Morning light spilled through the glass, tracing the messy black hair on the pale man's head.

Yulia turned to explain the recipe, but her voice caught in her throat.

The blanket had slipped from his shoulders. Sunlight defined every muscle on his frame, a raw strength hidden beneath his usually slim silhouette.

Yulia shielded her eyes with her hand, using two fingers to hook the corner of the quilt and yank it back up.

"You haven't finished the explanation," Caerus said. He leaned forward, his gaze fixed on her reddening ears.

"Why aren't you looking at me?"

Yulia ignored him. She had shared a bed with the Black Dragon for days now, moving from terror to a jagged, forced calm.

Except for the mornings. The proximity of his face was a physical blow to her composure.

"Why won't you wear clothes!" Yulia shoved a black robe at his chest. "Put it on. Now."

Caerus frowned, his hair a dark bird's nest. "Don't give orders to a god."

Yulia stood by the bed, her bare feet digging into the rug. "Lord Caerus, you are eating a sandwich this morning. That is a command. You can refuse, of course."

Caerus stared at her for a long, silent beat. "I refuse," he said, raising two fingers. "I'm eating two sandwiches."

A sharp knock rattled the heavy door. "Lord Caerus? Princess Yulia?"

It was Giotto. "The smiths from both districts are here. Sir Menningen has them waiting in the hall."

Caerus yanked the door open, towering over the boy. "Is breakfast ready?"

Giotto scrambled backward, his boots sliding on the marble. "Y-yes... in the dining room. But the hall—"

"Tell them to wait in the dining room," Caerus cut him off. "And I want two servings. Got it?"

Giotto turned and sprinted away, nearly colliding with the silent skeleton knight. Menningen looked down at the boy on the floor.

"Sir Menningen," Giotto gasped, grabbing the knight's hand. "I feel so safe seeing your sturdy frame. If only I were a man like you—"

The knight's hand went limp. Giotto hit the floor again.

"If you want to be sturdy," Menningen's jaw clicked, "start by standing up on your own."

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Giotto limped into the dining room, his hip aching as he set the trays. The blacksmiths stood on either side of the long table, their eyes fixed on the dragon god and the princess.

The scent of toasted white bread and savory ham filled the room. Yulia had asked Molly to char the bread over the fire, layering it with smoked meat and fresh, crisp lettuce.

The smiths' stomachs growled in a low, collective rumble. Even the lords stared at the sandwiches with a mix of hunger and awe.

"These are the designs." Yulia slid a stack of parchment across the table.

"The shapes are simple, but there is one requirement," she said, her voice echoing. "Each pot must be hammered ten thousand times."

The smiths huddled over the drawings of flat-bottomed and semi-circular pans.

"Ten thousand?" a Black Crow smith scoffed. "That's the labor for a master's blade. This is for a kitchen?"

Yulia leaned her chin on her palm. "Is it too much? What do the others think?"

Alik looked up, his gaze meeting Yulia's sapphire eyes. His hands shook. A hen burst from his basket, fluttering onto the table and charging straight toward the dragon.

The room went dead silent. Caerus looked up, his golden slit eyes locking onto the bird. The chicken froze mid-step, turning into a feathered statue.

"Insolent filth!" the wealthy smith shouted. "Kneel, peasant! Beg for mercy before your trash stains the Lord's sight!"

Alik's knees hit the floor. He couldn't even find his voice to plead.

"Yulia," Caerus said, his voice flat. He picked up the unconscious hen by its feet and waved it at her.

"Can we put this in that tomato pot you mentioned?"

The lords and smiths from the Black Crow district exchanged blank stares.

Yulia rubbed her temples, a dull ache starting behind her eyes. "I... I don't think so."

"I see." Caerus's cold, grey-blue eyes swept over the ragged smiths from the Old Pigeon district.

"Any last words?"

The smiths turned ashen, their knees knocking together.

"Wait! It's not useless!" Yulia pivoted, her voice hitting a sharp, desperate pitch. "Chicken breast for burgers. Legs for frying. Feet for braising. The carcass... it's perfect for broth!"

She lunged forward, snatching the terrified hen from the air and tucking it against her chest.

Caerus's brow furrowed, his dissatisfaction radiating through the room like a physical weight. "And the tomato pot?"

Yulia's heart hammered against her ribs. She pointed a shaking finger at the baskets brought by the poor smiths. "Everything in those! They're perfect for the pot!"

The smarter lord caught the signal and scrambled to dump their produce onto the long table.

Yulia scanned the pile. Fresh greens, mushrooms, and a block of pungent cheese.

The wealthy lords from the Black Crow district sneered. Their tools and jewels were worth empires; why was the Princess looking at moldy milk?

"Lord Caerus, don't let these peasants stain your table," the Black Crow lord said, clicking open a velvet-lined box.

"We brought crystals. Alchemical gold. Tears of a phoenix. The horn of a unicorn."

Alik looked at the floor, his shoulders sinking. He'd never even heard of a unicorn horn. His humble vegetables looked like dirt compared to the shimmering gems.

Caerus barely spared the gems a glance.

"Oh, but this cheese makes a perfect foam," Yulia said, hoisting the basket.

"Foam?" Caerus's gaze fixed on the basket, a flicker of genuine curiosity in his eyes.

Yulia's lips curled into a bright, commercial smile. "For the milk tea. Sweet or salty—which do you prefer?"

"Sweet?"

"I recommend the salty one," she countered.

"I'll try both."

The lord holding the gems stood frozen. A mountain of cheese wouldn't buy a single phoenix tear.

Caerus looked at the lord from the Old Pigeon district. "One week for the pot. Keep the food. Leave."

Yulia maintained her professional smile. "Thanks for coming by. Leave everything at the door."

The smiths from the slums stumbled out, their brains unable to process how a turnip beat a unicorn.

The Black Crow smiths fared worse. They left their treasure, but for a "reward," Yulia handed them a sack of common vegetables.

Meanwhile, the poor smiths clutched heavy sacks of gold coins.

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The tomato pot bubbled, filled with mushrooms, fish, and seafood.

Jojo and Molly scraped their plates clean. Ollie the phoenix sat on the table, his stomach bulging until he could barely flap his wings.

Menningen, the skeleton knight, watched them with his hollow sockets. He picked up a spoon and carefully poured a bit of soup into his jaw.

The liquid splashed straight through his ribs and hit the floor with a wet slap.

Jojo hurried to comfort the rattling skeleton while Yulia grabbed her clean lace and headed for the springs.

She stepped into the steam, only to find a shadow already by the water.

Caerus reached for the tie of his black robe.

Yulia clutched her own dress to her collar. "You go first. I'll wait."

She turned to bolt, but a hand caught the back of her dress, yanking her back.

"Together," Caerus said, his voice a smooth, low hum. "You'll wake me up if you come back too late."

Harassment, Yulia thought, her jaw tightening.

Before she could protest, Caerus tossed her into the steaming water.

Yulia surfaced, coughing, her sapphire eyes burning with a mix of shock and rage. She watched the dragon step into the pool, his pale skin glistening in the torchlight.

"What are you looking at?" Caerus asked, his expression blank.

Yulia's mouth went flat. She slowly reached for the laces of her gown.

"You asked for this," she muttered.

"What?"

"I'm going to show you why boys need to protect themselves in the dark."