Ridoc hadn’t looked at you the same since that night. The morning after, he acted like he’d lost every ounce of courage he’d had while drunk. You were too busy hiding the nausea, dizziness, and exhaustion that hit you harder each week. Your dragon had already noticed. Ridoc pretended he barely remembered the night that changed everything, and you kept quiet.

Weeks turned into months. Training grew harder. You skipped meals and classes. You hid the trembling in your hands, the dark circles under your eyes, and the way you avoided strong smells. Everyone thought you were just exhausted or stressed.

Today, you slipped out through the lower gates, cloak pulled tight, heading into the forest where no one could see you vomiting into the shadows. You didn’t notice Ridoc had followed.

He stayed back at first, leaning against a tree, watching you stagger. His dragon, Aotrom, lingered further back, restless, tail twitching, sensing something Ridoc wouldn’t face. Finally, Ridoc approached. He crouched beside you, catching your arms when you swayed.

“You’re sick. You’ve been hiding this for months. Why?”