Chapter 34
Mina
I have thirty-five females in the training area, their bodies casting long shadows across the sun-baked earth.
The air is thick with the scent of sweat and apprehension, punctuated by the rhythmic thud of feet against packed dirt.
We are starting them with bamboo swords for training after the exercise portion, the pale wood stacked neatly in racks along the wall, gleaming dully in the sunlight.
Any female that had a mage cage on them I personally burned off, watching the molten metal hit the ground with a satisfying hiss and splatter, the acrid scent of burned iron mingling with the sweeter smell of relief from those newly freed.
Some males were prepared to protest what I had done, their eyes flashing with indignation, throats rumbling with barely contained growls.
Until Thauglor and Klauth stood behind me, the temperature around us dropping several degrees from Thauglor’s presence while the ground beneath Klauth’s feet heated enough to make the dirt smoke.
I know I could handle these males myself, but it’s nice to know I have the support of my mates, their combined presence a wall of strength at my back.
I have the females running laps around the training circle to warm up their muscles. Their labored breathing and occasional grunts of effort fill the otherwise quiet space, creating a symphony of exertion that echoes off the stone walls.
“It looks like some of them have never exercised a day in their lives,” Abraxis says as he watches the females run their laps, his voice low and rumbling against my ear, warm breath stirring the fine hairs at my temple.
“I doubt any of them ever even lifted a weapon of any kind. They’re lucky in that sense.” My tone is slightly bitter as memories flash before my eyes of what I had endured, the phantom ache of overworked muscles and the ghost of old bruises making me tense.
“You’re not him,” Abraxis says before kissing my temple, his lips soft against my skin, leaving behind a trace of warmth that banishes some of the chill from my memories.
“I know, but I am his progeny.” I watch as the females stop running and take cups of water from Vaughn as they move to stretch, the sound of water being gulped down greedily punctuating the space between heartbeats.
The scent of clean sweat rises from their skin as they move, bodies bending and reaching in ways that show both flexibility and limitation.
“History won’t repeat itself. You are giving these females the tools to protect themselves and their nests,” Abraxis says before kissing my temple again, his voice a balm on my frayed nerves.
When they finish with their stretches, Vaughn has them take turns striking the practice dummy.
The hollow thwack of bamboo against straw-filled canvas creates a percussive rhythm that cannot disguise their lack of power.
I watch every move and occasionally step in and correct their stance.
My hands are gentle but firm as I reposition arms and shoulders, feeling the trembling exhaustion already setting into their untrained muscles.
As I make the corrections, I realize they have no upper body strength, their arms quivering with fatigue after just a few strikes.
Running my hand down my face, I feel the rough scales that erupt along my jaw when I’m stressed, a tactile reminder of the beast within.
I step away to watch them try to strike the dummies, their efforts becoming more labored, bamboo whistling ineffectually through the air.
“What seems to be wrong, my treasure?” Klauth asks as he steps away from Abraxis, his approach so silent I only sense him by the hot air that always surrounds him, like stepping into sunlight on a hot day.
I huff and step forward, pressing my forehead against his chest and pulling my arms up between us.
His heartbeat is steady against my skin, an ancient rhythm that has continued uninterrupted for millennia.
Klauth wraps his arms around me and holds me tight to his chest, his arms like bands of steel, secure and grounding.
“I have to start with strength building, then add skill. They have no muscle strength.” Telling him my problem lifts a little of the stress that was building in my chest, the knot of tension loosening slightly.
“So you take a little at a time; you will get them there, eventually.” He kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering against my hair, breathing in my scent just as I breathe in his—ancient brimstone.
He gives me another squeeze before letting me go and smacking my ass, the sound sharp in the quiet space between us.
I laugh a little and turn to smile at him, the tension in my shoulders easing further.
“Go be the King I know you are.” I blow him a kiss before returning to the females.
Slowly I draw in a deep breath, tasting the dust and sweat in the air, and look them over as they strike at the dummies, their movements growing more uncoordinated as fatigue sets in.
“Let’s work on muscle strength. Vaughn will show you how to do a push-up. I want you to do as many as you can and let Abraxis know your name and the count.” I glance at the females as they all focus on Vaughn, their eyes tracking his movements with varying degrees of apprehension and determination.
“Is everything okay?” Abraxis approaches, the cool of his body a stark contrast to Klauth’s warm embrace, and we watch Vaughn demonstrate what to do, his muscles flexing smoothly under his skin, making the movement look effortless.
“No, but it will be.” I kiss his lips softly, tasting the faint sweetness of the tea he drank earlier, and walk back towards the lower nest. Thauglor has an office in the lower chambers next to my garden, and I need an ear to listen that understands what I endured.
Training the females has stirred up terrible memories, the tastes and smells of my childhood rising unbidden—blood and tears, the metallic tang of fear.
Thauglor has seen the memories using his gift.
He’s the one that will understand what I can’t bring myself to say.
I weave my way through the lower nest site; the temperature dropping noticeably as I descend, the air taking on the earthy scent of stone and roots.
The sound of my boots against the floor changes from the hollow echo of the upper chambers to a more solid thud as I reach the deeper levels.
Eventually I come to his office. He has two of the males we appointed as officers standing by his desk reviewing orders, their voices low and serious, the rustle of paper punctuating their discussion.
Silently, I step in and take a seat on the leather chair in the corner behind them, the material cool and smooth against my skin, creaking softly as it takes my weight.
They finish their discussion and, as they turn to leave, they jump, frightened by my presence, their wings flaring slightly in surprise.
“We didn’t hear you enter, my queen,” Troy says as he and Xade bow to me, the movement making their armor clink softly.
“Shadowblade, remember. If you let your dragon surface a little more, you would have felt the disturbance in the air when I entered.” I arch a brow and dip my head to them before they take their leave, their boots heavy against the stone floor as they exit.
Thauglor stands and closes his office door, the heavy wood meeting the frame with a solid thunk.
He locks it, the mechanism clicking into place, before coming to kneel before me.
The rustle of his clothing and the soft creak of leather are the only sounds in the silent room.
“I feel the turmoil under the surface. A memory surfaced?” He tilts his head as he presses my knees apart and slips between them, the warmth of his body a welcome contrast to the coolness of the underground chamber.
His forearms rest beside my thighs as he looks up at me, his sapphire eyes reflecting the low lamplight, turning them into pools of liquid blue.
“You can say that.” I close my eyes and lean forward to press my forehead against his, breathing in his scent of smoke and cedar.
The tingle starts at the base of my skull, a gentle electric current that spreads outward, as he raises a hand to caress the back of my neck, holding my forehead to his.
The memory plays the raw truth of it. The grueling hours of strength training instead of playing when I was little.
The taste of salt as tears mixed with sweat, and the sting of wounds reopening with each movement.
Then what happened today. The females of my flight have little to no strength and the fear that caused me.
It was the jealousy that surfaced that frightened me more.
Jealous of the fact they were safe enough to be children when they were children.
Their bodies unmarked by training, their eyes clear of the shadows that have always lived in mine.
Thauglor pushes further through my memories to the ones I haven’t dealt with yet.
Where I wrenched my father’s smaller dragon into the sky and tore his very body asunder with my breath weapon.
The hot spray of his blood across my scales, the sickening crunch of bones between my teeth.
The numbness that still rests in my chest over it has kept me distant, a cold void where emotion should be.
I don’t know how I feel about what I did.
My children are safe, my mates are safe, and my flight is safe. At least for now, and from him. When Thauglor releases me, he smiles softly and kisses my lips with a tenderness I don’t feel I deserve, his mouth gentle against mine, tasting of smoke and something uniquely him.