16. Abraxis
Abraxis
We’re well into the second quarter, and my mate is avoiding me like the plague. Every time I try to approach her, she slips away, leaving a gaping ache in my chest. It’s a constant reminder of how badly I’ve screwed up. I’ve left dozens of presents for her—mostly weapons and her favorite snacks—scattered between her bed in the dorm and her room at Shadowcarve. She takes the items, carefully moving them to sit somewhere within reach but never touching them more than necessary.
Cora says she cries herself to sleep at night. My heart twists painfully at the thought. She hasn’t said more than two words to anyone since that night at the party. My friends all say the same. We made a horrible mistake keeping the truth from her, and now it feels like she’s slipping further and further away from me. I stare down at the crumpled schedule Lysander gave me; she should be in her art class right now.
With a basket of food in my hand, I head toward the studio building, hoping she’ll give me even a second of her time. As I turn the corner and glance into the courtyard, I’m surprised to see Callan sitting beside her. My feet hesitate mid-step. They’re perched near the back, under the shade of the sprawling cherry tree, and Mina is quietly painting, oblivious to my presence. Her hair catches the light, but there’s no familiar spark in her gaze.
I steel myself and approach. “Hey, everyone.”
Callan looks up and flashes me a smile that’s a little too bright. “Hey, man. How are you?” He stands and clasps my hand, squeezing lightly.
“Hopefully, Mina will grant me the pleasure of her presence for a picnic.” I risk a glance her way. Her eyes flick to mine, wary but searching. After what feels like an eternity, she nods slowly and stands, carefully wiping her hands on a rag.
Mina walks off without another word, making her way towards the cherry trees lining the far side of the courtyard. I follow behind her, glancing over my shoulder at her canvas. My breath catches when I see what she’s been working on. She’s painting me—the mask from the dance, haunting and vivid on the canvas. A pit of guilt forms in my stomach. I jog to catch up with her, and she’s already seated on the stone edge of the fountain feature at the center of the grove. The cherry blossoms sway gently around her, their soft pink petals floating down like snow.
She looks … thinner. Dark circles shadow her eyes, and the light I love so much is dulled, almost hollow. My chest tightens, but I force myself to keep my expression calm, even as my heart aches to reach out and touch her.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, dropping down beside her. “I’ve spent so long hiding what we are that it became second nature.”
She blinks slowly, her gaze skimming over me before settling on the basket I set between us. “What do you mean ‘so long’?” Her voice is soft but brittle, like a porcelain figurine on the verge of cracking.
I swallow hard, throat tightening as I try to find the words. “I knew the minute you looked at me after you hatched,” I admit, forcing myself to meet her gaze. She’s stopped reaching for the basket, her hand hovering over the handle.
“You knew back then?” Her head tilts slightly to the side. I know that look—she’s searching for more, needing the pieces to fit together.
“It’s rare, but it happens. The moment you turned to face me, and your eyes locked with mine, I felt it. Mom told me that because of who our parents are, I had to hide the bond to protect you until you got your dragon.”
The silence stretches between us, heavy and charged. Slowly, she pulls out a sandwich and sets it on the rim of the fountain, her hands trembling slightly. “So … it’s not that you were ashamed of me because of being half-green dragon?” Her voice wavers, and I see it—the flicker of pain she’s tried so hard to bury. That’s the issue . Because of who her father is, she’s been terrified that I was hiding her.
“Never.” I shake my head vehemently. “Because of who our dads are, they have enemies everywhere. I didn’t want my mate to die before she knew who I was to her. Being betrothed to you was just an added bonus to the mate bond.” I watch her take a hesitant bite of the sandwich, and she sighs, the sound breaking something fragile in me.
“So … that’s why everyone was so invested in keeping me safe? Were they even really my friends?” Her bottom lip quivers, and I feel my resolve cracking .
“In the beginning, to them, it was just an assignment,” I confess, handing her a bottle of water. “But now? The three of them are pissed off at me because you’re not talking to them. They miss you, Mina. They really do.” She’s staring at me now, tears glistening in her eyes. The weight of all those unshed emotions hangs between us, and I know that no matter what I say, it won’t be enough to take away the hurt I caused. But I’ll keep trying. Every day, I’ll keep trying.
“Please,” I whisper, voice rough with emotion, “just give us a chance to make it right. Let us prove that we truly care about you.”
Mina nods slowly and looks up at me, the soft light of the sun through the canopy casting delicate shadows across her face. “Okay, we can try.” Her hand lifts, and the tips of her fingers gently trace over the spot where I marked her. The slight pressure of her touch sends a warm hum through the bond we share, and I can’t help but lean into it. “This is a phenomenal deterrent for most of the population.” She smirks, lips twitching as if fighting to break into a full smile.
I reach up and touch the bite I bear—her mark on me—mirroring her motion. The faint sting of the scar reminds me of everything we’ve been through. For the first time in weeks, my smile is genuine, spreading across my face in a way that feels both unfamiliar and comforting. “I know what you mean,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. There’s something about this shared vulnerability that grounds me in the moment.
“Sorry, not sorry…” She winks, the gesture playful and full of mischief, her head tilting just so, allowing her hair to spill over her shoulder like a silken waterfall. I swallow, the sight of her—defiant, resilient—making my chest tighten.
“Will you allow me to walk you to Callan’s class?” I ask softly, pulling my phone from my pocket and glancing at the time. I hold it up for her to see, hoping she’ll agree. Hoping this will be another step forward for us.
“It would be nice,” she says, a hint of relief coloring her tone. “I need to clean up from art class first, then we can go.” She stands up, every movement unhurried, as if testing to see if I’ll wait. Of course, I will. I’d wait for her forever if she asked. Mina packs up the basket with deliberate care and hands it to me, the woven handle warm from her touch.
I follow behind her, excitement building low in my gut, making my pulse quicken. She’s willing to talk to me again. No more secrets between us. We’re going to work on becoming a team, to be what we once were, and maybe … even more. “How are your classes going?” I ask as we reach her station. The lingering scent of paint and turpentine fills the air, mingling with her unique scent—sandalwood and something distinctly Mina.
She packs up her paints, wiping her hands on a rag before throwing a cover over her latest piece. “The required courses are boring as all hell,” she says with a dismissive wave, her gaze briefly flicking to the canvas. “The designation classes, for the most part, are easy. Dad taught me most of this stuff before I turned ten.” She shrugs, the gesture casual, but I don’t miss the way her shoulders tighten ever so slightly, as if holding back more than she’s letting on.
She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small pamphlet, holding it out to me with a contemplative look. “It’s from my politics class. Page eighty-seven mentions that dragonesses have multiple mates for a strong nest. But it says on page ninety that mates outside of the female’s species are frowned upon but not forbidden.” Her eyes narrow as she searches my face, waiting for my reaction .
Swallowing hard, I draw in a deep breath, willing my voice to remain steady. “It’s possible for a female to have multiple mates. The main reason it’s frowned upon is that the male will never have a child of his species with the female. As long as he accepts that, it’s not a bad thing. Dragons will always produce dragons. Manticores will always produce manticores, and basilisks will produce basilisks.” My gaze locks onto hers, the words falling softly between us. “Do you want other mates with us?”
The question hangs heavy in the air, thick with unspoken implications. Her breath catches, and she freezes, staring at me like I’ve just unraveled some forbidden secret. “I get the feeling from Callan … there may be something there.” Her voice is barely a murmur as she touches the same eye Callan is missing, her fingertips ghosting over her own skin. I nod, the memory of his hesitation, his self-doubt, washing over me. “But he said it today—he’s not worthy of a mate because he’s damaged.” Her gaze is distant, the words tinged with frustration and a sadness I wish I could wipe away.
“If he has a mate, she will have to show him he’s worthy,” I reply, shrugging as if it’s that simple. Maybe it is. Maybe he just needs to see himself through her eyes. I pick up her bag, adjusting the strap over my shoulder, and glance down the path towards Shadowcarve. The shadows there seem to swirl and twist, like a living thing waiting to pull us in.
“Shall we?” My voice is lighter now, the weight of the conversation lessened by the thought of walking beside her.
She nods, her steps quickening as if eager to leave the art class behind. I fall into step beside her, our shoulders brushing, and for the first time in a long while, the silence between us feels comfortable—like a promise of what’s to come. A new beginning .
Leander’s eyebrows shoot up as he spots us standing together at the double doors to Shadowcarve. The surprise on his face is almost comical, but I raise a finger to my lips, signaling for silence. He blinks slowly, then nods, gaze flicking from me to Mina, who tilts her head curiously and steps into his space.
“You meant well,” she murmurs softly, her voice a gentle hum that vibrates between us. Her fingertips brush his cheek before she continues on into the courtyard without another glance back.
Leander’s eyes narrow in confusion, his head tilting to the side like a curious hound. “What changed?” His tone is cautious, wary, as he falls into step beside me. We both watch Mina’s figure disappear into her suite to get changed, her movements smooth and controlled—too controlled for someone who’s been through what she has.
“I told her the rest of the truth.” The words are heavy on my tongue, each syllable laced with the weight of confessions and secrets unearthed. I glance down at the backpack in my hand. “We did it to protect her, not to hurt her or hide who she was to me. But it’s going to take time. Time to rebuild the bridges we broke.”
Leander’s sudden laughter startles me. It’s sharp and loud, drawing the attention of a few students lingering near the gates. “For your sake, it better be,” he chuckles, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “I think Balor may want to run you through—he misses his buddy.”
An icy shiver runs down my spine. I can’t tell if he’s serious or joking; Leander’s sense of humor has always been twisted, especially when emotions run high. One thing’s certain, though—Balor hasn’t spoken two words to me since the night Mina took off, tears streaming down her face like shattered crystal.
“Where is he?” I murmur, catching sight of Mina now in her leathers, her stride confident as she ascends the stairs toward the classroom. Every muscle in my body tenses as I think of what’s coming—our confrontation with the others.
“Talking to Callan. Ziggy’s there as well,” Leander answers, his voice low. We both know what that means: the entire crew will be there. And the second Mina steps through that door, it’s going to feel like an ambush. A setup. All of them gathered in one place, waiting.
Waiting for her.
“Hopefully she’s in a good mood today,” Leander mutters. “Seeing everyone in one place might be too much for her.”
I nod absently, pulse hammering like a war drum in my ears. My gaze drifts to the clouds, the dark edges curling inward like a brewing storm. Bahamut, if you’re listening, grant me one more gift—understanding. Understanding to help her see why we did what we did. Understanding to soothe the ache in her chest when she faces the people she thinks betrayed her.
We reach the top of the stairs, and I can see the outline of her shadow slipping through the door. For a second, the world narrows to just that—the sway of her hair, the way her shoulders tighten almost imperceptibly.
Leander’s hand claps on my shoulder, startling me back to the present. “Whatever happens in there, Abraxis, you’ve got this. You have to.”
I swallow hard, fingers tightening around the strap of her backpack. “Yeah. Let’s hope she sees it that way.”
And with that, we step inside, following her into the unknown, every instinct on high alert.