The whispers around us filter through our protective barrier, voices carrying on the mountain air like scattered leaves. No one has seen a female black dragon with wings in generations. Wait until they see how many scales I have on my back, the intricate patterns that mark me as something unique and potentially dangerous. I sigh softly, and my dad purrs, the sound rumbling through his chest and into mine like a lullaby of protection.
“You’re safe, little one. No one will dare touch a hair on your head,” he murmurs against my hair, his voice carrying the absolute certainty of a father’s love and the deadly promise of an ancient dragon’s protection.
“I know. It’s just that I’ve never left home,” I admit, the words tasting like confession and fear. I shrug my shoulders and look up into the same sapphire eyes I have, finding comfort in the familiar depths that reflect my own.
“This will be a wonderful experience for you and your siblings. You can always fly home on the weekends with us,” he says, his smile warm as summer sunshine as he boops me on the nose with one gentle finger.
“Yeah, I keep forgetting about that.” A soft laugh escapes my lips, the sound carrying relief and nervous energy in equal measure. “I should go get my envelope and room assignment.” I hug my dad tight once more, breathing in his scent and committing it to memory, before leaving the safety of his wings.
The first few steps away from him, I feel a tightness in my chest, like invisible hands squeezing my ribs. It’s just my nerves getting the better of me, but the sensation makes my wings twitch with the urge to flee back to his protection. I head toward the line of students at the admission table, my boots silent on the grass, wings folded tight against my back.
Thorne pulls me in line with her, and we laugh together, the sound bright and familiar in this strange new place. “How’s Dad holding up?” Thorne bumps my shoulder as she smiles, and those blood-red eyes remind me so much of Daddy Balor’s basilisk form it makes my heart ache with homesickness.
I turn and look back at him, and he and Mom are hugging, their forms pressed together like they’re trying to memorize each other’s shape. “He’s having as much trouble as I am.”
“You’ve been his shadow for twenty years. Whatever Daddy Thauglor was doing, you were right there with him,” Thorne observes, her voice gentle with understanding.
“You were Mom’s shadow,” I point out, furrowing my brows as I look at her. “Who’s surname are you using?” Thorne is a miracle, being a combination of the three fathers of our clutch and our mom, her very existence defying the normal laws of dragon genetics.
“I listed all three fathers’ surnames as my own,” Thorne says with a smile that lights up her entire face, and I can’t help but laugh at her audacity.
“That’s one way to do it.” We share a good laugh as she gets called up next, the sound echoing off the mountain walls. Thorne waves her envelope at me, then goes to sit on the stone bench off to the side, her movements graceful despite her obvious nervousness.
“Next!” From the memories Dad showed me, this is Anipe, her voice sharp with administrative efficiency. I step up to the table, feeling the weight of curious stares like physical pressure on my skin.
“Raven Mrithun, daughter of Queen Willamina Ragnar and Thauglor Mrithun,” I announce my name and bloodline like Father told me to do, my voice carrying clearly across the courtyard despite my nervousness.
Anipe freezes in her movements, her pen hovering over the paper, and she slowly looks up at me with eyes that widen with recognition and something that might be fear. She hands me an envelope marked with the founder’s seal, her fingers trembling slightly. “Join your sisters. You’ll be in the dragon dorms with Lily and Thorne.” I move out of the way and join up with my sisters, the envelope warm in my hands.
“So? Let’s go make ourselves at home.” I loop my arms with my sisters and tilt my head, looking at them with forced confidence that I hope sounds more convincing than it feels.
Lily rolls her eyes and smirks, the expression so familiar it makes my chest tight with affection. “Intelligence test tomorrow for you two. Let’s get you settled in. Daddy Ziggy is walking everyone up to the dorms today.” Lily has a smirk plastered on her lips that promises mischief and adventure.
“Dragons! Time to head to the dorms.” Ziggy’s voice carries across the courtyard, warm and familiar as a favorite blanket, and I can’t help but smile at him as we approach, his presence like a piece of home in this strange place.
“Who’s the freak with the wings?” A shrill female voice cuts through the air like a blade, sharp with disdain and loud enough to carry across the courtyard.
I huff out a breath, ignoring her, the insult sliding off me like water off scales. She’s not worth the time it would take to reply to her, though my wings twitch with the urge to show her exactly what this “freak” can do. Daddy Ziggy gives her a glare that could melt stone, but I slowly shake my head at him and arch a brow. He knows I can handle myself, and starting a fight on my first day would not be the statement I want to make.
“If you’ll follow me this way,” Ziggy says, turning and walking, his voice carrying the authority of someone used to commanding respect. Lily tells us about the buildings as we walk, pointing out various structures and their purposes. The ones who were talking shit are quiet now, their whispers dying away under the weight of Ziggy’s disapproval.
“Guard drakes,” Lily whispers to me, her voice barely audible above the sound of our footsteps on stone. Hmm, so that’s what’s tormenting me—the prickling sensation along my scales that speaks of hostile attention. I wonder what color scales it has so I know what its immunities are, filing the information away for future reference.
As we approach the dragon dorms, I see Abraxis and Corvis up on the stone balcony above the entrance to the dorm, their silhouettes darkagainst the mountain sky. I watch them for several minutes, noting the way Corvis’s gaze seems to find me in the crowd, before following the others into the dorm.
The inside is dark, kind of like the lower levels of our home, with the stone walls absorbing sound and light in equal measure. My eyes roam everywhere and nowhere all at once, automatically cataloging details. I map every single exit and entrance, where the doors are and hallways lead, the layout burning itself into my memory. It’s better to be safe than sorry, especially in unfamiliar territory.
The guard drakes are left on the first floor, close to the entrance, their presence like a weight in the air that makes my scales itch with wariness. We head up the spiraling stone stairs, and I count them as we ascend to the second floor, my footsteps silent on the worn stone. Half of our group is left on the second floor, their voices fading as we continue upward. At the end of that hallway is the next set of stairs leading to the third floor. Midway through the hallway, we lose the rest of the dragons, and it leaves just us—my sisters and me, alone in this tower of stone and secrets.
“Where’s Allister?” I look at Ziggy and tilt my head, watching him with curiosity and a hint of concern for our absent brother.
“Being the prince, he won’t be staying on campus. However, your sisters and you have a suite up here,” Ziggy says as he throws open a heavy wooden door, the hinges creaking softly in protest. “This is the room your mom and Aunt Cora shared their first year.”
I step into the room, and there’s a box on the far bed, dark wood polished to a high shine that catches the light from the tall windows. My curiosity has gotten the better of me, and I move closer, my boots silent on the cold stone floor. Reaching out, I lift the lid, and inside is a set of matched knives, the blades black as my scales and gleaming with deadly promise. I take one out and balance it on the edge of my finger, feeling the perfect weight distribution. “Perfectly balanced,” Isay more to myself than anyone else, admiration coloring my voice despite my confusion.
Carefully, I spin the blade in my hand. The metal is cool against my palm, and it feels like it was made for me, as if the weapon recognizes something in my touch. The craftsmanship is exquisite, each detail speaking of hours of careful work and considerable expense.
“Is that what I think it is?” Lily walks over and stares at the box, her eyes widening with recognition. She squeals and looks at Ziggy with excitement that makes her practically bounce. “Raven has a mating present!”
