Chapter 10: Magical Creature

Just then, Eva and her father showed up for dinner. Apparently, Elsa had invited them earlier in the day. Blanche, still reeling from the chaos of her draconic origins, hadn’t registered a thing.

Her mother, just as out of it as she was, had ordered pizza. A good old classic that had the advantage of requiring no effort. Blanche, meanwhile, still hadn’t digested anything—not the revelations, not this new weight on her shoulders, not the silence that had followed.

She glanced at her mother: her eyes still tinged with that reptilian gleam. No one commented on it. Was she the only one who could see it? Or… did everyone know, except her?

And honestly, she wasn’t even sure she wanted the answer anymore.

Pretending she needed some air, she volunteered to do the dishes—the evening’s royal chore. Elsa, true to herself, was still eating her pizza with a plate and cutlery. Now Blanche knew why. She shook her head and went back to scrubbing a glass like her life depended on it, too focused—until a deep voice made her jump.

"Feeling better?"

Kiyan. Of course. And she hadn’t even heard him come in.

She turned around. His gaze still held that mix of restrained concern and something she couldn’t quite explain. She had done everything to seem normal during dinner. Clearly, critical failure.

He grabbed a dish towel and started drying without a word. His presence instantly softened the cold in the room.

"Better, yeah. Thanks."

Silence had always been comfortable between them—but now it vibrated differently. Denser.

"You’re lying, he said simply."

She looked up, ready to deny it, but he interrupted her gently, lifting her chin with two fingers.

He had stepped closer. Too close. His breath brushed her cheek. His scent—warm wood, lemon, and something older—wrapped around her. A shiver ran up her spine.

His golden eyes searched for a crack in hers. She faltered.

And yet...

"Yes. I’m fine. Really."

He studied her for a moment, as if checking. Then he let go of her chin with a tired, almost tender smile.

She went back to the dishes, a bit too nervously. He yawned. She did the same. Embarrassed by the stretch of her mouth—and what it might reveal—she turned her head away. Too late. He had seen. He chuckled softly, that deep, teasing sound that disarmed her every time.

"Good, " he said.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The silence grew heavy. He eventually noticed.

" Have you been sleeping at all since you got back?"

"Not at all."

" I figured. The house has never been this clean.

She shot him a dark look."

"I clean regularly, thank you."

" Not like this."

His smile widened. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief, the kind that had always had a strange effect on her. Like a pleasant vertigo. She looked away. Hell and damnation. How could he be so disarming just by breathing?

" Eva asked if you wanted to sleep over, " he said innocently.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Eva, huh? Or you?"

He held her gaze with disarming nonchalance.

" Mom’s going to slip out again, right?"

He kept looking at her, a half-smile on his lips.

"She finally told you everything."

" Let’s say she didn’t really have a choice."

She sighed, running a hand over her face.

" You all knew… of course you did."

Of course.

Always the last to know. Always the most painful option.

" I’m a djinn, he replied calmly. Hard to hide that kind of secret from me."

She blinked.

"A… what?"

" A genie, if you prefer. I can create, erase, materialize pretty much whatever I want. The whole three-wishes thing—but I’m more into spontaneous manifestation of cool stuff than oil lamps."

Blanche stood frozen, hands soaked up to the wrists.

"Great. Fantastic. I’m on board."

Perfect: the man she was crazy about wasn’t even human. In a way, that reassured her. Neither was she.

He smiled, amused by her bluntness.

"And Eva? Does she know?"

" Yes. She’ll fully become a djinn when she comes of age. She wanted to tell you, but I stopped her."

He said it with a gentleness that left no room for reproach. She just gave him a look and a resigned pout.

" So my mom’s eyes—that glow—it’s normal?"

" Probably. Now that you know the truth, your perception has adjusted. And soon… you’ll see your own change too. "

She blinked, as if she could catch them in a reflection.

"What am I supposed to do with all this?"

" All drakions end up with that gaze. It’s in their nature."

"Are there rules at least?"

He shrugged.

"None. There are no rules. Only what you want to do."

She stared at him, surprised.

"Are you offering me a wish right now?" she asked, half-serious.

"Why not?"

She hesitated, then whispered:

"I’d like… to love whoever I want. To have a real relationship. Not be doomed to… strangers."

She had said it almost under her breath. Almost shamefully. But he understood. Of course he did.

She explained the draconic heat. As detached as possible. Because there had never been secrets between them—and tonight wouldn’t be the first.

He listened without.

Then said softly:

"Maybe you’ll fall in love with a dragon."

"Unlikely," she murmured.

He stepped a little closer. She felt the tension hum in the air.

"Why?"

" Because… I think I already have."

She stared at the sink, red as a peony. She could feel her heart beating to her fingertips.

He murmured, almost to himself:

"And it’s not a dragon."

She looked up at him. He was there, within reach. Too close, too quiet. Too much him.

He moved closer still, arms crossed, sleeves rolled up. Those forearms could have started a world war.

"What are you going to do? " he asked.

"I don’t know."

"When you do, I’ll be here. I’ll help you. Always."

The words, in his mouth, carried a different weight. Something absolute.

The ground seemed to shift beneath her. This wasn’t the moment. Not now.

He left without insisting a few minutes later. She stayed behind to finish the dishes.

Her heart still trembling.

The evening came to an end. Elsa kissed her on the doorstep, more nervous than she let on.

"Call me every night, okay?"

" I promise."

Blanche smiled at her. A real smile.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, baby."

Eva didn’t give her time to get emotional and dragged her home.

As often, Blanche settled in at her best friend’s place as if she lived there. Pajamas, bed, shower gel with her name on it.

She slipped under the hot water. But even there, she didn’t feel clean. Not really.

Killing—even by instinct, even to survive—haunted her.

So she scrubbed herself again. And again.

Then she chose a bath. To forget. To find herself again. If she didn’t enjoy life now… when would she?

And in the warmth, in the familiar scent, naked, she closed her eyes.

And fell asleep.

Without having had time to warn her mother about the psycho from earlier that afternoon.

Too bad. Too late.