Chapter 26 Mina #2
“What makes you think you can do it? It would take an extremely powerful dragon to do it, and you’re just a female.
” By his attitude alone—the haughty tilt of his chin, the disdainful curl of his lip—I know he’s a gold dragon.
His scent is spiced and arrogant, like an expensive perfume that’s been applied too heavily.
Thauglor wraps my daughter up in his wings, the protective gesture making the air around them shimmer with heat, as Klauth steps closer to me and the mom.
He unties the back of my shirt and opens it so that my scales can be seen, the cool air kissing my exposed skin and making me shiver.
He turns me so that my back faces the elders.
“Because of her bloodline, and the proof is in the amount of scales she bears in human form. You all received our family trees as proof of who and what we are. My mate is the dominant dragoness in our part of the continent.” He reties my shirt, then kisses my cheek, his lips lingering there, warm and reassuring. “Show them.”
When Klauth steps away, I look at the mom, her eyes wide and hopeful, glistening with unshed tears. “It’s going to hurt, but it will work. I freed all the hatchlings of my flight and my mother-in-law’s flight.” The mom nods and backs away, her scent a mixture of fear and desperate hope.
The tone starts low, deep in my chest, felt more than heard, a vibration that makes the surrounding air dense and charged.
Wide-eyed, the baby stares up at me as I shift my eyes to my dragon’s; the color changing from human to reptilian, vertical pupils focusing on the small form in my arms. It thrashes slightly, its limbs stiffening, then relaxing as I feel the hatchling waking up within it.
My song becomes louder, and I hear other babies responding to it, their cries a counterpoint to my deeper tones.
Carefully, I move and sit on the ground.
The earth is cool and solid beneath me, cradling the baby, still singing.
By the apex of the song, heat radiates from the child in waves, and he shifts into a beautiful purple and white hatchling.
He looks up to me with wide eyes, their color a deep amethyst, and tilts his head curiously, his scales catching the light in iridescent flashes.
Gently, I sit him on the ground. He takes his first few steps as a hatchling, using his wings and tail for balance, his claws leaving tiny indentations in the soft earth.
“We suspect the mages made the oil and took an ancient tradition and twisted it to fit their agenda.” My eyes find the mother, who now has her hatchling with her, her face wet with tears of joy, her scent now sweet with relief and gratitude.
Murmurs move through the crowd as other hatchlings come to find me, their movements creating a wave of color and sound that flows toward me like a living stream.
Being the dominant dragoness, they are seeking safety, and that means finding the strongest dragoness—me.
I welcome all the hatchlings and nuzzle each one, learning their scents—each unique, some sweet, some earthy, some with hints of spice or flowers—before looking back at the elders.
“We as a people have a mage problem. They steal our youth, they kill our elders, and make our babies defenseless. The rewriting of the accords was probably done by them, too.” I say as I stand up, my voice steady and clear, carrying across the now-silent clearing.
“I don’t know about you.” I look at my mates before locking eyes with the elders, my gaze unwavering and fierce.
“I will not allow any hatchlings, females, or elders to be harmed as long as I draw breath.” All the hatchlings lay at my feet as I stare at the gathered masses, their small bodies a carpet of scales and wings, a physical manifestation of the future I’m fighting to protect.
Whispers move like wildfire through the crowd as I stand alone with the hatchlings, the sound like rustling leaves before a storm.
Klauth and Thauglor are in talks with several elders, their deep voices a background rumble that I can feel more than hear.
Abraxis holds our daughter to his chest as she sleeps with her head on his shoulder, her small form rising and falling with each breath.
Her scent—a sweeter version of my own—carried to me on the gentle breeze.
“I would like to petition to join the Risedale nest,” a young male steps forward, his scales gleaming with youth and health, his posture one of determination and hope.
Four more follow behind him. They all appear to be in their mid to late twenties, their scents mingling—eagerness, fear, determination, and something else, something that speaks of ambition and hunger.
“We do not call my nest Risedale anymore. The training of Shadowblades died with my father. We call our nest Sovereign since it is where Klauth and I rule from.” I hold my head high as I look at the five young males, feeling the weight of the diadem on my brow, a physical reminder of my status.
“Run the gauntlet that I have beaten three times. If you live, you may join.”
A laugh escapes my lips as I look at the males, the sound hollow even to my own ears.
“My father, Abaddon Bladesong, bred me to be a weapon, trained and honed by his hand. I am the last of his Shadowblades, and that tradition dies with me.” I lock eyes with Abraxis, and he nods, his gaze soft with understanding.
Deep down, he knows killing my father did more damage than I let on.
The memory of it sits heavy in my chest, a weight that makes it hard to breathe sometimes.
On one hand, I am finally free of the nightmares that plagued me, the shadows that haunted my sleep dissolving like morning mist. On the other, his legacy lives on in me, in the way my body moves, in the instincts that keep me alive.
The lightning that courses through my veins is because of my resurrection.
I can feel it even now, a constant presence just beneath my skin, ready to be called forth at a moment’s notice—both gift and curse from the man who made me what I am.