Dragons grew more powerful with age. That was a well-established fact and not surprising to me. However, I was surprised by just how well-defined the stratification of dragons was.

  There were four major categories: hatchlings, younglings, adults, and elders. I didn’t pay much attention beyond that, not wanting to get bogged down in the study of all subcategories right that minute. Categories did exist for dragons older than ‘elders’, but Grandmother simply rolled her eyes and told me those were irrelevant. Dragons who grew that old either suddenly vanished or went into a slumber so deep, none could wake them.

  And it had been attempted. No amount of screaming or prodding worked. No one who had tried could even hurt the dragons in question. Apparently, there were no fewer than three mountain ranges which were actually just dirt and such accumulating on top of slumbering dragons.

  Why was all of this important? Our little experiment had pushed the potency of Shaessath’s blood a step further into the elder dragon category.

  To say she was thrilled was an understatement. This meant Alys had an even more potent source of ingredients to rely on whenever I finally crafted the bloodline potion.

  I had a strong feeling that Shaessath would have forced me to run every other material she could safely extract from herself through the process immediately, which is why I was thankful she hadn’t provided them yet. I had nothing against doing so, of course, but the intensity with which she monitored the process was a bit much for me to want to repeat it over and over in one day.

  I did get to hear her perspective on the process, too, but I found it disappointingly unhelpful.

  “It is most peculiarly similar to the way my bloodline increases in potency naturally with time, yet far more intense and violent,” she explained. “It feels like every weakness is burned away, every inefficiency boiled into nothing, only for them to be replaced by pure potency.”

  Fascinating as all of that was, I could glean absolutely nothing from it.

  The process of fae strengthening with age was clearly not the same as what happened to dragons. I personally found that I was simply more with each passing year, as some indefinable quality in my possession deepened and grew. Certainly, this included an increase in my mana capacity and potency, which was easy enough to note. But there was more to it than that, and…

  Perhaps I understood why Shaessath could not properly put into words what had happened to her blood, if I was struggling so much to define my own growth.

  I put off running my own blood through the beetle’s flames, both because I was suddenly anxious about it and because I wanted to do it privately.

  “Hmmm… I don’t think we can do much more than this right now,” I mused, studying the drop of blood Shaessath was still observing with a keen eye. “We’ll need to collect all the materials we are planning to use and then begin testing. Wait, what are you doing?”

  I couldn’t conceal my shock as Shaessath opened the bottle, put it to her lips, and tilted it up until the drop of blood splashed onto her tongue. Her mouth snapped closed. A shiver raced through her entire body, from the tip of her snout to the tip of her tail.

  “Hrm. That felt… odd.” The dragoness turned to me with a toothy grin. “Odd, but surprisingly good.”

  Perhaps I was foolish to have grown so comfortable around her already. Despite all those teeth and her great power, I experienced only a momentary flash of fear.

  And some minor annoyance, of course. That was a sample I hadn’t even had a chance to examine yet!

  “Did it help in any way?” I asked.

  “Yesssss. It is very minor, obviously, but… hrm. I haven’t explicitly told you this yet. A dragon’s age is the most definitive way to gauge their power, yes. However, we can cheat by devouring particularly potent sources of mana aligned with our own nature, pushing our ‘age’ past our physical maturity. And the most potent sources of mana are, naturally…”

  Her grin widened as she trailed off, like she was daring me to finish the sentence.

  I took the bait. “Other dragons.”

  “Obviously. Particularly those of our own lineage. This is why, during times of greatest need, children might devour a fallen parent or ancestor. It is normally frowned upon, and it can cause some issues, but it is a direct shortcut to power. I just had a drop of my own empowered blood. There is practically no better supplement I could ask for at this point in my life.”

  I considered that, but really, only one word she had said truly bothered me. “Issues?”

  “Hrrrmmm.” She nodded, looking much more serious now. “I can admit my species is… practical. Cannibalism isn’t scorned because of the moral implications of the act. There are very real and very detrimental consequences if it is performed the wrong way.”

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  I told myself to stop even entertaining the urge to poke at a scarily powerful dragoness, ‘related’ to her or not.

  I failed.

  “There is a right way to eat someone of your own species?” I asked, sarcasm thick in my voice.

  The side-eyed look she sent me was startlingly similar to Alys’ own mannerisms.

  “Seasonings certainly help.”

  I choked on a shocked laugh, and she went on, “More importantly, you know that both fae and dragons are more than simple flesh. A dragon’s mana is an intrinsic part of our being. It carries our will. Attempting to devour another dragon means digesting everything that they are: conviction, desires, even glimpses of memory. It is impossible to ‘inherit’ someone’s memories this way, mind. You won’t even remember what you saw afterwards. But it is quite possible for having those pieces of someone else inside you, twisting what you are, to cause insanity.”

  A realization slotted into place, and I was speaking before I consciously chose to open my mouth.

  “That’s why all public instances of draconic cannibalism were victors devouring their enemies,” I breathed. “They already broke their victims once. That makes it easier to erase whatever lingering influence remains in their corpses?”

  “To the victor the spoils,” Shaessath declared solemnly. I twitched at the echo of Alys’ words after we killed the eel creature. “You are right. You could say the spirit lingering within the corpse is cowed into submission already. Likewise, it is usually safe for a child or descendant to devour their ancestor’s corpse, especially if the ancestor died peacefully or gave of themselves willingly. The ancestor would not want to harm their own kin.”

  I silently nodded, eyes wide and mind awhirl.

  What I didn’t bring up was that alchemists had been using draconic materials since the art came into being. Following the logic of what Shaessath had just told me, countless mortals should have suffered from doing so. Yet this was not the case. True, there were legends of people going insane from bathing in dragon blood, but I had never encountered proof of these stories.

  I saw two possible explanations. One, the resonance between draconic materials and most people who ingested them simply wasn’t great enough to trigger the problem. Two, alchemical processing eliminated the risk.

  I dismissed the second option quickly. Certain people groups saw draconic meat as a delicacy, and some particularly uncivilized races preferred to eat it raw. Granted, few could boast of having tasted such a ‘delicacy’, and fewer still could survive draconic retaliation if they boasted too loudly. But facts were facts.

  I was forced to conclude that the first explanation was the correct one: only a dragon committing cannibalism experienced the risks of the act.

  Unless the dragon being ingested is an ancestor…

  “So, using your blood for the potion will bear no risk for Alys?” I asked, my need to confirm this outweighing any trepidation as Shaessath turned a baleful eye on me.

  “Of course. Why would I ever want to harm my own granddaughter?”

  Her hiss somehow rattled my very bones, but I merely nodded in relief.

  This earned me a scoff. “You truly do love her.”

  “I do. More than I can properly express.” I paused, looking away from the dragoness as I fiddled with some of my equipment. “I was terrified when I realized it. The thought of what my Court might do to her if they discovered us…” I took a deep breath before meeting Shaessath’s eyes again. “I am a horribly selfish creature, because even knowing the risks, I cannot give her up. Ever.”

  The dragoness considered me, head tilted ever so slightly. I was startled when another slow grin took over her terrifying visage.

  “That is a very draconic thing to say, my child. I might want you to come with me so you can both be safe, but I have no complaints about you as my granddaughter’s mate.”

  I swallowed thickly, then pushed a somewhat tremulous smile onto my own face. “Thank you.”

  “Hrm. You supply the town with various things, correct? I suppose you’ll need some time to make them. I shall leave you to do so now, and go find my granddaughter.”

  She gave me a single imperious nod, reminding me again where Alys had learned to perform those, and then swept out of my laboratory.

  I felt a bit like a storm had just rolled over me.

  —

  I did my routine work quickly. I didn’t want to waste time I could be spending with Alys. Now that her family had disrupted her schedule anyway, I didn’t need to wait until the evening to drag her away from woodworking.

  I did, however, take some time to process another drop of Shaessath’s blood and stash the purified result away in my storage bag.

  In spite of the opportunity to do so, I skipped experimenting with my own blood. Perhaps I was coming up with excuses to avoid it. I didn’t quite understand why, but a part of me was hesitant to go through with the process, and that frustrated me greatly.

  Yet what use would I have out of the blood, anyway? I had never heard of cannibalism being in any way helpful to a fae. And while I didn’t doubt some Winter wretches, completely lost to their own horrid Stories, had done such a thing, the idea didn’t appeal to me.

  Then again, while my kind generally scoffed at the mere idea that they would ever need a bloodline purification potion, it could be useful. I wouldn’t say no to more power I could use to protect Alys and our life together.

  I found it a tiny bit amusing that I had never seriously considered using my alchemy to bolster myself. As much as I scoffed at it, I could not deny that I was likely infected by the typical fae pride.

  I would have to work on that. Though this particular instance wasn’t harmful, future mistakes made out of pride could be.

  As it was, I cleansed myself with the relevant spell and then took a quick bath. I was tempted to skip it entirely due to my desire to see Alys. Only remembering that her father was very mortal, not to mention human, stopped me from taking pointless risks.

  That particular reminder also managed to foul my mood somewhat.

  Soren’s mortality was a problem. When he died, and it was still very much a when rather than an if, Alys would be devastated. I didn’t want my dragoness to grieve. I didn’t want her to experience that sort of pain.

  Potential solutions swirled through my mind. I winced at even the consideration of some of them, such as asking for Soren’s name to make it easier for me to alter his nature.

  I could admit that a change had occurred in me since I took my first name. Each subsequent one had only fed it, too. The sensation of having someone’s entire being bent to my whims was a heady thing, and I found that a part of me craved more.

  I shook my head, feeling rather disturbed, and hastened my steps. Nothing could wash away my darker moods quite like Alys’ presence. Besides, I was more than a little curious about what my dragoness had gotten up to.