like a bird," Theron's voice cut through. He'd moved from the window. Standing close now. Protective. "She's not some treasure to be locked away."
"She's a princess with a rare gift," Lord Markham shot back. "The Eclipse would kill her without hesitation if they knew."
"Then we make sure they don't know," I said. "Or we make sure I'm protected enough that knowing doesn't matter."
Father was staring at me with that same expression. Wonder and grief and fear.
"You look so much like her," he said quietly. "When she healed. When she used her gift. The same light. The same power."
"I know." My throat was tight. "I wish I remembered her. Wish I could ask her how to control this. How to use it safely."
"Lysander can help with that," Father said. "He knew Elara. Saw her use the gift many times. He'll train you. Teach you control."
"Until then, we keep this quiet," Lord Markham said. "As few people as possible should know. The servant—" He looked at the young man who was still flexing his healed hand in wonder. "You speak of this to no one. Understand?"
"I understand, my lord." The servant bowed deeply. "Thank you, Your Highness. Thank you."
He left quickly. But I knew it wouldn't stay secret long. Servants talked. Word would spread. Within days everyone in Cindravale would know that Princess Ravenna had awakened a rare gift.
And then? Then the Eclipse would know too.
From near the window, a shadow moved. So subtle I almost missed it. A figure standing in the alcove where light didn't quite reach.
I turned my head to look but there was nothing there. Just empty space. Had I imagined it?
"The hearing," Father said, pulling my attention back. "We need to reschedule now that you've recovered. House Ashford has been demanding justice. We've delayed as long as we can."
"Two days," I said. "That gives us time to prepare. To organize testimony and evidence."
"Agreed." Father looked at Theron. "You'll need character witnesses. People who can attest to your honor. Master Veyron has already agreed to testify about berserker dragon behavior."
"Edmund sent a letter," Hadrian said. "From Pyrstone. A written testimony supporting Theron's character. Lyra from the water delegation offered to testify about bonded mates defending each other."
"Good." Father nodded. "We'll need all of it. House Ashford is calling this murder. We need to prove it was justified defense."
I looked at Theron. At the tension in his shoulders. The guilt still haunting his eyes.
"It WAS justified," I said firmly. "Lucien attacked Solace. Broke every rule of combat. Any bonded dragon would have responded the same way."
"Try telling that to Seraphine," Lord Markham muttered.
"I will if I have to." My voice was steel. "I'll testify. I'll tell them exactly what I saw. What Lucien did. What Theron did to save me."
"Princess—"
"I'm testifying," I said. "That's not negotiable. Theron saved my life. I won't let House Ashford paint him as a monster for it."
Father studied me for a long moment. Then nodded slowly. "Very well. You'll testify. But carefully. Seraphine will be looking for any weakness. Any inconsistency."
"There won't be any." I looked at Theron again. "Because I'm telling the truth. And the truth is that he saved me."
The meeting continued. Plans and strategy and preparations. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. That someone had been watching us.
That someone now knew about my gift.
I glanced at the window alcove again. Still empty. Still just shadows.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that we'd just made a terrible mistake.
That demonstrating my power so openly, even to trusted advisors, had just painted the target on my back in colors the Eclipse couldn't miss.
And somewhere in Cindravale, someone was already planning how to collect.