Chapter 53 #2
When the last baby shifts, I let the last notes echo in the field like dying thunder before sitting back, letting my body shift all the way back to human, exhaustion washing over me like a tide.
Thauglor releases my children, and I sit on the ground and spread my arms wide, offering sanctuary and love.
A different song escapes my lips, softer now—a song of welcome and safety to all of the little ones.
I offer them my protection and safety in my presence, each note carrying love and acceptance.
All the hatchlings from my flight join us in the field, surrounding me like a living constellation, and my children press themselves against me, seeking comfort and closeness.
Balor’s son coils around me, his serpentine form warm and reassuring, his head resting on my shoulder like a living scarf.
My displacer children sit on each side of me like sentinels, their eyes watching for any threat.
The newly turned hatchlings amble closer and lay at my feet, instinct telling them they are safe in my presence.
“And therefore my mate is the dominant dragoness in our part of the continent,” Klauth says loudly, his voice carrying across the field with pride that makes my heart swell with love and belonging.
The declaration echoes off of the surrounding hills, a statement of fact that no one present can deny.
It’s been several hours since I broke the hold of the anointing oil on the hatchlings, and they are playing in the field, their joyful squeals and roars filling the mountain air with sounds of freedom and discovery.
The late afternoon sun warms my skin as I watch them explore their newfound abilities, wings flapping experimentally and tiny claws leaving marks in the soft earth.
Thauglor comes to sit with me, his movement causing the wooden bench to creak softly under his weight, and pulls me onto his lap, his arms encircling me like protective bands of warm steel.
“Penny for your thoughts, mate?” His voice rumbles against my back, the sound vibrating through my ribs and settling into my bones with familiar comfort.
Sighing, I watch the little ones running around, their laughter like silver bells dancing on the mountain breeze, until I spot his progeny with an older male hatchling.
The scent of fresh blood and earth reaches my nostrils as I notice he’s killed a rabbit and dropped it in front of her, the offering pristine and carefully placed.
“Who’s child is that?” I motion to the young male near our daughter, noting the way he stands protectively beside her, his small chest puffed out with pride.
Thauglor tilts his head, looking at the male with the intense focus of a father assessing a potential threat.
“That is the son of one of Klauth’s generals.
Until three months ago, they were looking for a betrothal for him.
” He goes deadly still behind me, his muscles tensing like coiled springs. “Do you think?”
I laugh a little and smile; the sound bubbling up from my chest like warm honey. “I think so. I believe that is our daughter’s mate.” The words taste both sweet and bitter on my tongue—joy for my daughter’s future, sorrow for her inevitable departure from our nest.
“My little Raven... He can’t have her, I just got her!” He pouts, and it’s so adorable that my heart melts like chocolate in the sun. The mighty ancient dragon reduced to a possessive father—the sight makes my chest tight with affection.
Slowly, I turn in his lap and smile, looking up at him, the afternoon light catching the sapphire depths of his eyes and making them sparkle like jewels.
My hands gently cup his cheeks, feeling the slight roughness of stubble beneath my palms and the warmth of his skin that always runs hot with dragon fire.
“Our daughter has a mate.” I kiss his lips, tasting the unique flavor that is purely him, and suck on his bottom lip for a moment, savoring the soft flesh.
“At what age will she know what he is to her?” I keep his eyes focused on me, using our connection to ground him in this moment rather than his panic.
“Her twenty-first birthday. It’s when a young dragoness is considered mature enough to lay eggs.
Her dragoness won’t allow her to know who her mate is before then.
” He sighs, the sound carrying resignation and loss, and his bottom lip sticks out in an expression so endearingly childlike it makes me want to kiss him senseless.
“We need to build a tower at the top of the mountain and lock her in it.”
I almost choke on my spit, the absurdity of his statement hitting me like a physical blow.
“You were reading those story books the mages had about knights rescuing a damsel from a tower from a dragon. So you’re going to lock your daughter—who’s a dragon—in a tower away from her mate?
” Shaking my head, I roll my eyes, the gesture exaggerated enough to make my point clear.
“What would you have done if someone tried keeping me from you?”
“Melted the countryside...” he states, like it’s the most obvious solution. His tone is matter-of-fact in a way that makes my skin prickle with the memory of his protective fury.
“Exactly. Let’s go meet his parents.” I stand up with his help, feeling the strength in his hands as he supports my weight, and wait for him to join me, the grass soft beneath my feet and still warm from the day’s sunshine.
Lucky for us, Klauth is already in talks with what looks like his parents, their conversation animated with gestures and the occasional glance toward the children playing nearby.
“Mina, Thauglor, I want you to meet my general Jorah and his mate, Orin.” His voice carries the formal tones of introduction, but I can see the amusement dancing in his amber eyes.
They bow to me, and I smile softly when they look up, noting the way their eyes widen slightly as they take in my appearance—the crown, the power that radiates from my skin like heat from a forge.
“The pleasure is all mine.” Raven and the little male dragon she’s been playing with come up to us, their small feet making soft pattering sounds on the grass.
“Who’s your friend, Raven?” I nuzzle my daughter as I pick her up, her small body warm and solid in my arms, smelling of sunshine and that unique baby dragon scent that makes my maternal instincts purr with contentment.
She rumbles softly, the vibration tickling against my chest as she tells me his name is Corvis and these are his parents—he wanted her to meet them.
“Oh, that’s very interesting, sweetheart,” Thauglor says before kissing our daughter on the cheek, his lips gentle against her tiny scales.
Ziggy arrives with a blanket, the fabric soft and warm in his hands, to wrap Raven up with.
As soon as the blanket is on her, she shifts to be a human baby again, her small form nestling into the warmth with a contented sigh.
While we were busy with Raven, the little boy shifted and has pulled on pants, his movements quick and efficient despite his youth.
“Momma, this is Raven, and she’s mine.” He tugs on his mother’s arm with the determined persistence of a child who knows exactly what he wants, and both of his parents go pale, the color draining from their faces as they look from their son to us with growing horror and understanding.
“My Queen, I’m sure my son is wrong,” Jorah stammers, looking panicked, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool mountain air.
Laughing, I shake my head, the sound carrying across the field like music.
“He’s not joking. He hunted for my daughter and has stuck by her side all afternoon.
She’s his mate.” Purring softly, I kiss my daughter’s plump baby cheeks, her skin soft as rose petals and warm with health.
“Raven said your name is Corvis. Do you know your name means raven?” I smile at the little boy, noting the way his eyes light up with wonder and the serious way he considers this information.
His mouth makes a perfect O as he looks up at me, his expression one of pure amazement.
“I’m gonna get big and strong and be a general like my daddy for the king one day.
” His voice carries the absolute certainty of childhood dreams, and something in his tone reminds me of myself at that age—determined, fierce, ready to take on the world.
I look over at Thauglor and smile; the decision crystallizing in my mind like ice forming on still water.
“I accept the position at Shadowcarve to teach warfare and weaponry. I have a reason to be there now.” I stare down at Corvis, seeing not just a little boy but the future protector of my daughter, then look at his father with the intensity of a predator sizing up potential prey.
“Once a week, I want you to bring your son to me. I’m going to teach him to be a shadowblade like me. ”
I hug my daughter tighter, feeling her small heartbeat against my chest, knowing that the path I am choosing goes against every promise I made myself when I left that life behind.
The weight of my decision settles on my shoulders like a familiar cloak, heavy with responsibility and sacrifice.
For Raven’s future, and the future of my progeny, the shadowblade way will not die with me.
The next generation will have a different purpose—protection of my bloodline rather than serving distant masters who care nothing for their lives.
To be continued in Dragonis Academy Gen 2 — Raven’s Song
Want to see what happens when Ziggy is put in charge of a VERY important mission?
Read the gap novella that happens after Queen of the Cursed Egg and before Raven’s Song. Dragonis Academy Solstice