Chapter 8 ...And Tell

Kaelith

I watched her choose a seat where she could see all three of us.

Up close, she was even smaller than I’d thought. Younger, too—or maybe the world had simply worn her down early.

I exhaled and ran a hand through my hair. “It’s best if I start near the beginning.”

She didn’t interrupt.

“Centuries ago, humans controlled most of the world. Shifters existed then too—but we stayed hidden. Hunted. A convergence changed everything. The mystic realm overlapped with this one, bringing the fae and dragons fully into the world.”

Her eyes stayed locked on me.

“Humans tried to destroy us with their weapons. In the end, they only destroyed themselves. When the war ended, the shifters and fae divided the land. Humans were left in the center—monitored.”

She frowned slightly but stayed silent.

“The fae became obsessed with humans,” I continued. “They took them as mates. Their children were called Madrigals—half human, half fae. Ethereal beings with a natural affinity for music.”

The word made her still.

“One day, the fae vanished. Returned to their realm, most believe. The Madrigals were left behind. Their bloodline was… prized.” I hesitated. “Over the last fifty years, they began disappearing. The last known female vanished eighteen years ago.”

She tilted her head. “That’s a pretty neat history lesson. But what does it have to do with me?”

Curiosity flickered behind her skepticism.

Family, my dragon murmured.

I ignored him—for now.

“Shifters are dwindling,” I said. “Fewer mates. Fewer children. Almost no females. Some clans began inviting human women into their cities. Against expectation, it worked.”

She nodded slowly.

“I intended to do the same for my people. Yesterday, we submitted our request in Center City. That’s when I learned the Madrigals were gone.”

I watched understanding begin to dawn.

“I requested Madrigals,” I admitted. “They’re mythic—more compatible with dragons. We were returning to Ashcliff when your music reached us. I’ve never heard anything like it. It felt… calling. Like a siren song.”

She chewed her lip, petting the cat curled in her lap.

“Are you saying I’m a Madrigal?” she asked quietly.

I nodded. “I believe so. I’ve heard hundreds of musicians—human and shifter alike. None of them sounded like you. You taught yourself?”

Her gaze dropped to her hands.

“I was found outside a church,” she said after a long pause. “I remember piano lessons. Beatings. Foster homes.” She swallowed. “If I was something special, wouldn’t someone have known?”

“How old are you?” I asked gently.

“Eighteen. I think.”

The words settled heavily between us.

“The magistrate said the last female Madrigal was believed to be pregnant when she disappeared,” I said. “Eighteen years ago.”

Her breath hitched.

“That child could be you.”

“Then why would they leave me behind?” she asked.

“Maybe they didn’t,” I said. “Maybe they couldn’t find you. Or maybe your path lies elsewhere.”

She stood abruptly, anger flashing across her face.

“So you do want me,” she snapped. “To be a mate for some dragon and make mythical babies?”

The way she folded in on herself afterward—shoulders tight, chin lifted like armor—twisted something sharp in my chest. I’d chosen my words carefully, meant every one of them, but intention didn’t erase impact. I’d seen that posture before, in survivors who learned too young that attention always came with a cost.

I slowed my breathing. Urgency was the enemy here. Whatever she decided had to be hers. Anything else would poison whatever help I was trying to offer before it even began.

“No,” I said firmly. “That isn’t what I want.”

She didn’t sit back down, but she didn’t advance either.

“I want you safe,” I continued. “And when you’re ready to decide what you want from your life—whether that includes a dragon, a wolf, a human, or no one at all—that choice belongs to you.”

My dragon stirred beneath my skin, restless but controlled. Not hunger. Not desire.

Recognition.

Family, it insisted again.

Not a mate, I warned it silently. Not a claim.

The response came without words—only certainty. Protection did not always mean possession. Sometimes it meant restraint. Sometimes it meant standing back and letting someone walk their own path, even when every instinct screamed to shield them from it.

She searched my face, eyes sharp, suspicious, looking for the lie.

“I won’t pretend otherwise,” I added. “I would like to hear you play again. What you create is rare. But I have no romantic interest in you.”

That, at least, seemed to give her pause.

“My dragon feels protective of you,” I admitted. “I don’t fully understand why yet. But I won’t allow that instinct to decide your future.”

She finally sat back down, Cosmic shifting in her lap as if she sensed the tension easing by a fraction.

“I need you to understand something,” I said quietly. “You don’t owe me anything. Not answers. Not trust. Not gratitude.”

Her gaze snapped back to mine.

“I entered your home without invitation,” I continued. “That matters. If you tell me to leave after tonight, I will. Whatever happens next—if anything—happens on your terms.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and charged.

“I know we approached this badly,” I said. “For that, I am truly sorry. I only want to help. In Ashcliff, you would be free. You could walk the streets openly. No hiding underground. No scavenging just to survive.”

Jakob cleared his throat. “And no stealing.”

I shot him a sharp look.

Gods help me.