“Fair enough. For now, I need to find Keir and get to weapons class.” I move between both dads, giving them hugs, breathing in their scents one more time. “Love you, bye!” I yell on my way out the door, my voice echoing down the stone corridor.
Now to hunt down mate number three. The bond pulls me in his direction—stronger now after our bonding—and I follow it through the academy like a thread connecting our souls.
But even as I walk, part of me stays vigilant. Someone out there is watching. And now that I’m healing, now that I’m stronger, they might be planning their next move.
I just have to be ready when they do.
The hallways feel longer than usual, the shadows deeper. Every corner could hide a threat. Every unfamiliar face could belong to the enemy.
But I’m not the same dragon who fell from the sky. I’m stronger now. I have three mates, three fathers, and abilities I’m still learning to control.
And I will protect what’s mine.
Always.
I love weapons class.
Sighing, I lean against the cool stone wall between Orpheus and Keir, watching Balor and Abraxis demonstrate the new moves for today. Their blades sing through the air, steel catching the afternoon light. “The terror twins are at it again.” I bump shoulders with Orpheus, feeling his warmth through our shirts.
“Yeah, it has a whole new meaning now.” Orpheus’s smile is radiant, transforming his usually serious face, and he looks over to the sidelines where his mate is waiting for him on the bench. I believe the female’s name is Eila if I’m correct—petite with dark hair and shy eyes.
“How’s your mate doing?” I whisper softly to my brother, keeping my voice low enough that only he can hear.
“Very good. She’s picked up time in the gardens and nursery.” He offers her a little wave, and she blushes, the color spreading across her cheeks like sunrise.
“Raven versus Keir.” Abraxis calls out, and I shake my head. Bastard is doing it on purpose. He knows I won’t lose my temper with my mate. He’s testing me, pushing boundaries I’m still learning to navigate.
“After you.” Keir says with a deep bow and a sweep of his arm toward the ring, his storm-gray eyes warm with affection.
I lower my head to him and proceed to the designated spot, my boots crunching on the packed earth. “Rules?”
“No maiming or murder.” Abraxis spits out, his tone clipped. “First blood or whoever yields first.”
I arch a brow, looking at Keir. “He’ll yield because he doesn’t like sparring with me. Why don’t you spar me, General? Wing spikes and talons allowed, no killing or maiming?” My eyes dart over to my mom, and she moves forward, her expression shifting to something predatory.
“No wing spikes, and I’ll spar you.” Mom says, and the courtyard falls silent. The training sounds—grunts, steel on steel, breathing—all cease. Everyone turns to watch.
I’ve got two inches in height on my mom and about three inches of reach over her. But she has twenty more years of experience than I do—twenty years of battles, wars, kills. “Deal. Summon all the dads.” I glance over at Corvis and Keir as I pull on the bond with Hemlocke, sending urgency through the connection. This is going to be the battle to end all battles.
Balor walks over to me as I strip out of my leather jacket, the material sliding off my shoulders. The air hits my bare arms, raising goosebumps. “What are you doing? You need your leathers.”
“Dad, I’m okay. I promise.” It’s the first time I’ve called Balor dad, and he pauses, staring at me, trying not to react. I can see the emotions flickering across his face—pride, fear, love.
“Scales?” He looks at my arms as they rise, black armor rippling up from my wrists to my shoulders. I can almost control where what scales rise now—a skill I’m still mastering. My arms and legs, I notice, are scaled like a basilisk. Their scales are harder than any known dragon scales ever to exist, except maybe mine and Mom’s. “They’re like mine.” He whispers, his voice thick. I nod as I look up at him, seeing my reflection in his eyes.
I tie my mask over my face after I braid my hair back, the leather straps tight against my skull. I roll my shoulders as I raise the scalesup over my throat just in case—vulnerable flesh hidden behind impenetrable armor. Flexing my wings several times, I stretch my limbs before taking a fighting stance with both swords drawn. The weight of the blades feels right in my hands, an extension of my body.
“Mina, reconsider.” Thauglor says as Mom ties her mask over her face. She does like I did—no leather jacket, scales for armor on her arms that shimmer iron and emerald.
“You know I can’t. I need to know she’s ready for the flight. You don’t inherit the title of dominant dragoness. You earn it.” Mom says, and I see the wisdom in it. Power without earning it is no power at all. This is my test.My trial by combat.
“Ladies, you know the rules. No maiming, no killing, no cutting off of limbs or blinding. No acid, no lightning, and no use of familiars in the battle.” Callan adds, his voice carrying across the silent courtyard.
We walk to the center of the ring and bump fists. Her knuckles are hard against mine, scales meeting scales. “Don’t hold back, Raven. I am not your mother in this ring. I am a threat to your nest and hatchlings. I am a threat to your mates’ safety.” Mom says, and I feel the rage boiling under my skin like acid waiting to be released. My vision tints red at the edges, the world narrowing to just her.
“Fight!” Callan calls out, and Mom charges.
Everything seems to move in slow motion. My heartbeat fills my ears—a thunderous drum that drowns out everything else. I sidestep, my body moving on instinct honed by years of training, bringing one sword up to block. Steel screams against steel, the vibration traveling up my arm. I strike out with the flat side of the blade to Mom’s thigh. The impact reverberates through the metal.
