“I will not die today,” I say, laughing a little at the absurdity of his worry. “Besides, who else is going to kick your ass in sword training if it’s not me?” I run my thumb from the corner of his mouth to his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of stubble through my glove and the way his jaw clenches under my touch. “Trust me.”
He exhales loudly; the sound carries defeat and resignation, and gives me a slight nod before closing his eyes and moving out of my way. Losing his warmth leaves me feeling strangely cold, though I push the sensation aside.
As long as I’ve known Corvis, he’s been overprotective of me, but this feelsdifferent—more intense, more desperate. I look back down at him as he stares up at me like someone murdered his puppy, his expression so devastated it makes my chest ache. My heart hurts seeing him that upset, but I know this needs to be done. I turn back to Leander as I pull my face mask up and tie it in place, the familiar weight settling over my features like armor.
“You know the drill.” The way Leander says it, I know there are live threats, poisons, and moving pieces inside that could kill me in a dozen different ways. I nod my head at him before letting my silver talons extend, feeling the familiar burn as bone and keratin push through human fingertips to reveal the weapons beneath.
I step inside and shift my eyes to my dragon’s, the world suddenly becoming sharper, more vivid, as predatory vision replaces humansight. I see the moving pieces and choose to leap to the ceiling, using my talons to crawl along the beams, the wood cold and slightly damp under my claws. There’s something alive up ahead—I can smell it, a musty, predatory scent that makes my scales prickle with warning.
I use my wings and drop to the ground silently, my feet touching stone without so much as a whisper of sound. Creeping forward, I see movement in the shadows ahead. Two dire spiders, their bodies massive and glistening with venom that catches the dim light. One is turned to stone—probably thanks to my brother and his stone gaze. The other is pacing around, its legs clicking against the stone floor in a rhythm that speaks of hunger and patience.
I take a step back, and a click sounds, sharp and mechanical in the silence. Without thinking, I leap up and narrowly miss getting impaled by bolts firing out of the walls on both sides, the metal projectiles whistling past my ears close enough that I can feel the displaced air.
I guess Mom was serious about upping her gauntlet game this year. Looking back, the spider is gone, vanished like smoke into the shadows. “Shit.” I made a rookie mistake—I took my eyes off my target, exactly the error that gets shadowblades killed in the field. There are two choices, well realistically three. First, charge through the room and hope to get past the spider. Second, wait it out—dire spiders, if I remember right, are not the most patient bunch. Three, use myself as bait and get it to reveal itself, then kill it.
Throwing caution to the wind, I leap down and land close to its dead partner, the stone corpse cold and lifeless beneath my boots. A high-pitched scream fills the air, the sound so shrill it makes my teeth ache, and I hear its legs moving across stone like claws on glass. It shoots webbing at me, and the sticky strands hit my thigh, clinging to the leather with the tenacity of liquid cement.
I lower my mask and then stretch my jaw, partially shifting my mouth, and build up acid, feeling the familiar burn as my body chemistrychanges. When the spider charges, its massive form bears down on me like a nightmare made flesh. I spit acid in its face before dropping some into my hand to wipe the webbing away. The acid hisses and bubbles as it hits, filling the air with the acrid smell of burning chitin. I burn half of its face off, and its spinning in circles, screaming in agony that echoes off the walls.
Reaching back, I draw my matched swords. The blades sing as they clear their sheaths, and charge. Two quick swipes with my swords, and I sever the legs on the right side, black ichor spraying across the stone. Then I cut what’s left of its face off, the head separating with a wet sound that makes my stomach clench. Using the tip of my sword, I pry the fangs out of its melted head, the venom glands still pulsing with deadly toxin. I slide both into the pack on my lower back before putting my swords away and starting my climb, my hands, and feet finding purchase on stone slick with spider blood.
I reach the roof, and Ziggy is standing there waiting for me, his grin wide with pride and relief. “There’s my terror.” We laugh together, and out of all of Mom’s children, I was the least problematic—ironic, considering what I just did to that spider.
“That’s me,” I say, smiling as I walk to the edge. “I'll meet you down there.” I wink before I turn and spread my large wings, feeling the familiar rush of air beneath the membranes, and glide down to my family, the wind carrying me like a dark angel returning to earth.
Before anyone can get to me, I walk over to my parents and offer them each a spider fang with poison gland attached, the venom still gleaming wet and deadly. “My gift to you.” They hug me and kiss my temple, their warmth, and pride wrapping around me like a blanket.
“Corvis was worried about you,” Mom mentions, motioning to where he’s standing by himself, his posture so rigid with tension that speaks of barely controlled emotion.
I walk silently across the courtyard, my feet making no sound on the stone, and hug him from behind, wrapping my arms around his waistand pressing my face against his back. “I’m back.” His body is tense in my arms, every muscle rigid as steel, and I let go as if touching him burned me, confusion and hurt flooding through my chest. “Oh goddess, you found your mate. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know...”
I back away with my hands up, my heart breaking at the thought that I’ve somehow violated the bond between him and another. It can be the only explanation of why me holding him made him stiffen like that. Why my touch suddenly seems unwelcome. Before anyone can stop me, I take flight, my wings carrying me up and away from the pain in his eyes and the confusion in my heart.
I messed up big time. I can only hope his mate is understanding, that my years of casual affection haven’t ruined something precious. If I ruined his chance to have his mate, I will never forgive myself. The thought follows me into the sky like a shadow, dark and unforgiving as the mountain peaks that surround us.
Chapter 5
Corvis
Twenty yearsof watching my mate grow up with me has been heaven and hell in the same breath. Each day a sweet torment of being so close yet unable to claim what my dragon knows belongs to us. We have a bond, probably stronger than the one Abraxis forged with Mina without her knowing all those years ago, invisible threads that pull at my chest every time she’s near. Ziggy told me Raven liked the daggers, but it’s not what she would have picked for herself. The knowledge sits in my stomach like a cold stone.
Her desires are simple, delicate things that speak to the gentle heart hidden beneath her predator’s training. Sea glass and seashells both take time and patience to find, treasures polished by endless waves until they’re smooth as silk and catch the light like captured starlight. She likes her dark chocolate with caramel from the little store in town. The rich sweetness that makes her eyes close in bliss when she takes that first bite. Her choice in books is usually romance novels, worn paperbacks that smell of hopes and dreams. Interestingly enough, most of them, from what Ziggy tells me, are friends-to-lovers stories. Deep down, she should know what I am to her, even if herdragon won’t consciously let her recognize the truth burning between us.
Three and a half more months until she turns twenty-one, and every day feels like an eternity stretched thin as a wire. I won’t change my patterns so she can find me if she needs me. My schedule is as reliable as the sunrise because the thought of her needing me and not being there makes my chest feel like it’s caving in. Honestly, I spend more time with her flight than the one I was born into, drawn to her like metal to a magnet. My drake won’t let me leave my mate unprotected; the instinct is so strong it makes my teeth ache when I try to stay away too long.
“You seem lost in thought, Corvis.” Thauglor’s deep voice catches me off guard, rumbling like distant thunder. I turn slowly to face him, forcing my shoulders to relax from their rigid posture.
“Counting the days, sir. I hate having to hide a secret from Raven.” I lower my head out of respect for my mate’s father, though every cell in my body wants to claim what’s mine. The silver scales along my neck feel warm with suppressed emotion.
“It’s understandable. All the first-year females are in a new course on dragonic courtship and mate bonds. Seeing that my flight has so many females in it, I figured it would be a good course to have.” He smiles at me and looks back at the gauntlet as his nest mates shut it down for the night, the mechanical sounds of gears disengaging filling the air like the sighs of sleeping giants. “She’s in Shadowcarve courses for most of the day. She tested exceptionally high in the basic courses, so she’s not required to take a bulk of the first-year offerings.” I can hear the pride in Thauglor’s voice, warm and rich as aged whiskey.
“Besides your mate, Raven is one of the smartest people I know.” I kick a few rocks around. The small stones skitter across the courtyard with soft clicks that echo off the mountain walls.
“What’s bothering you?” He rests a hand on my shoulder, and I sigh, the sound carrying twenty years of longing and frustration.
“I left her perfectly balanced daggers with bone hilts made from one of my more impressive kills. According to Ziggy, she likes them, but...” I shake my head, not knowing how to express the hollow feeling in my chest. The sense that I’ve failed her in some fundamental way.
“If she didn’t like them, she wouldn’t have worn them today. She knows the gifts from her mate are very important,” Thauglor says as he watches the cleanup crew resetting the gauntlet, their movements efficient and practiced.
