Chapter 24 Raven #2
He flares his wings in return and clacks his jaw back at me—acceptance.
“That’s an ancient challenge. How does my mate know that?” I hear Solaris ask from the sidelines, his voice carrying surprise and interest.
Corvus explains our training from the time we could stand and hold a sword, his voice proud.
Dad doesn’t give me a second to think before he charges—one sword high, the other low, coming at me with the speed and precision of a Great Wyrm. I parry the strikes and send a wing spike at his thigh in counterattack. His wing comes down, deflecting the blow.
Clash, clash, wing. We strike and block, going blow for blow for over ten minutes. The familiar rhythm of combat settles my nerves, and I’m having the time of my life sparring with my dad like we used to when I was young.
“Raven, stop toying with your father and end it,” Klauth’s voice booms across the courtyard.
I move faster than Dad expects, catching him off balance with a feint he falls for. I take him to the ground hard, both swords piercing through his leathers and pinning his arms out to the sides. My talons are positioned inches from his throat with a snarl.
My vision suddenly swims sickeningly. Dad’s face flickers between father and target, and instinct screams at me to finish the kill. I launch myself backward using my wings, putting distance between us immediately.
“Get him up...” I cover my face with trembling hands and close my eyes, trying to breathe through the sudden rage flooding my system.
“What’s wrong, my love?” Solaris is there instantly, kneeling in front of me and pulling me against his solid warmth.
“Her dragoness sometimes forgets who’s family and starts making people look like targets,” I hear Corvus explain quietly. “It’s worse when she’s stressed or the bond is incomplete.”
“She’s young, and we’re half-bonded,” Solaris says, his voice soothing as he pulls me onto his lap. “When the bond is fully in place, my drake should steady her dragoness.” He presses my face to his throat and just holds me tight, his heartbeat steady against my ear.
“Are you okay, sir?” I hear Corvus ask with concern.
“Yeah, is Raven okay?” Thauglor asks, and I feel guilt crash over me. How can he be asking about me when I almost killed him?
“Physically, aye. She’s upset that she almost killed ye,” Solaris says, pressing me harder against his chest protectively.
“Raven, I’m sorry I was in a foul mood,” Thauglor says, and his voice breaks with emotion. “Mina can only sense one hatchling in the egg you said had twins. I was upset—we lost a hatchling.”
The pain in his voice makes my chest ache.
“One is stronger than the other,” I say, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “I could barely feel the second one myself when I checked. I’m sure it’s fine, probably just hidden by its sibling.” I pause, then decide. “Can I go run the gauntlet now? I don’t think it’s safe for me to spar today.”
Dad nods understanding, and Corvus helps Solaris and me stand.
“I’m running with you,” Corvus announces firmly, not giving me the opportunity to argue.
We move across the courtyard to where they’ve set up the gauntlet. I stare at the looming structure, and my stomach clenches with remembered terror. The last time I was in there, I was teleported into our enemies’ hands—drugged, imprisoned, nearly killed.
“You don’t have to run if you don’t want to,” Corvus says gently, moving to stand before me. His eyes search mine, looking for any hesitation. In this light, the silver seems more pronounced than before, almost glowing.
I look over his shoulder at the gauntlet, really seeing it. Staring at the dark entrance, I realize something fundamental has shifted inside me. I really don’t feel the need to run it anymore.
Looking to my right, I see Solaris standing with all three of my dads in deep conversation, their heads bent together. I look back at the structure one more time, and then I simply turn and walk away from it.
To be honest, I don’t even know why I felt I needed to do it in the first place. Maybe because of my mother’s legacy as a six-time champion? Maybe because all three of my fathers are legends in their own right, and I felt I had to measure up?
I use my talons and scale the side of the Shadowcarve building instead, climbing the rough stone. I could have flown up here easily, but the burn in my muscles from climbing feels so much better—real, grounding, honest.
I sit on the roof and just breathe.
Next year is the Purge—a brutal culling of students. This year we’re borderline at war with the Western Continent for drugging Corvus and me. Who knows what Amadeus actually had planned for us? Ransom? Political leverage? Forced marriage?
The sound of claws sinking into wood catches my attention, and I look down over the edge.
Orpheus is climbing his way up to me, moving with the same practiced ease I just did.
My brother. My favorite person in the entire universe.
He climbs up and sits next to me without a word.
I wrap a wing around his back, and we loop our arms together in the way we’ve done since we were hatchlings.
He knows better than anyone the pressure that’s constantly on me. He won’t judge.
“What happened?” Orpheus asks softly after a long moment of comfortable silence.
“Flashbacks of what happened before being portaled into that dungeon,” I admit, and I feel like a great weight has been lifted off my chest just saying it out loud.
“You’re unmatched in the ring. The gauntlet seems like a waste of time for you,” he observes with a half-chuckle.
“I will defend this continent without question,” I say firmly.
On a hard exhale, I motion to all of Shadowcarve spread out below us.
“But all of this seems like a waste of time for us.” I turn and look into my brother’s golden eyes—so like mine in shape if not color.
“Mom and all the dads trained us harder than over ninety percent of the students here. Most of this curriculum is a joke for us.”
Orpheus nods slowly, understanding dawning. He looks down at the dads and my mates watching us from the courtyard. “So, what do you want to do?”
“That’s a good question,” I say, feeling something crystallize in my mind. “What do I want to do?”
I turn and hug my brother tightly, pressing my face against his shoulder. “Thank you.” I kiss his cheek with genuine gratitude.
“For what?” He pokes my side to annoy me like we’re kids again.
“Actually asking what I want,” I say, pulling back to look at him.
“It’s always been what’s expected of me.
Follow in Mom’s footsteps. Be as strong as our Wyrm fathers.
Run the gauntlets. Prove myself over and over.
” I bite my bottom lip as a thought forms clearly in my mind—a path I haven’t considered before.
“Oh goddess, I know that look...” Orpheus says with a waver in his voice that’s half-excitement, half-terror.
I stand and offer my brother a hand up. The minute he’s standing, I move to stand behind him, wrapping my arms around him and leap off the roof without warning. I spread my wings wide, and we glide down to the ground together, landing with bent knees.
When our feet hit the ground, I look at my father Thauglor, and I know that once I show him what I’m thinking, he’ll tell Klauth. Reaching out, I take Thauglor’s large hand and rest it against my cheek, staring into his sapphire eyes—mirrors of my own.
I can feel the exact moment his Wyrm gift probes my thoughts for what I want to show him. His eyebrows raise slowly as he sees the path I’m considering—unexpected, unconventional, but one that would serve the continent best in the years to come.
I step back from my father and offer him a small smile before backing away. I leap into the air, my wings catching the morning thermals. My dragoness explodes into existence once I’m high enough, and I climb toward the clouds.
I need to go talk to Mom.
And I need to figure out who I want to be—not who everyone expects me to be.