He shifts his hands, his talons extending, and begins preening Raven’s scales. The gesture is intimate, paternal—a father grooming his daughter, showing care through action rather than words. I watch Raven’s massive form relax slightly beneathhis touch, a low rumble of contentment vibrating through her scales.
“When she broke her wing...” Abraxis’s voice catches, the words strangling in his throat.
The memory rises unbidden in my mind. The explosion. The fall. Raven’s scream as her wing crumpled beneath her, the bones shattering, the membrane tearing. The sickening splash when she hit the water, from what Keir told us.
“None of us knew what to do.” My voice has gone thick with emotion. “Her wings in her human form are such a big part of her life. Where the one broke, they would have had to amputate it.”
The thought still makes my blood run cold. Raven without her wings. Raven grounded, earthbound, stripped of the flight that defines so much of who she is. She would have survived, but something essential would have died in her.
“I had flashbacks of what I endured.” Abraxis stops what he’s doing and looks up at the stars beginning to emerge in the darkening sky. “I was so angry it happened to her too.”
He bites his bottom lip, and I see him struggling with something. A truth he’s kept buried. A piece of the puzzle I never had.
“Mina was beside herself. It was her breath weapon that caused the explosion.” The words come out rough, reluctant. “It knocked the three of them out of the sky. Only Raven got hurt.”
The silence that follows is heavy with revelation.
That was part of the event that no one spoke about. No one blamed Mina—at least not out loud. But the guilt has been eating at her ever since. And Thauglor, who let Raven go into thatbattle, who couldn’t protect her, who watched his daughter fall from the sky...
“She still blames herself for what happened.” Abraxis’s voice is barely audible above the wind. “Thauglor blames himself for letting her go.”
“We all know that once Raven sets her mind on something, it’s happening whether we like it or not.” I try to lighten the mood, and Abraxis and I share a laugh—brief, but genuine.
“That’s why I said she’s so much like her mother.” Abraxis offers me a small smile before standing up. “Mina was the same way until she laid her first clutch.”
He walks up Raven’s back, his steps sure despite the wind and the altitude, heading toward the spot behind her horns where he’ll ride for the rest of the journey. “Hopefully, once everything is said and done, Raven will be the same way.”
I watch him settle into position, watch him rest his hands on my mate’s massive skull, watch the easy affection in the gesture. He’s still fighting his demons—I can see it in the tension that never fully leaves his shoulders, in the shadows that lurk behind his eyes.
But for once, it looks like they’re not winning.
