Chapter 45
Raven
I feel the pull in the direction I sense Keir—a warm tug in my chest that says he’s somewhere in the eastern wing.
But a more insistent pulse pulls me deep into the bowels of the academy, toward the ancient stone corridors that smell like earth and secrets.
I find my birth father and nest father Klauth standing on either side of a large oak table scarred with centuries of use.
The torchlight casts dancing shadows across their faces.
“It had to be fucking drow.” My father practically hisses, and I’ve rarely heard him use that tone—raw fury barely contained.
“From what we learned, Abaddon was working with the drow before Mina roasted him. I believe the drow are working with the mages now.” Klauth says, looking from the documents scattered across the table, then up at my dad. The papers are covered in what looks like blood-red ink.
“It wouldn’t shock me. We still have the issue of which teacher was working with Kai and Abaddon from twenty years ago.
” My dad tilts his head, then looks toward the door.
“Raven...” Shock is evident on his face as he gawks at me, like he can’t believe I’m standing here. Like I’ve crossed some invisible line.
I raise my hand in a placating manner and approach cautiously, my boots quiet on the stone floor.
“Mom told me stories of what had happened. Being the future nest mother and one day—a billion years in the future—queen.” That earns me a smile from Klauth that softens his normally stern expression.
“I need to know our history and potential enemies.” Stepping closer, I see all the documents sprawled out across the table—maps, reports, drawings of the drow compound.
“The nest you and your mother demolished is now an enormous crater in the center of the lake.” Thauglor says with a wince, like the memory still hurts.
His eyes drift to my wing, and I shift it, stretching it open.
The healed bone pulls slightly but holds.
Dad moves closer and looks at the main bone that had been broken, his fingers hovering but not quite touching.
“Are you cleared to fly with it in human form?” His sapphire gaze flickers, showing the hidden concern beneath the casual question.
“I am going later today to get another set of X-rays. I can fly as my dragon as long as Corvis gets me off the ground before I shift.” My eyes dart between both dads, and I can sense their fear that I am a sitting target. Grounded. Vulnerable. The heir who can’t escape if someone comes for her.
“What time do you go?” Klauth asks as he opens his arms to me.
I kiss Thauglor on the cheek, breathing in his familiar scent of smoke and old leather, then move to snuggle into Klauth’s arms. He purrs deeply for me—a sound that rumbles through his chest and into mine—and I sigh, relaxing in his grip despite the weight of everything pressing down on us.
“After fifth period. Callan and Vaughn are excusing Keir and me so I can go for the check-up.” I bite my bottom lip and take a step back, looking up into Klauth’s crimson-flecked amber eyes. I shift my weight anxiously from foot to foot.
“With what we’ve figured out...” I bite my bottom lip, trying to figure out how I want to say the next part.
The words feel too big, too important to mess up.
“You’re basically my birth father, and so is Balor.
” I spit it out, almost tripping over my own words.
I open the sleeve of my jacket and stare at his scale implanted there—crimson and amber swirled together, a permanent mark of what we are to each other.
“That is true. What’s on your mind, precious one?
” Klauth brings his hand up and puts the side of his index finger under my chin to get me to look up at him.
My eyes dart around the room for several moments, barely flicking up to make eye contact.
The anxiety builds in my throat like I’m trying to swallow glass.
“Am I? I mean, may I?” I bite my lip harder, trying to push past the anxiety and fear of rejection that’s threatening to choke me.
“May you what?” He’s smiling, and I see the start of tears gathering in the corner of his eyes, making them shine in the torchlight.
“May I call you Dad?” A single tear rolls down my cheek.
I feel it rolling slowly until it hits my chin, warm and vulnerable.
“Calling you my nest father feels wrong knowing you and Dad and Balor all are a part of who I am, what made me.” I pull my wings in tight and draw my shoulders up, making myself smaller, bracing for rejection.
Before my mind has a chance to wander and dredge up negative thoughts, Klauth hugs me to him tightly.
The thunderous purr that escapes his lips makes the tears I was fighting fall freely.
A soft laugh escapes my lips, relief flooding through me.
“Well, you have fathered four children now. The most in the nest.”
Klauth laughs as he sets me down and kisses my forehead, the gesture so tender it makes my chest ache. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” He has the broadest smile and is probably the happiest I’ve ever seen him—like I’ve given him some precious gift.
“I technically have three. Raven, Thorne, and Orpheus—unless your son is a chimera too.” Thauglor says with a smirk, though there’s something wistful in his expression.
“Let’s face it, Daddy. If Allister had a special ability, the entire nest, and school would know.
” I say, looking at Thauglor before turning to look at Klauth.
“Hmm... Klauth, I’ll call you Dad—you’re more serious.
Thauglor, you’ll stay Daddy.” I purse my lips, thinking about what to call Balor.
“I think I’ll call Balor Pops. That way everyone knows who I’m calling.
” This whole being a chimera thing is getting very confusing.
Three fathers, multiple bloodlines, abilities I’m still discovering.
“For your and the other children’s safety outside of the nest, call me by my first name.
Same thing with Balor—we don’t need you, Orpheus, or Thorne being targeted.
” Klauth says, and I nod, seeing the wisdom behind it.
The weight of being heir settles heavier on my shoulders.
Even how I address my family becomes a security concern.
“Fair enough. For now, I need to find Keir and get to weapons class.” I move between both dads, giving them hugs, breathing in their scents one more time. “Love you, bye!” I yell on my way out the door, my voice echoing down the stone corridor.
Now to hunt down mate number three. The bond pulls me in his direction—stronger now after our bonding—and I follow it through the academy like a thread connecting our souls.
But even as I walk, part of me stays vigilant. Someone out there is watching. And now that I’m healing, now that I’m stronger, they might be planning their next move.
I just have to be ready when they do.
The hallways feel longer than usual, the shadows deeper. Every corner could hide a threat. Every unfamiliar face could belong to the enemy.
But I’m not the same dragon who fell from the sky. I’m stronger now. I have three mates, three fathers, and abilities I’m still learning to control.
And I will protect what’s mine.
Always.
I love weapons class.
Sighing, I lean against the cool stone wall between Orpheus and Keir, watching Balor and Abraxis demonstrate the new moves for today.
Their blades sing through the air, steel catching the afternoon light.
“The terror twins are at it again.” I bump shoulders with Orpheus, feeling his warmth through our shirts.
“Yeah, it has a whole new meaning now.” Orpheus’s smile is radiant, transforming his usually serious face, and he looks over to the sidelines where his mate is waiting for him on the bench. I believe the female’s name is Eila if I’m correct—petite with dark hair and shy eyes.
“How’s your mate doing?” I whisper softly to my brother, keeping my voice low enough that only he can hear.
“Very good. She’s picked up time in the gardens and nursery.” He offers her a little wave, and she blushes, the color spreading across her cheeks like sunrise.
“Raven versus Keir.” Abraxis calls out, and I shake my head. Bastard is doing it on purpose. He knows I won’t lose my temper with my mate. He’s testing me, pushing boundaries I’m still learning to navigate.
“After you.” Keir says with a deep bow and a sweep of his arm toward the ring, his storm-gray eyes warm with affection.
I lower my head to him and proceed to the designated spot, my boots crunching on the packed earth. “Rules?”
“No maiming or murder.” Abraxis spits out, his tone clipped. “First blood or whoever yields first.”
I arch a brow, looking at Keir. “He’ll yield because he doesn’t like sparring with me. Why don’t you spar me, General? Wing spikes and talons allowed, no killing or maiming?” My eyes dart over to my mom, and she moves forward, her expression shifting to something predatory.
“No wing spikes, and I’ll spar you.” Mom says, and the courtyard falls silent. The training sounds—grunts, steel on steel, breathing—all cease. Everyone turns to watch.
I’ve got two inches in height on my mom and about three inches of reach over her.
But she has twenty more years of experience than I do—twenty years of battles, wars, kills.
“Deal. Summon all the dads.” I glance over at Corvis and Keir as I pull on the bond with Hemlocke, sending urgency through the connection.
This is going to be the battle to end all battles.
Balor walks over to me as I strip out of my leather jacket, the material sliding off my shoulders. The air hits my bare arms, raising goosebumps. “What are you doing? You need your leathers.”
“Dad, I’m okay. I promise.” It’s the first time I’ve called Balor dad, and he pauses, staring at me, trying not to react. I can see the emotions flickering across his face—pride, fear, love.
“Scales?” He looks at my arms as they rise, black armor rippling up from my wrists to my shoulders.
I can almost control where what scales rise now—a skill I’m still mastering.
My arms and legs, I notice, are scaled like a basilisk.
Their scales are harder than any known dragon scales ever to exist, except maybe mine and Mom’s.
“They’re like mine.” He whispers, his voice thick.
I nod as I look up at him, seeing my reflection in his eyes.
I tie my mask over my face after I braid my hair back, the leather straps tight against my skull.
I roll my shoulders as I raise the scales up over my throat just in case—vulnerable flesh hidden behind impenetrable armor.
Flexing my wings several times, I stretch my limbs before taking a fighting stance with both swords drawn.
The weight of the blades feels right in my hands, an extension of my body.
“Mina, reconsider.” Thauglor says as Mom ties her mask over her face. She does like I did—no leather jacket, scales for armor on her arms that shimmer iron and emerald.
“You know I can’t. I need to know she’s ready for the flight. You don’t inherit the title of dominant dragoness. You earn it.” Mom says, and I see the wisdom in it. Power without earning it is no power at all. This is my test. My trial by combat.
“Ladies, you know the rules. No maiming, no killing, no cutting off of limbs or blinding. No acid, no lightning, and no use of familiars in the battle.” Callan adds, his voice carrying across the silent courtyard.
We walk to the center of the ring and bump fists.
Her knuckles are hard against mine, scales meeting scales.
“Don’t hold back, Raven. I am not your mother in this ring.
I am a threat to your nest and hatchlings.
I am a threat to your mates’ safety.” Mom says, and I feel the rage boiling under my skin like acid waiting to be released.
My vision tints red at the edges, the world narrowing to just her.
“Fight!” Callan calls out, and Mom charges.
Everything seems to move in slow motion.
My heartbeat fills my ears—a thunderous drum that drowns out everything else.
I sidestep, my body moving on instinct honed by years of training, bringing one sword up to block.
Steel screams against steel, the vibration traveling up my arm.
I strike out with the flat side of the blade to Mom’s thigh.
The impact reverberates through the metal.
I use my wings to throw myself backward—the leather membranes catching air, giving me distance.
I drop back down into my stance again, knees bent, weight balanced.
A low rumble escapes my throat—a warning, a challenge.
She threatened my mates. My canines elongate, pressing against my bottom lip until I taste blood in my mouth—copper and salt.
The figure moves faster this time, a blur of iron and emerald scales.
All I hear is the slow beating of my heart in my ears—lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub.
Our blades meet, strike for strike in succession—high, low, feint, parry.
The sound of steel on steel creates a deadly rhythm.
Everything in the background fades away—the watching students, my mates’ worried faces, the dads standing at the ring’s edge.
All I see is the figure in black. The figure that threatened what’s mine.
My dragoness rises, demanding blood, demanding dominance, demanding proof that I can protect my nest.
And I will show her.
I will show everyone.
The heir apparent is not weak. The heir apparent is not a target.
The heir apparent is deadly.