Several dozen names are called, and then Thorne’s name rings out across the space. Orpheus bumps my shoulder, his elbow warm against my arm. “Think they have something against us?”
I laugh a little, the sound barely audible. “What, a basilisk and a black dragon? No, never...” We laugh together until his name is called, and we fist bump, our knuckles meeting with a soft tap that carries twenty years of shared victories and defeats.
Balor is a ball of anxious energy standing on the sidelines, his posture tense as a coiled spring. Corvis is beside him.When did he get there?His presence makes something flutter in my chest, though I can’t quite name what it is.
“Raven Mrithun.” My heart is in my throat as I stand and walk over to the table to receive my envelope, the paper warm from Samara’s touch. She smiles at me, her expression carrying something that might be approval, and I lower my head slightly to her before turning to leave.
I make it outside and see our family gathered together, waiting for me to open our envelopes together. The mountain air is crisp against my skin, carrying the scent of pine and the promise of change. “This is so exciting!” Mom practically squeals, her voice bright with anticipation and pride that makes my chest tight with love.
Smiling, I look at Allister, and he tears his envelope open quickly, the paper ripping with eager impatience. He reaches in slowly and pulls out a blue sash and a letter, the fabric smooth as water between his fingers. “Politics.” Klauth is overjoyed and hugs his son, and as soon as he lets go, Mom swoops in next, her embrace warm and fierce.
Thorne opens hers slowly and reaches into her envelope, pulling out another blue sash that catches the light like sky-colored silk. Momfurrows a brow, looking at the sash and then over at my dad with questioning eyes. Thorne laughs, the sound bright as silver bells. “Honestly, I don’t enjoy fighting. This is perfect for me.” She hugs Mom and all three of her dads, their group embrace warm with shared joy.
Orpheus pulls a coin out of his pocket, the metal catching the sunlight. “Call it.” The coin flips up into the air, spinning end over end, the sun glinting off the metal like captured lightning.
“Tails.” I watch it hit the ground with a soft ping, and it’s heads up. “Not it!” We laugh together, the sound echoing off the walls, and he opens his envelope with dramatic flair.
Orpheus pulls out a dark green sash, the color deep as forest shadows, and Balor dives in with an enthusiasm that makes his sunglasses slip down his nose. “A chip off the old block!” They high-five and chest-bump, their celebration making me shake my head at their antics while warmth spreads through my chest.
I step closer to my dad and lean against him, feeling his solid warmth through his shirt and breathing in his familiar scent, as I tear the top off my envelope. The paper gives way with a soft ripping sound, and it’s like my entire family is holding their breath, the silence so complete I can hear my heartbeat. I reach in and pull out a dark green sash, the fabric heavy in my hands and dark as midnight, and stare at it.
Dad kisses my temple, his lips warm against my skin, and Mom hugs me gently, her arms encircling me with love and pride that threatens to overflow from my chest.
It’s time to go to Shadowcarve and run the gauntlet. The thought sends electricity through my veins, part terror, and part anticipation, as I prepare to prove I’m worthy of the legacy that runs in my blood.
Chapter 4
Raven
It’sinteresting to think that Orpheus and I came fully dressed for running the gauntlet when our other siblings didn’t, our preparation obvious in every piece of carefully selected gear. “The terror twins strike again,” he says, bumping my shoulder with enough force to make my scales ripple beneath the leather. I laugh, the sound bright with anticipation and nervous energy.
“They won’t know what hit them.” We fist-bump as we walk through the gates side by side, our footsteps echoing off the ancient stone in perfect synchronization. I look around the interior as we cross the courtyard to head out the back gates, cataloging every detail with the thoroughness Mother drilled into us.
At the top of the posts are the trophies Abraxis had left for Mom to see he was worthy—skulls and weapons that gleam like deadly promises in the afternoon sunlight. Black dragons flex like that, displaying their victories like jewels. Reds will show the female their hoard or might, Bronze will shift and show off their pretty scales that shimmer like liquid metal. Greens will bring a kill for their intended mate, the fresh blood still warm on their claws. As for the other species, I haven’t met too many outside of the yearly gathering, butthe displays are a more private thing, intimate gestures of worthiness and desire.
“Welcome to the gauntlet.” Callan stands at the top of the structure, looking down at the eight of us who have arrived, his voice carrying the authority of someone who has survived what we’re about to face. The gauntlet looms before us like a mechanical beast, all steel, and shadow and the promise of pain.
Mom steps forward in her fighting leathers. The black material fitting her like a second skin and her swords strapped to her back, the hilts worn smooth from years of use. “Shadowcarve has a long-standing tradition of weeding out the weak. Only the strong will survive here.” Ziggy’s twins are here on the rampart with the other students or survivors of Shadowcarve. Their faces carrying the particular look of those who have faced death and lived to tell about it. “Partial shifting is allowed to survive. There are only two ways out—on a stretcher or out through the hatch at the top. May Tiamat protect you.” Mom’s voice drips with power as she moves off to the side, every step graceful as a hunting cat.
Leander is on the platform and welcomes the first student with the kind of smile that promises suffering. I spread my wings, feeling the familiar rush of air beneath the membranes, and land on the wall looking down to study the gauntlet once it’s set in motion. Every whir and clack is catalogued in my memory in relation to where the dot is on the tracker, the mechanical symphony telling me stories of crushing gears and swinging blades.
“You look like your mom when you study it,” Abraxis says, flying up to sit next to me, his wings creating a gust of wind that carries his familiar scent—leather and steel and the faint metallic tang of old blood.
“Know your enemy and know how to defeat it. I hear rollers, something swinging...” I pause, listening to the mechanical heartbeat of the killing machine below. “A floor that drops away and something thatgets fired.” I tilt my head several more times, my enhanced hearing picking up every mechanical nuance, every deadly promise hidden in the clockwork rhythm.
“Those things are definitely in there,” Abraxis says as he stares at the torture device before us, his voice carrying the respect of someone who understands exactly how many ways this machine can kill.
Orpheus moves to the platform and salutes before disappearing into the gauntlet like a shadow swallowed by deeper darkness. “He’ll be fine,” I smile, and one thing we didn’t tell the parents is that he has talons in his human form. They’re much smaller than mine, but they are there nonetheless, deadly little secrets hidden beneath human skin.
“How can you be so confident?” Abraxis asks as we leap off the wall, our feet hitting the ground with soft thuds that speak of perfect balance and predatory grace.
“All of you trained us,” I laugh a little and motion to my dad, feeling pride swell in my chest like dragon fire. “I’m Thauglor’s daughter, his heir, blood of his blood.” I say it loud enough for my father to hear me, and he beams with pride that makes my heart soar. “My mom is a six-time gauntlet winner when they had females running two gauntlets.” Mom smiles hearing me, her expression fierce with maternal approval. “I am Mommy’s little monster and Daddy’s terror. Some machine isn’t going to stop me.”
I walk toward the gauntlet, and Corvis steps between me and the stairs, his massive frame blocking my path like a wall of muscle and determination. His silver eyes seem to burn like twin stars, blazing with an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat.
“Please reconsider.” His voice is deep and rough, caught somewhere between a purr and a growl that sends shivers down my spine despite my determination. I watch his eyes drop briefly, locking on the new blades strapped to my ribs, the metal gleaming against the blackleather.Does he know it’s a mating present?The thought makes my stomach flutter with something I can’t quite name.
“We’ve trained for this.” I tilt my head, looking up at him, noting that gone is the smile I would usually see when he looks at me. His face is impassive, almost cold, like carved stone that refuses to reveal its secrets. I reach up and place a gloved hand on his cheek, the leather warm from my skin, and he leans into it with a desperation that makes my chest tight. That’s new, this hunger in his touch, this need that seems to radiate from his very pores.
