Chapter 1
Mina
I sworethe way of the Shadowblades would die with me. The oath tasted bitter on my tongue when I spoke it, like ashes and regret mixed with the copper tang of blood from battles I never wanted to fight.
And then I had daughters.
For the last twenty years, I have trained all of my progeny to have the same skills I have, watching them grow from helpless hatchlings into deadly predators who move like silk and strike like lightning. There is one more that I trained, one that is vital to my daughter’s future—Corvis Mourningstar, mate to my daughter Raven. I am ruthless when I train him with my sons, pushing them until sweat pours down their faces and their muscles shake with exhaustion. They need to be stronger and faster than any other male on this continent.
Thauglor trains them in hand-to-hand combat, testing them on a daily basis, his fists connecting with flesh in controlled strikes that leave bruises like badges of honor. He pushes them to the brink of exhaustion, making them stronger than most of the males in the flight, their bodies forged in pain and determination.
“Mom?” Raven lands beside me, her massive wings creating a gust of wind that carries her scent—sea salt and jasmine, with an undertone of something sharper that speaks to the predator beneath her beauty. She folds her wings in tight against her body, the leathery membranes rustling softly like silk settling into place.
Smiling, I turn and embrace her tightly, feeling the warmth of her body through her clothes and the steady beat of her heart against my chest. “Yes, sweetheart?” We stare over the edge at the courtyard below where her father is training her brothers and Corvis, the sound of clashing steel and grunts of effort rising to where we stand like a symphony of controlled violence.
“Do you think we’re ready?” Raven’s voice is soft, almost distant, carrying an uncertainty that makes my maternal instincts flare with protective fire.
I turn and stare into her sapphire eyes—so like her father’s they could be cut from the same precious stone—and smile. “I do.” Leaning forward, I press my lips to her forehead, tasting the salt of barely there perspiration and breathing in her familiar scent. I sigh, the sound carrying twenty years of love and worry and fierce pride. “I have trained you and your sisters to survive anything. There is no way in Tiamat’s creation that I would allow my daughters to be defenseless.” I stand up a little straighter, looking up at her as Lily walks out with the twins in tow, their footsteps echoing off the stone like a drumbeat.
“You four take care of each other. Lily, I am counting on you to help Raven and the others adjust to the campus.” I watch Lily smile, her expression lighting up with the anticipation that makes my chest tight with both pride and worry.
“Of course, I can’t wait until the gauntlet.” Lily rubs her hands together, the sound of skin against skin dry and eager, and looks at the twins with eyes that gleam like polished gold. “Let’s see if we can make it two years in a row.” The light glints off her silver horns, creating brief flashes that catch the eye like scattered diamonds.
“We got this,” Azalea says, leaning on her twin with casual confidence that reminds me so much of myself at that age it makes my throat tight with emotion.
“It’s in the bag, Mom, no worries.” Belle has a mischievous glint in her eyes that’s all Ziggy. The same expression that used to make my heart race with equal parts love and exasperation when I saw it on her father’s face.
I watch Raven watch the men sparring below, noting the way her eyes track every movement with the focused intensity of a born predator, and smile before looking back at the girls.
“The four of you are late for poisons with Daddy Balor. Make sure you grab Thorne and Isolde to go with you.” I reach out and pull Raven from the edge. My fingers are gentle but firm on her arm, and turn her and my other daughters back toward the nest, herding them like a protective mother hen despite their deadly capabilities.
Reaching through the tethers of my flight, I feel for the familiar presence and summon Evan to me. When he manifests, the air shimmers like heat waves for a moment before his solid form appears. He turns to watch the girls head back inside and sighs; the sound carrying longing so deep it makes my heart ache for him. “You called, my queen.”
I smirk, looking at him as he turns to look back over his shoulder at the nest again, his posture tense with barely controlled want. “Which one?” Tilting my head, I laugh a little, seeing him go pale, the color draining from his face like water from a broken vessel.
“I...” He looks down and then back up at me, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Thorne, she should know what I am to her, but she doesn’t.” There’s a sadness in his tone that pulls at my heartstrings like a melancholy melody.
“She’s a dragon. We can’t sense our mates until around our twenty-first birthday. ” I glance down at the stone beneath my feet,feeling the solid coolness even through my boots. “The gathering is happening here during the winter break. All of my hatchlings were born during that break a year apart.” A laugh escapes my lips, bright with irony and tinged with maternal amusement. “The gathering is lasting between the hatching of my first clutch to two days after the second clutch.”
“That makes sense,” Evan says thoughtfully, his voice carrying the weight of understanding and patience learned through years of waiting. “I’m so much older than her.” He looks away and sighs, the sound heavy with self-doubt and concern.
“Packlord displacer beasts age slowly like dragons do. You look her age even though you’re twenty years older than her.” I rest a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath my palm, and smile with reassurance. “Mind taking me down below? I want to see how my sons are doing.”
With a smile that transforms his entire face, he reaches out and loops his arm with mine before we phase from the upper courtyard. The feeling of existing and not existing all at once is almost freeing, like floating in warm water while the world dissolves around us. When we manifest down below, I lower my head slightly to him in thanks before he phases back up to the nest on guard duty, his form shimmering out of existence like morning mist.
The sounds of blades clashing and singing fill the air, metal ringing against metal in patterns that speak of skill and deadly grace. I watch my four sons and Corvis sparring, their movements fluid and precise, sweat glistening on their skin as they push themselves to their limits. Corvis is in the ring with Thauglor, going blow for blow with him, their swords meeting in showers of sparks that light up their faces with brief, brilliant flashes. At twenty-seven years old, he’s become an instructor at Shadowcarve, assisting Abraxis with the easy confidence of someone who has earned his place through blood and determination. He still comes here religiously to train anywhere from three to five days a week, depending on his schedule, his dedication is unwavering even as his responsibilities grow. Thauglor and Klauth havetaken a personal interest in his training, making sure he’s the strongest he can be, their investment in his future as obvious as their love for Raven.
“Looking good, guys!” I yell over the sounds of the swords hitting, my voice carrying across the courtyard with pride and encouragement.
Ziggy manifests with a cooler full of cold drinks and sandwiches, the sudden appearance of food making my stomach rumble despite the tension in the air. “Break time, everyone.” He calls out and waits until everyone starts walking over, their movements tired but satisfied, before beginning to distribute refreshments with his usual cheerful efficiency.
Ziggy takes the time to pass out sandwiches and drinks to everyone before leaving, his departure as sudden as his arrival, leaving behind only the lingering scent of his cologne and the warmth of his care.
“How did the girls do this morning?” Thauglor asks before he pulls me into his arms and hugs me, his body warm and solid against mine, still radiating heat from his exertion. The scent of his sweat—clean and masculine with that underlying note of dragon fire—fills my nostrils and makes me feel safe and cherished.
“They are as deadly as they are beautiful. Thorne and Raven are ready to go to the academy next month.” I stare at Corvis on purpose, letting my gaze linger meaningfully. Thauglor and the other adults and I have kept him being Raven’s mate a secret for twenty years, the knowledge burning in our chests like a carefully guarded flame.
“I can’t wait for the gathering,” Allister says, raising his drink in the air, the condensation from the cold bottle dripping onto his fingers.
