Chapter 8
Finlay
‘You almost got us killed...’
I direct the accusation at my shift—my phoenix side that took control and led me straight into the path of a raging dragoness in heat. The memory of those first terrifying moments still makes my hands shake slightly. I sit in the worn leather recliner positioned close to the side of Raven’s bed, angled so I can watch her breathe. My bird won’t let me leave her even to go to work—won’t even let me step out of the room for more than a few minutes. That’s a first in all my centuries of existence.
Keir is shifted on her bed, his massive blink hound form taking up a significant portion of the mattress. His sleek sand-colored head rests on her ribs protectively, holding her close with the devotion of someone who’d die before letting harm come to their mate. I’ve never known a blink hound personally, so this is a new experience for me—watching the way his form shifts and shimmers slightly even in sleep, existing partially in this plane and partially in another.
He’s a good male from what I can tell—solid and loyal to a fault. Her other two males keep flitting in and out of her space,checking on her with the nervous energy of people who nearly lost something precious. Then there’s the orange cursed egg that even in deep sleep she holds onto, cradled against her chest like a child with a beloved toy. The shell pulses faintly with inner warmth, responding to her touch.
“How’s she doing?” Corvus asks as he steps into the room, his silver eyes immediately finding Raven’s still form. His boots are soft against the stone floor, barely making a sound.
“No change. Still sleeping. Her scales are still magenta in places.” I say almost clinically, falling back on my teacher’s voice as I stand up to stretch muscles that have gone stiff from sitting. I roll my shoulders and look our mate over with careful assessment. “I’ve never seen a dragoness with so many scales showing in human form.”
The black scales cover more of her than any dragon I’ve encountered in my long life—wrapping over her shoulders, down her arms, down her spine, creating intricate patterns like living armor. I move closer to get a better look, fascinated by the phenomenon.
Keir lifts his massive head to look at me with those unsettling soulless black eyes that seem to see through flesh to intention. Then he slips off the bed with fluid grace and shifts back to human form in a shimmer of reality folding. “That’s Raven’s story to tell,” he says with a soft snarl that carries a clear warning, before leaving the room with barely contained aggression.
I look over at Corvus, then at Keir’s retreating back as he disappears down the hallway. “Did I offend him?” I tilt my head, genuinely puzzled by the reaction, watching as Corvus moves tocarefully turn Raven onto her other side. He’s mindful of her wings, arranging them so they don’t cramp or fold wrong.
“No. He’s very protective of her.” Corvus’s voice carries understanding and patience. “It’s the first time both he and Hemlocke are experiencing Raven during her yearly. They don’t know what’s normal and what isn’t, so everything feels like a potential threat.” He pulls the thick blanket back up after he finishes moving her, tucking it around her shoulders with tender care.
“She was as terrifying as she was beautiful,” I admit, the memory of her massive skull dragon form hovering above me still vivid. The white, bone-like face, the enormous wings that blocked out the sun, the rage, and need burning in those sapphire eyes. I move closer and brush a silver streak of hair out of her face, resting it against her obsidian locks. The contrast is striking—my touch leaving a trace of silver flame against her midnight black. “In all my years, I have never seen a female skull dragon, nor a female born with wings in human form.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, needing to be closer to my unclaimed mate. The proximity eases something in my chest that’s been tight since I found her.
“That’s fair. None of us have ever seen a phoenix.” Corvus shrugs his shoulders, looking at me with curiosity barely concealed behind polite neutrality. “Raven felt the tether of the bond with you since before she claimed the orange cursed egg.” He raises a silver brow, clearly fishing for information.
“Yes, I remember the day well. I was elated.” The memory floods back—that first moment of recognition, of finally finding her after centuries of searching and dying and being reborn alone. I avert my eyes quickly, unable to hold his gaze. “When I realizedshe was Thauglor’s progeny, I clamped down on the bond as hard as I could.” The admission tastes like ash. Sighing, I move from the edge of the bed to lean against the cool stone wall across from her, putting distance between us.
“He’s on his way here to check on his daughter,” Corvus says as we hear voices echoing down the hallway—multiple people, moving with purpose. “Correction—by the feel of it, he’s here.”
“Aren’t we in your private family quarters?” I look around the room, really seeing it for the first time. The furnishings are comfortable but impersonal, lacking the intimate touches that would mark it as Raven’s personal space.
“No, our quarters are deeper in the compound, carved into the mountain itself.” Corvus’s voice carries weight as he explains. “We placed her up here so her family can come and check on her without navigating our lair. A dragoness’s lair can feel frightening to an outsider—the pressure, the territorial markers, the way the air itself feels claimed.”
“Especially a black dragoness’s lair,” Thauglor says as he steps into the room, his massive presence filling the doorway before he enters. The temperature seems to drop slightly with his arrival, and I can smell ozone and old power clinging to him.
“I believe it. Even up here, it feels like I have walked myself to my execution.” I raise my chin slightly, refusing to show fear despite the truth of my words, looking at the oldest living dragon on the continent. His sapphire eyes—identical to Raven’s—assess me with the weight of millennia.
“How is my most precious one?” The soft tone Thauglor uses throws me completely off balance, and I openly gape at him.The ancient, terrifying dragon sounds like nothing more than a worried father, his voice gentle as silk.
“She’s doing well. Whatever Balor did helped her relax and not fight the tonic.” I answer before Corvus can, my voice steady despite my nerves, looking at my mate with unconcealed adoration. She’s beautiful even like this—vulnerable in sleep, scales still flushed magenta from her heat, hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink.
“What boon do you desire, Finlay?” Thauglor looks up at me after sitting down carefully next to his daughter, the bed dipping under his weight. “I saw the destruction she caused when she escaped. She could have melted the eastern continent to glass if left unchecked.”
Drawing a deep breath that fills my lungs with courage, I straighten my spine, then drop to one knee, lowering myself before the father of my mate. The stone floor is cold and hard against my knees. I lower my head in deference to him, exposing the vulnerable back of my neck in a gesture of submission and respect.
“I wish your permission to court your daughter. The bond is there, and it burns bright—burns like my phoenix fire, constant and consuming. But I will not act upon it without your blessing and her consent.” I remain staring at the floor, not moving, barely breathing, until either he grants me his blessing or kicks me out of the room. The wait feels eternal.
A low rumble escapes his lips—could be approval, could be a threat, I can’t tell. Then I hear a sharp smack of flesh on flesh. “Stop being an ass, Thauglor. You and I both know we suspected him being her mate since the day of the choosing,” QueenWillamina’s voice fills the room with feminine authority and fond exasperation.
“I grant your request, Finlay. You may court my daughter. That is, if she accepts you.” Thauglor rests his hand on my shoulder, and the weight of it is both physical and symbolic. I feel a thousand times lighter, as if chains I didn’t know I was carrying have fallen away. My greatest fear is no longer a concern.
“Thank you.” The words feel inadequate for the magnitude of what he’s given me. I look up into both her parents’ eyes—Thauglor’s sapphire and Mina’s gold—seeing approval mixed with warning, then turn to Corvus.
“With your permission as lead drake, I wish to protect and provide for Raven.” I remain kneeling, looking up at him now. All of these formalities must be met for my phoenix to allow me to pursue our mate completely. My bird side is ancient and traditional, demanding proper protocols be followed.
