3. Abraxis
Abraxis
Abaddon’s falcon swoops in just after dawn, a dark blur against the pale sky. It perches on my windowsill, its talons scraping the stone ledge as it waits for me to take the missive clutched in its talons. My gut clenches the moment I see the black wax seal. The message I’ve been dreading has arrived. Mina is on her way to the school.
I rip the seal and scan the letter quickly, my heart pounding harder with every word. Abaddon has detailed every brutal aspect of her training over the last twenty years. He’s made her lethal, honed her into something sharp enough to survive here. A third of the first years die within the first three months. Some don’t even make it past the assessment. The mock war games that pit student against student are just a bloodbath.
I force myself to focus, but my thoughts flicker to Mina. Twenty years of training, and now she’s walking straight into a nightmare. I feel a surge of possessiveness and dread. She’s going to need more than what Abaddon taught her if she wants to survive in this place .
The falcon caws, reminding me of its presence. I glance at the remaining item it carried—a folded photograph of Mina. Abaddon enclosed it, as if to show me who she is now. My mate . Or betrothed, as far as he knows. I run my thumb over the image; her face is both familiar and foreign.
Without another thought, I hand it off to Zigmander, my second-in-command, who’s been watching me with narrowed eyes. “Make sure my betrothed is in your group,” I say, my voice low but firm. “Arista’s flight is here this year, and you know she’s still bitter that my family refused her father’s marriage proposal. If she catches wind of Mina, she’ll make sure Mina doesn’t survive her first week.”
Zigmander nods, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—curiosity or maybe concern—but he doesn’t question me. Instead, he palms the photograph as Balor strides into the room, taking everything in with a knowing glance.
“Your betrothed, huh?” Balor mutters, swiping the image from Zigmander’s hand before I can protest. His dark eyes sweep over the photograph, and a smirk curls his lips. “She’ll end up in my class by the looks of her. Greens are notorious for preferring poison over direct combat. Weakness, in my opinion.”
I clench my jaw but say nothing. He’s right. If Mina is a typical green, her preferred method of survival will be subtlety, not strength. And here, subtlety only gets you so far before someone’s blade finds your back.
Balor arches a brow at me, the smirk never leaving his face. “Good luck with that, Abraxis. She’ll need it.”
Standing on the stone landing above the dorms, I have the perfect vantage point to watch the students as they approach. My gaze sweeps across the sea of faces, but I’m not looking for just anyone. My sister, Cora, was placed in the same room as Mina—by my hand. A gem dragon will not protect Mina from anything, but I’ll make sure she’s taken care of. Zigmander leads the group toward the dorm, and as soon as my eyes catch the mass of green and silver hair, my breath catches in my throat.
Her horns are regal and towering over her, unmistakable. Her petite, toned form stands out, but it’s her golden eyes that ensnare me. She looks up, and I feel it—the pull. Before I can stop myself, my wings snap out to their full span, a reflex, betraying me in the worst way possible. Her gaze locks with mine, and there’s no doubt. She’s my mate.
Ziggy arches a brow, catching my reaction, but I can barely move. My face betrays nothing—I hope. My wings refuse to cooperate, trembling with the tension in the air. I struggle to get them under control. Then I hear it—Arista’s voice, smug and possessive.
“See? I told you he’s mine.” The claim alone sends anger surging through me, and my wings snap back in place as fury twists inside me.
My eyes never leave my mate. Her sharp gaze darts from Arista back to me, calculating, reading the tension in the air. The tilt of her head shows she’s smart—she already knows. Arista isn’t mine, not even close. My mate doesn’t need words to piece it together. Her gaze shifts quickly, scanning the other females in her group, trying to figure out who, exactly, I’m staring at so intently.
For now, though, she doesn’t know the truth. I can keep this secret a little while longer. She’ll only recognize me as hers when we’re both in our dragon forms, and by then, the bond will be undeniable. But for now, I watch, tension coiling in my chest, knowing that the moment she realizes the truth, everything will change.
Zigmander leads the group inside, and I can finally breathe when she’s safely within the dragon dorms. The weight on my chest loosens just enough to remind me I need her close. The north tower is where my friends and I keep our rooms, conveniently near the third-floor chamber where my mate will be staying. I won’t relax until I know she’s secured. My eyes drift over to Leander, who wears that smug grin that usually means trouble.
“Say it...” I sigh. Might as well rip the bandage off now.
“You’re in deep shit, you know that, right?” Leander drawls, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Your drake won’t settle until you can claim her. Or, at the very least, provide for her.” That damn nightmare of his is always too smart for his own good, reading my every thought before I can even voice them.
“It’s already done.” My hand instinctively moves to the pommel of the sword at my hip, a silent promise to both myself and her. “I left gifts on their beds. My sister’s has my name. The one for my mate—unsigned. Her friend’s card too. No signatures.”
I glance over the expanse of the campus, trying to push down the unease coiling tighter in my gut. It’s an expanse of stone, shadowed by the approaching night, and it feels far too exposed for my liking.
“Will your sister sell you out?” Balor’s voice cuts through, casual as ever. He sits on the stone rail, back to the sprawling campus below, but his tone holds a sharpness that tells me he’s paying more attention than he lets on .
“Not if she wants to know who her betrothed is.” I arch a brow, my gaze flicking between them. They know better than to press that point. The silence stretches as Balor considers the implication.
“Arista’s flight will be an issue,” Leander says, inspecting his nails as though this entire conversation bores him, but I catch the shift in his stance. He’s not as indifferent as he looks.
“Maybe,” I admit, though the twist in my gut tells me it’s more than ‘maybe.’ “Then again, my mate’s smart. Skilled, if her father’s letter is truthful about her training.”
That’s what unsettles me most—Abaddon’s reputation for weaving truth with lies like a well-spun web. Greens are notorious for twisting everything. Tomorrow’s assessment will reveal how much of what he said holds water. My gut twists tighter, a knot of anticipation and worry.
I can’t afford to be wrong about her.
The door bangs open nearly thirty minutes later, and Ziggy saunters outside, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. I arch a brow, waiting for him to explain, and he chuckles as if he’s holding back a secret too good to keep. “I think Mina might kill Arista herself.”
My wings twitch, leather rustling as I shift to face him fully, trying to appear relaxed, though his words grip my attention. “What do you mean?” My voice comes out steady, but there’s an edge to it I can’t quite hide.
Zigmander grins wider, clearly enjoying this. “Arista was going on about how you’re hers and all that nonsense. You should’ve seen it, Abraxis. The dragonic slits flashed in Mina’s eyes—cold, lethal. She didn’t say a word, just turned and stared Arista down like she was prey. Then, out of nowhere, she pulls a blade. Had her pinned to the wall, the point right at her jugular.” His laughter spills out, rough and gleeful. He stops watching me, but I don’t return the amusement.
“What happened?” Leander cuts in, his tone sharp, thankfully asking the question that’s burning in my throat. Otherwise, Ziggy would be on the receiving end of my temper.
Ziggy leans back, crossing his arms, relishing the tension. “Mina gripped Arista’s jaw, turned her head side to side—” He glances at me knowingly, and I already understand. Mina was checking for the mate mark, the unmistakable bite of a drake on his claimed female.
He continues, “Then Mina shoves her—hard. Arista lands flat on her ass. Mina called her out, said that if she was truly yours, being a black dragon, your mark would be visible for everyone to see.” Ziggy’s laughter softens into a low, amused rumble. “She shut that pompous bitch right up. But I’ll tell you, she probably made an enemy for life.”
I can’t disagree. Ziggy’s right—Mina’s earned herself a dangerous foe. My mark would be unmistakable if Arista were telling the truth. I feel the weight of the situation settling in, the precarious balance Mina’s just shattered. “She’s right,” I mutter, my gaze shifting in the direction where I know Mina is. “If Arista were mine, my mark would be visible for all to see.”
A flicker of pride mixes with concern. Mina’s sharp. Her father must’ve taught her well about drake customs, about how different species claim their mates. But even that knowledge doesn’t ease the tight coil of worry in my chest. I glance back at Leander and Ziggy, knowing full well the challenges ahead. These next few years will test every shred of my sanity. A drake can only go so long without his mate once she’s matured, and Mina is close— dangerously close —to being everything I need.
And Arista? She won’t let that go. The problem is, neither will I.
It’s well past midnight, and the halls of the dorm are quiet, almost too quiet. Perfect time to walk, check on the new students—or at least that’s what I tell myself. Who am I kidding? I’m here for her. My mate .
Ziggy drags his feet beside me, yawning, but I don’t care. I need to see her to make sure she’s safe. My eyes fix on the thick wooden door, a solid two inches of barrier separating me from her. Wordlessly, Ziggy grips my arm, his fingers cold as he phases us through the door with a single breath. No sound, no disturbance—just darkness enveloping us as we step inside.
My sister took the bed closest to the door, just like I asked. Always dependable. If anything happens, she can reach me through our bond in seconds. The middle bed... her friend. Gem dragons are so fragile. It’s laughable she’s even here. I doubt she’ll survive tomorrow. The thought passes, dark and dismissive, as my focus sharpens on the bed near the window.
Her silver-green hair spills across the pillow like a cascade of moonlight, her chest rising softly beneath the blanket I gave her. I marked it with my scent before I sent it to her. A silent claim, a warning to anyone who dares touch her. She clutches it close, curled against the fabric like it’s a lifeline.
My gaze sharpens. There, under the pillow—her hand. I crouch, quiet as a shadow, and gently lift the corner of the pillow to reveal the pommel of a dagger tucked beneath her fingers. A slow smile curls at the edge of my lips. Clever. Smart mate.
Without a word, I place another bandolier of knives on the desk. She’ll need them for tomorrow. The desk is cluttered with books on poisons, open pages covered in her neat script, alongside vials—full and unmarked. Prepared, as far as I’m allowed to interfere.
The thought of what tomorrow holds gnaws at the back of my mind, but I push it aside. I have other matters to attend to first. Lysander, the headmaster, will need to know my mate has arrived. And my schedule—everything—will need to change. For her. Only for her.
I linger a moment longer, taking in the sight of her, memorizing the peaceful rise and fall of her chest. Then, with one last look, I step back into the shadows with Ziggy. She’s safe for now.