Chapter 10 Mina
Mina
I swear heads are gonna roll if the elders don’t get in line.
The way their eyes snap to my other mates makes the scales on my shoulders stand on edge, a prickling sensation that sends shivers down my spine.
Their scent—old parchment and smoke with undertones of arrogance—fills my nostrils, making my upper lip curl in distaste.
“A basilisk?” One of the male elders says, his voice dripping with disgust, and I lunge for him, talons out. The sound of my talons extending is like blades being unsheathed. The sensation of my nails hardening into deadly points, both familiar and exhilarating.
Thauglor grabs me around my waist, his hands firm and hot against my skin, and hauls me backward.
The scent of him—ancient stone and thunderstorms—envelops me as he pulls me against his chest. “Mate, he can be as closed-minded as he wants. Balor wears your scale. You survived his bite and stone gaze.” The minute Thauglor mentions my immunity to Balor’s basilisk gifts, the elder steps back, shutting up immediately.
I can smell the sour tang of fear rising from him, see the rapid pulse at his throat as he swallows hard.
“You are the dominant dragoness in this part of the continent. The elders would be fools to challenge you or your choices,” Klauth says as he stares down the elders, his voice a deep rumble that vibrates through the floor and into my bones.
The heat from his body radiates outward, warming the surrounding air until it’s almost stifling.
I nod my head, listening to my two ancient mates.
The weight of their presence behind me is reassuring, like a stone wall at my back.
“As you can see, I had two of the cursed eggs hatch for me and are mates of mine.” I smirk a little, feeling my lips curve upward, tasting the satisfaction sweet on my tongue.
“We invited you here as a courtesy. I am not seeking your permission. I am telling you, I am claiming the right of succession.” Slowly, I cross my arms under my chest and stare at the elders, taking in their stiff postures.
The tension in their jaws, the way their scales shift subtly beneath their human forms.
“The right of succession can only be claimed by a male,” the female elder says, her voice brittle like dried leaves crushing underfoot. The scent of her perfume—too sweet, cloying—makes my nose wrinkle.
“No, actually the right of succession states that the most powerful progeny of the drake may challenge or hunt their sire. It further says that they may name another to find or hunt down their target. The last part of the right of succession states that if they are not evenly matched, I can name a champion to fight in my stead.” I wave a hand and Callan hands me the tome with the chapter bookmarked.
The leather cover is cool and smooth against my palm, the pages within smelling of dust and mold.
“If you look, it’s chapter forty-eight, section seven through ten.
Nowhere in the text does it state a gender in the accords.
” I drop the tome down between me and the elders on the desk.
The solid thud echoes in the silence that follows, the sound seeming to reverberate through my chest. Dust motes rise from the impact, dancing in the shafts of sunlight streaming through the windows.
“I mean, if you need to see what my dragon looks like or go head to head with her, I will be more than happy to oblige.” I glance back at Klauth, feeling the brush of his warmth against my skin, then turn my head back to the elders slowly.
The tendons in my neck creak with tension.
“I do feel the need to warn you. There are eight mates in my nest. Two great wyrm dragons, a black dragon, basilisk, displacer beast, gargoyle, nightmare, and a gryphon all have made my dragoness what she is today.” The pride swells in my chest, warm and fierce, as I list my mates.
“A dragoness gains in power with the mates she takes,” the smaller of the elders says as he backs up slowly, his shoes making soft scuffing sounds against the polished floor. His eyes dart nervously between my mates, widening slightly as he takes in their imposing forms.
“I will challenge your dragoness to test her,” the youngest male elder says with a cocky smirk, his teeth flashing white against the tan of his skin. The challenge in his eyes is clear, burning with an arrogance that makes my blood boil.
“Accepted.” I glance down and then raise my taloned hands, staring at their silver lengths, feeling the weight of them, the deadly sharpness.
The light catches on them, reflecting in gleaming arcs.
“What species of dragon had silver talons?” I flex my hand several times, feeling the muscles and tendons work beneath my skin, before turning and walking out of the room.
The sound of my footsteps is sharp and purposeful against the marble floor.
Thauglor walks out with me and takes my hand in his, his palm dwarfing mine, warm and slightly rough. “They don’t know who they are messing with,” he chuckles as he pulls me against his side. The rumble of his laughter travels through his body into mine, a pleasant vibration.
“This all falls back to the way females have been kept and raised. As much as my father was horrible to me and abused me, I’m not like the others.
I think for myself and want more than to just have babies.
” The words taste bitter on my tongue, memories of my father’s cruelty rising like bile in my throat.
Thauglor listens and nods slowly, his eyes never leaving my face.
“This is true. Then again, I think you inherited some of my bloodthirsty nature from the scale I gifted you.” He kisses my temple, his lips soft against my skin, as we wait outside for the elders and the others to catch up.
The air outside is cooler, carrying the scent of pines and distant water.
“You can shift first so that my much larger drake doesn’t frighten you,” the young male says with a smile as he joins us, his voice grating on my nerves like sandpaper on raw skin.
“I sleep under a red great wyrm’s wing. Do you think your puny dragon will scare me?
Let’s be serious here.” I move and lean against Klauth’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart against my back, then motion to Thauglor.
“I slept in the taloned hand of a black great wyrm on purpose.” Smirking, I motion for him to proceed, the gesture dismissive.
He shifts, and his dragon is copper in color.
I tilt my head, studying him, taking in the relatively small form, the dull sheen of his scales in the afternoon sun.
“For an elder, your drake is small,” I say, my voice carrying across the courtyard.
I study him and roll my eyes, unimpressed.
Looking back, my mates move to back up to the far edge of the courtyard, giving me space.
My dragoness explodes into existence, her emerald, and silver scales catching the afternoon sun like polished gems, refracting light in dazzling patterns across the stone.
The sensation of shifting is like stretching after being confined too long—painful yet satisfying, muscles and bones rearranging with audible cracks and pops.
My scales are jagged, like the iron dragon of my mother’s line, the green close to the body from my father.
Unlike how I looked almost three years ago, my dragoness is heavily armored now, ready for war or to defend her nest. The weight of my form settles into the earth, my talons digging into the stone beneath my feet.
I raise my frill, feeling energy crackle between the spines as I stare down at the smaller copper male.
The sound is like distant thunder, the smell of ozone heavy in the air.
“Mina, you’ve grown again,” Klauth says, his voice filled with pride as he looks up at me.
Even in his human form, his presence is commanding, his voice carrying easily to my heightened senses.
I tilt my horned head to look down at him and nod, the movement sending ripples of sensation along my neck.
‘I know I grew,’ I say to Thauglor and Klauth together, feeling the connection between us pulse with my thoughts.
“Show them your breath weapon, my treasure,” Klauth says as he pats my front leg, his touch warm even through my thick scales.
I turn my head, looking at one of the jagged rocks that annoys me, sitting at the edge of the courtyard.
The stone has been an eyesore for months, dark and misshapen against the otherwise stunning vista.
I build for one of the bigger strikes I can muster, feeling the energy gather in my chest, a ball of heat and power that makes my throat glow.
The hairs on the elders rise from static electricity, the air around us becoming charged and heavy, difficult to breathe.
When I finally unleash my breath weapon, the rock blasts apart into a thousand pieces, the sound deafening, like a clap of thunder directly overhead.
The air fills with dust and stone fragments, the smell of burnt rock and ozone overwhelming my senses.
I lower a wing to protect my mates from the rock shards, feeling several smaller pieces ping harmlessly off my armored scales.
Several rocks strike the copper dragon, making him bleed.
The scent of his blood—copper and salt—reaches me even through the dust cloud.
He shifts back and glares at me, his face contorted with rage and pain, blood trickling from several cuts on his face and arms. “You didn’t protect your elder!” he screams at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking with indignation.
I reach out with my taloned hand and grab him, lifting him off the ground. His body is warm in my grip, his heartbeat frantic against my palm as I stare into his eyes and growl. The vibration of the sound travels through my entire body, a physical manifestation of my anger.
“I suggest you apologize. Mina’s temperament has taken after the black dragons in the nest. If you remember correctly, Thauglor has no problem killing because someone looked at him sideways,” Klauth says calmly, then steps in front of me, getting my attention.
His eyes are steady, a silent communication passing between us.
“My Treasure, will you please drop the imbecile and shift back? I believe we have already proven you are capable of the right of succession.”
I lower the elder to the ground, feeling his weight settle on trembling legs, and shift back.
The sensation is like being compressed, my vast power condensing back into human form, skin replacing scales with a whisper of movement.
“Not all females are defenseless. Go see the priestesses at the temple of Bahamut; they will tell you the extent of my bloodline.” I bare my neck to Klauth, feeling vulnerable yet safe as I expose my throat, and run and dive off the cliff to take flight.
The wind catches me immediately, cold and clean against my skin, washing away the scent of the elders, the dust, the tension.
The sensation of falling gives way to soaring as my wings extend, catching the updrafts.
I need to get away from these assholes before I torch one on purpose.
The temptation to circle back and show them exactly what I’m capable of burns in my chest. But instead, I let the wind carry me higher, into the endless blue where even their prejudice can’t reach me.