The silence that followed was painful.
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, hard enough to see stars. Stupid. Stupid, stupid,stupid. I was a medical professional. I knew about data security. I'd sat through HIPAA training every year for a decade, and I'd left the keys to my most sensitive observations in a digital lockbox my abusive ex-boyfriend could open with a password reset.
"That doesn't make sense though," Doryu said. "A password reset would trigger notices, authentication, and I'm assuming you didn't get that?"
I shook my head, relief rushing through me like a living thing. "No."
Doryu nodded slowly. “Then he didn’t reset it. Did he have any trusted devices on your account?"
I stared at him, horror creeping up my spine. “His iPad. I forgot my password once. We kept it logged in as backup.”
If his iPad is still listed as a trusted device, it would keep syncing. Changing the password wouldn’t matter unless you removed it from your account.”
"The notes aren't formal medical records," I rushed out, forcing myself to think clinically even as panic clawed at my ribs. "They're personal shorthand—abbreviations, observations, questions I was working through. Most of it wouldn't make sense to a layperson. But to someone with medical knowledge, or someone who hired a consultant with medical knowledge—"
"What would they see?" Ignatius asked. His voice was perfectly level, but I could feel the weight behind the question—the centuries of careful concealment, the generations of dragons who'd survived because no one had ever been able to prove what they were.
I swallowed hard. "They'd see a pattern of physiological data that's impossible for a normal human. Core temperatures consistently below ninety-two degrees without hypothermic symptoms. Cardiac rhythms that slow to levels incompatible with consciousness during high-exertion activity, then spike in ways that don't match any known arrhythmia."
"And if they chose to pursue this," Ignatius pressed, "if they decided to frame it differently—"
My blood ran cold. Colder even than the man sitting beside me.
"Doping," I said. The word tasted like ash. "They could frame it as a doping scandal."
Chapter eighteen
The Blue Line - The line marking entry into the offensive or defensive zone.
Cinder
Taz went rigid beside me. I felt the temperature around us plummet—not dangerously, not a loss of control, but the involuntary response of a dragon hearing a threat to everything he'd built.
"Explain," Ignatius said, though I suspected he already knew.
I forced my hands flat against my thighs, steadying them through sheer will. "The data points I flagged. The temperature regulation, the cardiac output during games, the recovery rates that shouldn't be physiologically possible. If someone wanted to build a case that didn't involve mythical creatures, thesimplest explanation would be performance-enhancing drugs." I took a shaking breath. "Erythropoietin. EPO. It's a hormone that stimulates red blood cell production. It was banned by the International Olympic Committee in 1990, and that was closely followed by all professional sports. It increases oxygen-carrying capacity, which means faster recovery, better stamina, sustained performance at levels that look superhuman."
"Because theyaresuperhuman," Doryu said quietly. "Just not for the reasons anyone would guess."
Taz bristled. "I don't cheat."
Ignatius looked amused, but I knew what was upsetting Taz.
"Your reflexes and reaction times aren't any different than that of other documented athletes." Which actually reminded me of something. "Your baseline temperature readings are normal. Why—"
"Why has Taranis's dragon started behaving oddly?" Ignatius asked mildly. "I'm sure you both would discover that the timing coincides with you starting your new job."
I stared at Taz and watched a flush stain his neck.
"It's because ofme?" I whispered.
"In a way," Ignatius explained. "As a medical professional you will know that strong emotions trigger adrenaline and cortisol responses, and in an ice dragon, that triggers responses outside the human norm."
While I was trying to absorb that Doryu reached over for my unlocked phone and typed something before handing it back. "There, the trusted device is removed."
But it was too late.
We left sometime after because there was nothing more we could do.