Chapter 20 Raven
Raven
The music that’s playing has a beautiful melody and a steady rhythm that’s easy to fall into step with.
The notes drift through the air like silk, weaving between conversations and the soft rustle of expensive fabric.
The grand hall is lined with elegantly draped tables where males sit with their parents, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of hundreds of crystal chandeliers.
Dad hands me the leather pouch containing the bloodline scroll from both the Temple of Bahamut and the Temple of Tiamat. The parchment crinkles softly as I adjust it in my hands. My bloodline is double certified—a rarity that carries weight in these political waters.
I walk counter-clockwise around the room, looking at the males and then the displayed bloodlines.
The scent of nervous excitement and expensive cologne fills the air, mixing with the aroma of fresh roses and candle wax.
Every male offers me his best smile, and some are even bold enough to offer me a rose.
Their stems are warm from their hands, carrying traces of their individual scents.
I accept the gifts with a nod and a smile, then move on, my wings rustling softly with each step.
Klauth made the change to the females approaching the males around the time of my birth—a progressive shift that gives us the power of choice.
Thorne comes running up to me, her footsteps light against the marble, and hangs on my arm as I walk around the room. Her familiar vanilla scent is comforting in the sea of unfamiliar faces. “Anyone interesting?”
“Several, but not for me. You, maybe. Or even Lily.” I smile at my sister as I stop at the next table, very aware that Corvis and Hemlocke can see me clearly from their positions.
“Your Highness.” The young male bows to me, his movement awkward with nerves.
I lower my head slightly to him and glance at his lackluster bloodline displayed on the table.
The parchment shows mediocre heritage at best. He offers me a rose with trembling fingers, and I add it to the growing mass in my arms.
“Thank you.” I smile sweetly at him and his parents, tasting the diplomatic words on my tongue, before moving on.
“How many roses do you have?” Thorne asks, her voice carrying amazement.
“Three dozen, give or take a half dozen.” I roll my eyes before stopping at the next table to read the bloodline.
The ink is crisp and formal, telling a story of moderate power, but nothing extraordinary.
Not very powerful, but not horrible either.
I bow my head again, and the male offers me another rose to add to my collection.
“What’s with the roses? Everyone keeps offering them to you.” Thorne’s curiosity is clear as she examines the growing bouquet.
“The male’s scent-mark the roses and offer them.
If anyone really stands out, you can find them again by scent.
” I explain while looking up across the room.
I’m four tables away from Corvis’s position, and Hemlocke, being a non-dragon, is leaning against the wall talking to my father.
Even from this distance, I can feel their attention on me like warm sunlight.
I stop at the next table like I have what feels like a thousand times and look at the bloodline with feigned interest. I make a show of running my finger down the list, taking longer than I have at previous stops.
The parchment is smooth beneath my fingertip.
The male offers me a white rose, its petals soft as silk, and I lower my head slightly before moving on.
I skip the next three tables because they hail from Blackhaven and they’re cousins of mine. The thought of their bloodlines mixing with mine makes my skin crawl with revulsion.
Finally, I make it to Corvis’s table, and I can see his parents pale as they notice the diadem on my head.
The weight of the crown feels heavier under their scrutiny.
I look at his bloodline, and my breath catches—it’s strong, probably one of the strongest besides my nest. The parchment practically glows with power and ancient heritage.
I hand Thorne my roses. Their combined scents create a heady perfume, and I reach into my pouch. I offer his father my scroll with both hands, palms up, in the traditional gesture of formal petition.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Corvis pale as he realizes I’m choosing him. His silver eyes widen with shock and something deeper—hope, perhaps, or fear. His father’s hands shake like autumn leaves as he unrolls the scroll and examines the bloodline written in black and white before him.
I stand tall with my wings flexed, displaying their impressive span. I still can’t sense Corvis as mine through any mystical bond, but I sure as hell am making a statement to the other females in the room. I glance over at my father and motion for him to join us.
The entire hall falls silent as if someone has muffled all sound.
Conversations cease mid-sentence, glasses pause halfway to lips, and even the musicians stumble slightly in their rhythm.
I am the first female before the age of twenty-one who has chosen a male, and the significance ripples through the gathered crowd like stones thrown into still water.
“Yes, little one?” Thauglor approaches, trying so hard not to burst out laughing as he watches how nervous Corvis and his family have become. I can see the barely contained mirth dancing in his sapphire eyes.
“I’ve given Jorah my scroll. I am petitioning to be deemed good enough for their progeny.” My face becomes an emotionless mask as I stare between my father and Corvis’s father, letting none of my true feelings show.
“Is my Raven not good enough for your son? We’ve trained him for over twenty years. I deem him strong enough.” Thauglor’s voice carries the weight of absolute authority, and I watch Jorah’s hand tremble as he holds my bloodline scroll.
“I feel we should wait for her to turn twenty-one.” Jorah’s voice wavers like a candle flame in the wind as he avoids making eye contact with me.
I turn my full attention to Corvis and stare at him with laser focus. His silver eyes shift to his dragon’s metallic gaze, and I match him by shifting mine to my dragon’s sapphire vision. I feel a warmth bloom in my chest, and my dragoness falls unusually silent, as if holding her breath.
Slowly, I extend my hand to him, palm up in invitation. The gesture feels loaded with significance, weighted with possibility. His eyes drop to my hand, studying it for a heartbeat, then he takes it with gentle firmness and stands, leading me to the dance floor.
The marble beneath our feet reflects the chandelier light like captured starlight. His hand is warm and slightly calloused from sword work, and I can feel the controlled strength in his grip.
“How do I...?” His hand hovers at my side, uncertain how to hold me with my wings in the way.
I take his hand and guide it to rest just above my right hip, then clasp his other hand in mine. He moves us slowly around the dance floor in silence, our steps creating soft whispers against the marble. I can hear his heart pounding from here, the rapid rhythm betraying his nerves.
“Did one of the twins steal your tongue?” I smile, trying to crack a joke to ease the tension between us.
He shakes his head, looking down at me with those mesmerizing silver eyes. Corvis stands about six feet, maybe six-one, making me feel delicate despite my own considerable height. “I'm just shocked you chose me.”
“Why?” I tilt my head, watching his expression change several times like clouds passing over the sun.
“I thought you saw me as another brother.” He laughs, but there’s vulnerability in the sound. “Then you got upset thinking I had a mate, and then there’s the scent-marking.” He releases my hand and cups my cheek, his palm warm against my skin as he looks into my eyes with intense focus.
Is he going to kiss me? The thought sends heat racing through my veins.
“No, not a brother. I thought you saw me as a sister, if I’m being honest.” I close my eyes, savoring the warmth of his hand against my cheek and breathing in his familiar scent of baked bread and ancient stone.
“It wasn’t until you did this that I realized I wasn’t sister-zoned.
” I place my free hand over his, feeling the strength in his fingers.
When I open my eyes, he’s closing the distance between us. His lips touch mine, and I think my heart might explode from the intensity of sensation. The kiss is gentle but electric, sending sparks racing along my nerves.
I close us within my wings, creating an intimate cocoon of black membrane that blocks out the watching crowd.
I drive my hands up into his hair—soft as silk and smelling faintly of baked bread—and kiss him back with growing passion.
There’s a flicker of something, an extra warmth blooming in my chest. A pull to be close to him that feels deeper than mere attraction.
He breaks the kiss, sipping gently from my bottom lip, and I open my wings when he pulls back. The cool air rushes back in, bringing with it the sounds of the hall and the reality of our audience.
“Two more weeks until your birthday,” he says with a smile that makes my knees weak.
I laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in my chest. “No, in two weeks is Lily’s birthday. Five days until my birthday. My clutch was born the week before Lily’s, a year later.”
Corvis double-blinks, his face going through a series of expressions as he processes this information.
He nods, walking me back over to his father’s table, his hand tightening its grip on mine like he’s afraid I might disappear.
He looks at my dad with something approaching panic. “Five days until Raven’s birthday?”
He asks as if I hadn’t just told him the answer. Thauglor’s eyes go comically wide as he looks from Corvis to me, then back to Corvis, and nods slowly.
“Did you confuse mine and Lily’s birthdays again, Dad?” I smirk, knowing full well the dads screw this up every year without fail.
“Yes?” He looks sheepish, then turns to my mom, who just shakes her head at him with fond exasperation.
I roll my eyes at both of them. “Males, I swear.” I look over at Corvis’s father, who’s still staring at my bloodline scroll like it might bite him. “Accept it or not.”
I look back at Corvis, letting my eyes roam over his body with obvious appreciation—the broad shoulders, the way his formal attire fits his frame, the strength evident in his stance. Then I look back at my mom and make a decision.
She comes running over with quick, light steps and jumps into my arms without hesitation. I spread my wings wide and fly us out through the open skylight above the hall, the cool night air rushing past our faces as we ascend.
The minute we clear the building, I let go of Mom, and she falls gracefully before shifting into her dragon form.
Within seconds, I shift as well, my massive black form exploding into existence.
We fly out over the ocean along the coast, following the familiar route we take when we don’t want to be tracked.
The salt air fills my nostrils, and the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below provides a soothing rhythm.
Mom knows I need to get my head straight after what just happened.
We rumble back and forth in our dragon voices, and I fill her in on everything I’ve figured out.
She explains the history from her perspective, and the secrecy finally makes sense.
If anyone had known Corvis was my mate, they would have used him against my parents.
We land at the site that was once Klauth’s castle, shifting back to human form on the windswept plateau. I walk to the cliff’s edge and look down into the water as it crashes against the rock face with thunderous force. The spray creates a fine mist that tastes of salt and freedom.
“Did you always know I would ascend and not Allister?” I turn and look over my shoulder at Mom, whose golden eyes reflect the starlight.
Mina steps close and snuggles against my side.
I wrap my wing over her shoulder, noting how much I’ve grown—she’s only five foot six, making me almost three inches taller.
“When he was starting fights and talking down to everyone from a young age, I knew he had taken after the worst traits of both species.”
“And then there’s me.” I smile and look out over the water, watching the moonlight dance on the waves.
“You are probably the most even-tempered of my children. I think it’s because you spent most of your time with the adults. You took on responsibilities far younger than the others.” I feel Mom sigh, her breath warm against my side.
“That’s hysterical—the black dragon with the iron dragon scales is the most even-tempered one.” I smile and kiss Mom’s temple, tasting the salt spray on her skin.
“You took after the diplomatic side of the iron dragons. For whatever reason, all the children always listened to you.” Her voice carries the weight of memories, warm with maternal pride.
“Diplomatic side of the irons, the temperament of a black, and the cunning of a green.” A laugh escapes my lips. “My poor mates are in trouble.”
“All five of them are, that’s for sure,” Mom says, and I pull away sharply.
“Five?” I hold up five fingers and stare at her, my heart skipping a beat.
“Yes, you’ve met three of them. You’ve identified two of them, and the fourth isn’t on the continent at the moment. The last one, I can’t get a fix on yet.” She gets that wicked gleam in her golden eyes, and I shake my head in disbelief.
“I think I’ve developed my wyrm gift already.” I look toward the rising moon, watching the stars stretch out over the mountains to the west beyond the temple and campus grounds.
“What makes you say that?” She tilts her head, studying me with maternal curiosity.
“I can understand other species’ languages.” I flex my wings, feeling the evening breeze ruffle through the membranes. Being a monarch, it would help me immensely to understand everyone I need to speak to.
“Oh shit, so you understood Leander’s and Titan’s conversation.” I simply nod when she says it. “Then Leander’s and Hemlocke’s conversation too.” I nod again, and she whistles low. “The world is in deep shit.”
We share a good laugh; the sound carrying across the water, and decide to sit down on the cliff’s edge to watch the moon rise over the ocean and the stars emerge like scattered diamonds. The stone is still warm from the day’s sun, and the night air carries the scent of sea spray and wild grass.
In five days, I will officially know Corvis and Hemlocke are my mates. In five days, everything I once knew will change forever. The thought fills me with equal parts anticipation and terror, but as I sit here with Mom, watching the stars appear, I feel ready for whatever destiny awaits.