As I stand, I spread my wings wide, feeling the membranes stretch and the joints pop with relief. “Until now, I didn’t need to ride.”
“And you can’t fly during the procession,” Mom says, arching a brow at me, knowing full well I may try it anyway. The look in her eyes suggests she’s already considered tying me to the horse if necessary.
“Fine, I’ll go shower and then meet you at the stables.” I look over at Corvis and lower my head slightly to him before leaving the room, the gesture feeling more formal than our usual interactions. Only my first three steps outside of the room are heard before I move like a wraiththrough the house, my feet silent on stone floors that smell of age and dragon musk.
I step into my room and take a quick shower, the hot water sluicing away the last remnants of the tonic’s effects and making me feel more human again. Before searching my closet, I pause, noting that something feels different. Shaking my head, I see my mother had already been in my closet. Riding clothes and boots somehow arrived since the last time I was in here, the leather rich and supple and smelling of new craftsmanship.
Reluctantly, I get dressed and leave my room, heading toward the doors, the riding boots making soft sounds on the stone that echo differently than my usual footsteps. “Heading out?” My father says as he steps out into the hallway, his massive frame filling the doorway.
“Mom is sending me for riding lessons. Apparently, I’m riding in the procession.” I shrug my shoulders as I look up at him, seeing my own sapphire eyes reflected in his ancient gaze.
He flexes his wings, the membranes catching the light filtering through tall windows, and smiles. “I was already told I’m not allowed to fly either.” At his words, we laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls with shared amusement and resignation.
“We tried,” I say as my father loops his arm with mine to walk me out, his warmth solid and reassuring against my side. “Shifting or flying out?” he asks as we stop in the middle of the upper courtyard, where the mountain air is crisp and clean.
“To deny the beast is to restrict its growth and weaken it,” I smile as I repeat back to my father one of the first lessons he gave me when he taught me to fly, the words as familiar as my own heartbeat. “I’ll shift and fly. It’ll be nice to feel the wind against my scales.”
“Good, I’d like to see how she’s grown.” My dad backs away, giving me room to shift, his eyes bright with paternal pride and curiosity.
I can see my mom and Corvis coming out of the house, their figures moving across the courtyard with purposeful strides. My eyes move to my father as I focus on my shift, feeling the familiar pull deep in my bones. Scales of midnight ripple over my body as I grow and shift, the transformation flowing through me like liquid fire. The world shrinks below me as I become my dragoness, reality reshaping itself to accommodate my true form.
I turn my head slowly to watch each wing stretch out, feeling the membrane pull taut and catch the mountain breeze that carries the scent of pine and snow. When the shift is over, I lay down so my father can look my dragoness over, folding my legs beneath me with careful precision.
“You’ve grown again, Raven.” He steps close to me and rests his hand on the start of the curve of my horn on the side of my head, his touch warm against the polished bone. Unlike my father, my horns are silver from the start, gleaming like captured moonlight in the afternoon sun.
“Your dragoness is magnificent,” Mom says as she gets closer, her voice filled with maternal pride that makes my chest warm. She takes her sword and knocks the hilt against my scales, the metal ringing like a bell against my hide. “I think your scales are harder than mine. I didn’t think that was possible.”
Now Dad tries knocking his hilt against my scales, the sound different—sharper, more resonant. “I believe you’re right, Mina. Our daughter took our most terrifying traits.” Dad has that feral look in his eyes, the same look that I saw the one time a blue dragon male tried to buy me. He slaughtered him immediately, the memory still makes me shiver.
“Time to get going. Corvis, take the lead,” Mom says, and he takes off running, then shifts mid-stride and takes flight. His dragon is a silver and iron dragon cross, its scales catching and reflecting sunlight like polished steel. He looks more like he took after the silver in his blood, his hide gleaming where mine seems to absorb light like a living shadow.
I rise and run before taking off, feeling the familiar joy of flight fill my chest like captured starlight. With each flap of my wings moves me faster, and I catch up to Corvis, our flight paths interweaving like dancers in the sky. We play in the clouds, gliding back and forth above and below each other, our movements synchronized in ways that feel natural as breathing. There’s a comfort in our flight, almost like we are dancing in the clouds, our bodies moving in harmony despite our different natures.
In four short months, this is all over. The thought hits me like a physical blow, making my chest tight with unexpected sadness. It almost makes me melancholy thinking that I’ll never see my childhood crush after my mate makes his presence known, that this easy companionship will be lost to destiny.
Corvis banks to the right and circles down to land, his descent graceful as falling silk. I guess the stables are close to here. Drawing in a deep breath, I smell them then—horses and something else that’s equine but also touched by darkness, wild and fierce and tinged with supernatural power. I watch Corvis land and then shift back, his transformation fluid as water, before I go in for my landing.
When my feet touch the ground, I look around before I shift back, taking in the unfamiliar landscape with eyes trained to spot threats and opportunities. The grass beneath my feet is thick and soft, and the air carries scents of leather and hay and something else that makes my scales prickle with unease.
“Let’s look around and find you a horse to ride,” Corvis says as he motions to the stables on the other side of the field, the buildings looming like dark promises against the mountainside.
This is either going to be the greatest experience of my life or absolutely the worst day of my life. I stare at the stables and turn my face toward the winds blowing across the field, letting my enhanced senses catalog every scent and sound. Something new is here, a creature thatwasn’t here before, and the knowledge makes my dragon stir with interest and wariness in equal measure.
Chapter 7
Raven
We approach the stables,and I hear some horses panic. Their whinnies sharp with terror and the sound of hooves striking wood echoing through the air like gunshots. My nostrils flare, taking in the rich scent of hay and leather mixed with the metallic tang of fear-sweat, and my hearing pricks up, catching every nervous snort and shuffle. I feel my canines descend, sharp points pressing against my lower lip, and I turn away from the stables, covering my face with my hands as I try to force my instincts to subside.
“Are you okay, Raven?” Corvis looks at me with concern etched into every line of his face. His silver eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my chest flutter despite my current struggle.
“Prey drive,” I manage to say through gritted teeth, my voice strained as I shiver, trying to keep my dragoness contained. The predator in me wants to hunt, to chase, to sink teeth into warm flesh, and the urge is almost overwhelming.
He swoops in quickly and holds me tight against him, his arms strong and warm around my trembling form. He presses my face against his throat, and I can feel his pulse beating steadily beneath my cheek. “Breathe in my scent, draw strength from my drake,” he purrs softly for me, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine, and I do as I am told.
I press my forehead and the bridge of my nose to his throat, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight roughness of stubble. Closing my eyes, I listen to his heartbeat—steady, reassuring, like a metronome keeping time—and breathe in his scent deeply. He reminds me of fresh-baked bread, warm and comforting, mixed with the scent of ancient stone that carries the weight of centuries. He almost smells like my home, the nest I grew up in, and the familiarity helps anchor me.
After several minutes, I extend my wings and enclose us in them, the black membranes creating a private cocoon that blocks out the world. Containing our scents makes it easier to get my dragoness under control, the intimate space helping me focus on his calming presence rather than the prey animals nearby.
