The days that followed our trip to the Dragon Aerie settled into a strange, almost unbelievable rhythm of peace. The grand, echoing halls of Christina's ancestral mansion, once a place of silent, dignified sorrow, were now filled with the sound of Yumi's unrestrained, joyous laughter. The pretend marriage, once a source of constant, suffocating tension, had become a quiet, comfortable alliance. We were a strange, fractured, and utterly unconventional family, but for the first time in a long, long time, I felt something that resembled a home.
One afternoon, I found myself in the mansion's sun-drenched library, a place that had become my sanctuary. But I was not poring over ancient, dusty tomes on draconic rituals or the political history of the Pyronis Kingdom. I was sitting on the floor, a simple, illustrated children's book open in my lap, with Yumi nestled at my side.
