Chapter 36 #2
“That’s been a long time coming.” Thauglor’s voice comes from behind me, and I turn to see Raven’s birth father approaching the group.
His sapphire eyes are soft as he watches the embrace, his expression one of quiet pride.
“I’m proud of both of them.” He looks over at Ziggy holding Nova and smiles, reaching out to stroke one finger down the baby’s cheek.
“She’s perfect, T,” Ziggy says, using the nickname I’ve heard the older generation employ. “Reminds me so much of Raven when she was a baby.”
Ziggy passes Nova to Thauglor, and I watch my mate’s father accept his granddaughter with the same reverence he shows his daughter. The parallels are striking—the same dark hair, the same fierce spirit already visible in those mismatched eyes.
“In all of my years of life before I was captured, I dinnae remember a wyrm dragoness being as close tae her family as Raven is with you.” I rest my hand on Thauglor’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of ancient kinship.
We share something, he and I—centuries of existence, the weight of long memory, the hard-won wisdom of survival.
“Neither do I,” Thauglor’s voice is thoughtful as he gazes down at Nova. “It’s a gentler time than when we were younger and free the first time.”
“Aye, that’s true.” I ponder the implications for several moments as we watch Abraxis open his wings, freeing Raven from the embrace.
She does the same, stepping back with a smile that transforms her face.
“If it was back when we were free the first time, Raven would nae have hesitated tae kill her mother tae take the rank from her.”
The words are not criticism—merely observations.
The old ways were brutal. Daughters challenged mothers.
Sons killed fathers. Power was seized through violence, maintained through fear.
The fact that Raven loves her family, protects them, fights for them rather than against them—it’s a mark of how much the world has changed.
Or perhaps a mark of how special she truly is.
Raven bounces up and kisses Abraxis’s cheek, the gesture light and affectionate, then turns and snuggles up to Thauglor. She tucks herself under his arm with the ease of long practice, pressing her face against his chest.
“Hi, Daddy.” She laughs a little and shakes her head, her black wings rustling against her back. “I kind of feel silly saying that now that I’m a mum.”
“It does my old heart good to hear you say it.” Thauglor bends down and kisses Raven’s temple, his sapphire eyes closing briefly with contentment.
I watch the exchange with a warmth blooming in my chest. This is what I want for my daughter. This closeness. This love. This family that stands together against the darkness rather than tearing each other apart.
“What brings everyone here?” Raven asks, her sapphire gaze sweeping across the gathered group with sudden suspicion.
“I came tae see yer extended family that didnae get tae spend much time with Nova over the weekend.” I smile softly, trying to sell the slight fib, keeping my expression carefully neutral.
Raven arches a brow, her eyes narrowing as she studies my face. I can feel her probing at the edges of our bond, testing for deception. I hold steady, maintaining the partial truth like a shield.
“Well, why don’t you and my dads spend time together?” Her tone is light, but I catch the knowing glint in her eyes. She’s not fooled, but she’s choosing not to press. “I have a free period because Callan is in a staff meeting, so I’m going to take Orpheus and Nova around campus.”
She takes our daughter from her father, cradling Nova against her chest with practiced ease, and turns and leaves. Her wings catch the sunlight as she walks away, Orpheus falling into step beside her, their black hair making them look like twin shadows moving across the courtyard.
“That was too easy.” Abraxis says, and I have to agree with him.
“Ziggy, mind keeping an eye on Raven and the wee one?” I arch a brow at the displacer beast, and he nods slowly.
“Consider it done.” He phases out of the courtyard in a ripple of displaced air, vanishing to watch over my mate and daughter from the shadows.
“So I did some digging.” Abraxis says without hesitation, his voice dropping to a murmur meant only for our small group.
“The courier we sent to the northern and eastern isles was found dead just over the Velician Mountains.” He pauses, his jaw tightening.
“Well, stuck in the mountains, I should say.”
“So who was it that came and represented the North and East?” Thauglor asks, and we wait as the pieces slip into place. No one knows.
He pulls out his phone and shows us pictures of what was left of the courier.
My stomach turns at the images—a body broken and frozen against a cliff face, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, face contorted in a last scream of terror.
Someone wanted this messenger to never arrive.
Someone wanted to ensure isolation between the dragon territories.
“Why wasn’t he reported missing?” Thauglor asks before I get the chance.
“Good question.” Abraxis’s voice is grim.
“It’s one I don’t have an answer to.” He flips to another set of pictures—personnel files, schedules, time logs marked with conspicuous gaps.
“There have been several officers from the northern outpost on the edge of Blackhaven’s original territory that have unaccounted time from the barracks. ”
I see the shift in Abraxas’s and Thauglor’s faces—a darkening of expression, a tightening of jaw. That was Abraxas’s old post, from what Raven told me. His soldiers. His command. The betrayal cuts close.
“All signs say we start there with those officers.” I pause and look down for a moment, my mind turning over the possibilities. “Or, it could be a diversion tae throw off anyone that’s looking.”
I raise my eyes to meet Thauglor’s gaze, then shift to Abraxas.
“Research the people with perfect attendance, perfect records. They may be another person tae focus on. The ones who appear too clean often have the most tae hide.”
Abraxas nods slowly, processing the strategy, then waves Keir over from where he’s been watching at the edge of the courtyard.
“What can I do for you?” Keir shakes my hand, then Thauglor’s, his stormy gray eyes alert and waiting. His grip is firm, confident—the handshake of a male who knows his worth.
“I need to get to the Northern Outpost as fast as possible.” The lie rolls smoothly off Abraxas’s tongue as he stares at Keir. “Surprise inspection.”
“Okay, I can do it.” Keir’s response is immediate, without hesitation. “It will take several leaps—I can’t phase as far as Zigmander can. We blink. It’s short-distance jumps in line of sight.”
I’m shocked by how honest Keir is about his species’ capabilities. That information is usually a well-guarded secret among the blink hounds, hoarded like precious currency. The fact that he shares it freely speaks to his trust in us—and to his commitment to this family.
“That works.” Abraxis admits. “Phasing with Ziggy usually leaves me ill.” No sooner does the last word leave his lips than he and Keir are gone. The air rushes into the space they vacated with a soft pop, leaving only the faint scent of ozone behind.
“What do ye think he’ll find?” I ask Thauglor as we start walking toward his office at Shadowcarve.
Our footsteps echo against the stone corridor, the walls lined with portraits of ancient headmasters and battle scenes from wars long past. The scent of old books and polished wood grows stronger as we approach his private chambers.
“Nothing good.” Thauglor’s voice is heavy. “He hasn’t been at the outpost since his injury unless Ziggy takes him.”
I know that look—the furrowed brow, the distant gaze, the way his jaw works as he thinks. He’s considering the same possibility I am. Someone got paid off by one of the other dragon royals. Someone was promised something big enough to betray their own.
“We’ll figure it out.”
Once we step into his office, the heavy door closing behind us with a solid thunk, I settle into the leather chair before his desk.
The room smells of parchment and ink and the faint musk that clings to dragon-kind.
Afternoon sunlight streams through tall windows, illuminating dust motes that dance in the air.
“What do ye think happened with Icarus?” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I thought he was Lily’s mate.”
Thauglor runs his hand down his face and groans, the sound vibrating through the quiet room.
“You know, and I know, that ice dragons are deceptive bastards.” His voice is bitter with old knowledge.
“I’m betting he used some of his magic to create a false bond.
When he didn’t hear what he wanted—like that Lily is so far down the line of succession—he went dormant. ”
I think back to what I remember of Icarus from way back in the day. The memories are fragmented, faded by centuries of imprisonment, but certain impressions remain. Cold eyes. Calculating smile. A hunger that had nothing to do with food. “He was quite power-hungry from what I remember.”
“That’s what I remember as well.” Thauglor stares at me, and I see the rage he’s trying to suppress—a fury that burns cold, more dangerous than fire. “I didn’t return his egg to the chamber.”
The words hang in the air between us. My brow rises slowly. “What did ye do with it?”
“I took it and flew out over the ocean and dropped it.” Thauglor leans back in his chair, looking rather pleased with himself. “Oh, I put it in a lead box first. Then dropped it.”
The image forms in my mind—Thauglor soaring over dark waters, a lead coffin clutched in his talons, releasing it to sink into the endless depths. A fitting end for a male who would manipulate Lily’s heart for political gain.