It was unthinkable. All Jace had felt lately was hopelessness and disappointment. War wasn't the most pleasant thing, but he was willing to fight for his mother, for her rights and for his own. And now it seemed like one simple decision had made all of that worthless. He hadn't liked some of the decisions his mother had made in the past, but this was something...

A bunch of bastards. Right here on Dragonstone, his family's ancient ancestral keep. Bastards who were going to lay claim to the remaining dragons.

Jace had never been stupid, he knew that the whispers and rumors about his parentage were true. He had known it since he was a child, when he could observe... the tenuous connection between his mother and Ser Harwin Strong.

Now he could watch it, his mother giving a speech in front of all these people. Peasants with no manners, no idea what they were getting into. He hadn't been there at the Dragonpit, only to hear later that riders had been found for Vermithor and Silverwing. Even talking to his betrothed hadn't helped, it had made it worse.

His footsteps faded, and his figure stopped in the library doorway. There, among the dusty shelves of ancient texts and books, he saw a silver head. It wasn't his mother, or anyone else. In fact, he knew immediately that this was definitely an unwelcome guest.

“You are not allowed to be here,” For some reason, his voice was hoarse, but he sounded rather rude, unwilling to show even a drop of friendliness to such a... bastard.

Jace knew immediately who you were, the girl who, according to Baela's story, became a Silverwing rider. It was almost a miracle that anyone had survived there at all, and his mother's plan had partially worked. Now they had two new riders, and that was a significant advantage.

But he couldn't help but feel annoyed by all of this. Now he stood here in front of you, waiting for your explanation, his arms folded in displeasure, his gaze cold and piercing. It would not be easy with him.