Chapter 30 Mina
Mina
The first male steps into the ring, his boots kicking up small puffs of dust that dance in the morning sunlight like miniature golden spirits.
I size him up, my gaze traveling over his form, noting every detail with predatory precision.
He’s not as thickly muscled as Thauglor, whose body ripples with power beneath his skin like liquid metal.
Size-wise, he’s close to Balor in height and breadth, just not as defined, his muscles less pronounced under his training leathers that creak softly with each movement.
Balor approaches with ribbons in his calloused hands, the crimson silken strips fluttering in the breeze as he attaches them to our hips.
The fabric whispers against my skin, cool and light as a lover’s breath.
We bow to each other, the scent of male sweat and worn leather filling my nostrils, mingling with the earthy aroma of the training yard and the faint metallic tang of weapons as we wait for Balor to call for the match to begin.
“Fight!” he yells, his voice cracking like thunder across the training yard, reverberating off the stone walls surrounding us.
I drop into my fighting stance, feeling the earth solid beneath my feet, my weight balanced perfectly as though I’ve become one with the ground itself. The leather grip of my blades warms to my touch, familiar and comforting in my palms, the weight an extension of my arms.
The male charges, one blade held high, gleaming like liquid silver in the sunlight, the other sweeping low with a whistle through the air that raises goosebumps on my skin.
I move, bending like a reed in the wind, the rush of displaced air caressing my cheek like phantom fingers as I avoid his strikes.
Instead, I kick him in the gut after blocking both of his blades; the impact sending a satisfying shock up my leg and vibrating through my hip bone.
He staggers back, his breath leaving him in an audible whoosh that carries the scent of cinnamon and cloves, and I reset, dropping back into my stance, the taste of anticipation metallic and sweet on my tongue.
My eyes shift to those of my dragon, the transformation sending a pleasurable burn across my irises. The world suddenly sharpens, colors becoming so vibrant they almost hurt to look at, every movement crisper as though time has slowed just for me.
I focus on every single twitch of his muscles, watching the beads of sweat roll down his temple, catching the light like tiny diamonds.
His shoulders telegraph his next move, the slight tensing giving him away like a whispered secret, and I anticipate it, blocking the strikes with ease, the clash of metal sending vibrations up my arms that make my teeth hum.
He’s a much stronger adversary than I’ve faced in a while, his blades dancing with practiced precision, singing through the air, and a smile crosses my lips as I move to strike.
The adrenaline courses through my veins like liquid fire, making everything around me seem more alive.
He sees me move and adjusts where he’s blocking, his eyes narrowing in concentration, deep amber flecked with gold.
Unfortunately for him, I changed my mind at the last second.
With an upward flick of my wrist, I sever the first ribbon from his hip closest to me; the silk giving way with barely any resistance, the torn end floating momentarily in the air before being caught by the breeze.
I reset again, the taste of exertion salty in my mouth, my lungs burning pleasantly with each deep breath, waiting for him to realize what had just happened.
Then I see it—he’s smirking, teeth flashing white against his tanned skin, the scent of his pride reaching me like a spicy challenge. Glancing down, I see he removed my ribbon as well, the torn end of silk fluttering to the ground like a wounded butterfly, a splash of crimson against the pale dust.
Seeing he removed a ribbon from me gives me a strange sense of pride, warmth blooming in my chest and spreading outward to my fingertips.
My bloodline, the iron dragons, seem to be stronger and faster than the other species so far, the knowledge humming in my bones like an ancient song.
We rain blows down on each other, the clanging of metal ringing across the courtyard like discordant music, sending each other back several times before I take the last ribbon from him, the silk coming away with a satisfying tear that feels like victory itself.
I sheath my blades; the metal sliding home with a soft hiss like a contented sigh, and close the distance, extending my hand to him.
His palm is rough against mine, hot and slick with sweat as we clasp hands, his pulse hammering against my fingers.
“You are an outstanding fighter. Did you know my mother? Layla Laraunt?” I ask him and tilt my head, watching his eyes widen, pupils dilating with shock, the silver irises almost disappearing.
“Your mother was Layla? She is our aunt. We didn’t know what happened to her.
” He laughs a little to himself, the sound rich with disbelief vibrating in the air between us.
“I’m Njall, and that’s my brother Ty.” We bend our heads and let the tips of our horns touch in greeting, the gentle click and the familiar pressure a comforting ritual of the iron dragons.
The contact sends a tingle of connection down my spine like an electric current.
There’s a deep recognition of blood and kin that makes my skin prickle with goosebumps.
Ty joins us, his boots scuffing the dirt as he approaches, the sound rhythmic and grounding, and smiles.
“Who knew we’d find our cousin is the Queen of the continent?
Or that we had a cousin.” He’s playful, the way his eyes crinkle in the corners, his smile full of joy and it reaches his eyes, warming them to a molten silver that reminds me of sunlight on a blade.
We bend our heads and allow our horns to touch, the resonance of family blood humming between us like a forgotten melody suddenly remembered.
My heart is so full of joy at the moment it feels like it might burst from my chest, each beat sending waves of warmth through my body.
I have family left outside of the family I created for myself; the realization making my throat tight with emotion.
“Guys, come meet my cousins,” I call, my voice carrying across the training yard as I motion to my mates to join us.
The air stirs with their approach, bringing their familiar scents—Thauglor’s mountain stone and smoke like a forest fire, Balor’s leather and steel with undertones of pine.
I immediately make introductions, watching as they size each other up with curious eyes, the tension in the air palpable like the moment before a storm breaks.
Both of my cousins are over a hundred years old and are concerned about what they’ve been hearing about the older dragons being hunted and killed, their voices dropping lower, edged with worry that makes the hair on my arms stand up.
“The mages killed off all the iron females. Your mom being stolen by your dad was the only thing that saved her,” Ty says as he rubs the back of his neck, his calloused fingers rasping against the stubble there, the sound like sandpaper on wood.
“Why would they kill off the iron dragon females?” Balor asks as he takes me in his arms, his embrace solid and protective, his heartbeat a steady drumming against my back that anchors me as the world seems to tilt.
“They were worried about several of the cursed eggs being released by the female of their greatest enemy,” Njall says, his voice carrying an edge of old fear that makes my stomach clench. “You’re a green and iron hybrid. The combination of most of dragon kind’s greatest enemies.”
“Klauth and I hatched for you,” Thauglor says as he flares his wings, the membranous structures snapping open with a sound like sails catching wind, casting a shadow over us all, the temperature dropping several degrees in their shade.
“Wait! You’re the Thauglor Mrithun,” Njall says as he takes a step back, boots scraping on the packed earth, his eyes widening in recognition, the scent of his awe and fear mingling in the air.
“That I am,” Thauglor replies, flaring his wings again, standing a little taller, his presence seeming to fill the air around us, pushing against the skin like a physical force, the very atmosphere becoming heavier with his power.
“I guess the mages didn’t succeed,” Ty says as he looks between the four of us, his gaze lingering on our joined hands, the intertwining of fingers and fates. “They’ve been trying to keep the eggs from hatching for years.”
“How do you know this?” I ask my cousin, reaching out and taking hold of his biceps, feeling the muscle tense under my fingers like steel cable as I look into his eyes, searching for truth in their silvery depths that reflect my face back to me.
“We were little when they came through the first time trying to kill off all the iron females,” Njall says as he looks at his brother, his voice dropping to a near whisper that forces us all to lean in, our breath mingling in the small space between us.
“We were given several eggs that were going to be female and told to go hide in one of the azure caves. Your mom’s egg was one of them.
We climbed in as far as we could and found a small cavern to hide in. ”
“We hid for hours with the eggs, the darkness was nearly complete except for the faint bioluminescent moss that painted everything in ghostly blue light,” Ty adds, his eyes distant with memory, his voice taking on a hollow quality that echoes with past terror.
“It wasn’t until our dad called for us that we brought the eggs back out.
He was wounded but for the most part was alright.
Mom didn’t make it.” Ty looks back at Njall, grief briefly shadowing his features before he masters it, the muscle in his jaw jumping with tension.
“Dad told us he heard the mages hunting for the females to kill them off,” Njall says as he looks down and away, his shoulders hunching slightly, the scent of old sorrow clinging to him like a shroud.
The rage builds in my chest as I think about what my cousins are telling me, a heat that begins in my core and spreads outward, making my skin feel too tight, my blood beginning to boil in my veins.
“So my daughter and I are the last females with iron dragon blood in us.” The scales along the back of my neck rise and shift, making a rasping noise like dry leaves being crushed, betraying my agitation, the sensation both painful and satisfying.
“Until either of us have kids. Yes, sadly,” Ty says, his voice gentle but firm, a contrast to the harshness of his words that cut through me like shards of ice.
Ziggy manifests with Klauth and Lily in tow, the air shimmering around them like heat waves rising from sun-baked stone, bringing the scent of brimstone and hatchling.
I glance over at Thauglor and I know from the subtle shift in his stance that he caught Klauth up on everything, the silent communication between them almost tangible.
“This is Klauth. My love, these are my cousins Ty and Njall. I’m going to move them into the lower compound.
” My heart thunders in my chest, the sound rushing in my ears like a waterfall as I fight to contain the storm brewing inside me, my breath coming a little faster, each inhale burning my lungs.
‘The mages will pay for what they’ve done,’ Klauth says in my mind, his mental voice cold with fury, like ice cracking, before shaking hands with my cousins.
“You are welcome within our flight. It’s nice that Mina has family left.
” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, which remain hard as flint, reflecting no light.
He’s feeling the weight of the millennium he slept on his shoulders.
I can tell from the slight droop in his normally perfect posture.
I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tightly, pressing my cheek against his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily beneath my ear, the rhythm calming my rage temporarily.
“Let’s bring everyone inside,” I offer, looking at my cousins.
The scent of approaching rain carried on a freshening breeze that tastes of electricity.
My eyes drift to the other males standing at attention around the training yard, muscles taut and ready, the metallic scent of their anticipation thick in the air.
“We’ll continue later. See if the gardens or any other chores need to be done.
” I look at the males from my flight and they nod, bodies tensing in acknowledgment, the soft sound of leather shifting and weapons being adjusted filling the sudden silence.
They know what’s expected and I’m sure they will keep the new arrivals in line, their eyes already assessing the newcomers with the scrutiny of established warriors, the tension between them crackling like static in the air.