“Is everyone ready to go home?” Abraxis walks over to join us, his footsteps heavy on the churned earth. There’s something different about him too—a looseness in his shoulders, an openness in his expression that I’ve rarely seen.
“I need a shower.” Raven pulls at the material of her dress, grimacing at the state of it. The silk is ruined—torn and stained with blood and ichor and things I don’t want to identify. “This needs to be tossed out.”
She shrugs and sighs; the sound carrying more exhaustion than disappointment.
“Don’t worry about it.” Abraxis’s voice is surprisingly gentle. “I’ll replace it when we get home. It’s the least I can do.”
I can see Raven getting ready to fight him on it. Her jaw tightens, her eyes narrow, her wings shift in that way they do when she’s preparing to dig in her heels. Pride. Stubbornness. The refusal to accept anything that might be perceived as charity or pity.
Then something shifts.
She lowers her eyes and smiles—a small, soft smile that transforms her face. “Thank you, Dad.”
The word hangs in the air between them, weighted with significance. Dad. Not Abraxis. Not her nest father. Dad.
She kisses my cheek, her lips warm against my skin, and walks away. “I’ll go shift and lie down in the flight field. I’ll carry everyone home.”
There’s a look in Raven’s eyes I can’t quite identify. Something vulnerable beneath the exhaustion. Something hopeful beneath the wariness. Whatever happened between her and Abraxis while I was burning spiders—it changed things.
I watch her walk across the scorched ground, her black leather wings catching the last light of the dying sun, her stride confident despite everything she’s been through tonight.
“She’s so much like her mom; it’s not funny.” Abraxis’s voice pulls me from my observations. We fall into step behind Raven, following her toward the flight field where she’ll shift and carry us all home.
“What do you mean?” I ask, genuinely curious.
There are a thousand things he could be talking about. If I had to say which parent Raven takes after most, it would be Thauglor. The same fierce intelligence, the same protective fury, the same willingness to burn the world for those she loves. But that’s not all she is.
Her soft side is all Ziggy—that gentleness she shows to the hatchlings, that patience with the wounded, that capacity for forgiveness that surprises everyone who only sees the warrior.
Her tactical prowess is from Callan—the way she reads a battlefield, anticipates enemy movements, and positions her forces for maximum advantage.
Her capacity to love everyone, to expand her family until it encompasses an entire continent, is all Mina—that bottomless well of maternal devotion that makes her fight harder, love fiercer, protect more fiercely.
Her death glare—the one that makes grown dragons flinch and turns enemies to trembling wrecks—that’s Klauth. Pure, undiluted, ancient intimidation.
And the code of honor she holds herself to? The rigid standards of conduct, the refusal to compromise her principles even when it costs her? That’s Abraxis.
“Her pride,” Abraxis continues, his voice thoughtful. “I mean, I’m a fine one to speak. But her pride sometimes blurs her judgment, like it does mine.” He shrugs, the gesture self-deprecating in a way I’ve never seen from him.
“If I had to say what she got from you, it’s the code of honor she holds herself to.” I rest a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension that still lingers there. “That unwavering commitment to doing what’s right, even when it’s hard.”
“You really think so?” Abraxis looks genuinely shocked, his dark eyes widening with surprise.
We’ve reached the flight field now. Raven is already shifting, her human form giving way to the massive black dragoness that takes my breath away every time I see her. Scales shimmer into existence, bones crack and reform, and within moments she’s lowering herself to the ground, her great body settling onto the scorched grass.
We climb onto her back, finding handholds among her scales. The heat of her radiates through my palms—a living furnace, a creature of fire and acid and ancient power.
“Klauth and Thauglor are ‘decimate everything first, then worry about cleanup later.’ types of people.” I settle into position near Raven’s wings as she rises to take off, the powerful muscles beneath her scales bunching and releasing. “Mina is similar. Balor calculates everything before he attacks—he goes a few steps further than you do with it. Callan has at least three plansfor every plan. Ziggy is all stealth. Leander looks at the big picture before making a move.”
The wind whips past us as Raven gains altitude, the ground falling away beneath us, the devastated outpost shrinking until it looks almost peaceful from this height.
“Raven could have ended it in one huge acid bath.” I look down at the circle of acid burned into the earth around the section of trees that held Abraxis hostage. Even from here, the scar is visible—a perfect ring of destruction where nothing will grow for years. “You’re a black dragon like she is, so the odds are you would be immune to her acid.”
Abraxis shakes his head, his expression grim. “That’s not true. Her acid can burn me. We found out by accident when she was younger.” He pauses, and I see the memory flicker across his face. “She puked on me and some acid came up with it. I had third-degree burns for a week.”
I file that information away, adding it to my mental catalog of my mate’s capabilities. Her acid is stronger than other black dragons’. Strong enough to hurt her own kind. Strong enough to be a threat to anyone, regardless of their natural resistances.
“I’ve been mad and jealous for so long, I almost forgot how to be happy.” Abraxis stands up carefully on Raven’s back, his wings spreading for balance, and flexes them against the rushing wind. “I can’t fly for as long as I used to, but I can still fly. I forget that blessing sometimes.”
