I lead him out onto the black sand beach that rings the chamber’s centerpiece. The volcanic sand is fine and warm beneath my bare feet, shifting slightly with each step. The hot spring in the center is deep and vast; its steaming surface covers over fifty percent of the interior space. The water is crystal clear, revealing dark depths that seem to go down forever. The scent of minerals and sulfur hangs in the humid air, and condensation beads on every surface.
“This place is incredible,” Finlay breathes, his voice filled with genuine awe. He steps away from me to look around, his head tilting back to take in the soaring ceiling where stalactites drip slowly into the spring below. He ignites his hand—flames springing to life with a softwhoosh—and presses his burning palm to the water’s surface. The fire reflects off the rippling liquid but doesn’t spread. “Just checking for flammable gases from the hot spring,” he explains with a smile as he turns to face me, extinguishing his hand with a gesture.
“I’m glad I caught you two here.” Mom’s voice comes from over my shoulder, and I turn to see her standing at the chamber entrance with Thauglor beside her. I can see how uneasy she feels being in my den—the way her shoulders are slightly hunched, her breathing shallow. The territorial pressure down here must be overwhelming for another dragoness.
I close the distance quickly and hug Mom to me, breathing in her familiar scent. “I know how uncomfortable it must be down herefor you.” My voice carries apology and understanding. I turn and start leading her and my father Thauglor back out of my private area, guiding them toward the more neutral common spaces where the pressure won’t be so intense.
“Why is it uncomfortable?” Fin asks when he catches up to us, his longer legs eating up the distance easily. There’s genuine confusion in his voice.
“You didn’t feel anything down there?” Thauglor asks, looking at Finlay with obvious puzzlement. His sapphire eyes narrowed slightly, assessing.
“It must be because Raven has claimed you,” Mom says with a knowing smile, and I watch Finlay’s expression shift to something that looks distinctly insulted.
“What kind of male do you take me for, my Queen?” His voice carries an edge of wounded dignity. “I have done no such thing. I must court her first. To claim her without proper courtship would dishonor both of us.” I can tell that Finlay’s ancient sensibilities have been genuinely offended by the implication that he’d skip traditional protocols.
Moving quickly, I snuggle against his side and wrap a wing around his shoulders, the black membrane creating a private space between us. “With dragons, it’s usually customary to at least mark one’s mate first, once the bond is accepted. It settles our beasts, keeps them from seeing every other male as a threat.” I look up at him and raise an eyebrow, hoping he understands I’m not criticizing his restraint.
“You should have seen what happened with Keir,” Corvus supplies helpfully, a hint of amusement in his silver eyes. “Raven almost went on a rampage when one of his packmates messedwith him. Damn near killed the male—would have if we hadn’t intervened.”
“She’s rather calm this time,” Keir observes, sounding almost surprised by the fact.
“Finlay is in her lair, safe away from the world,” Thauglor explains, then steps closer to Finlay with obvious intention. A deep, guttural growl rips from my throat before I can stop it, my body perceiving my father as a threat to my unclaimed mate. Scales ripple down my arms in waves of black and iridescent color as talons break through the tips of my fingers with sharp pricks of pain, ready to go on the offensive.
I pull Finlay back with me protectively, positioning myself between him and my father. My body shudders as I hold on to Fin, trying to reassure myself that he’s safe, that the threat isn’t real. “I’m sorry, Dad. Please don’t do that again.” My voice comes out strained, caught between apology and warning.
“I was just testing a theory, my most precious one,” Dad says gently, motioning behind him to the corner of the sitting room where we’ve emerged. His voice carries no judgment, only scientific curiosity. “We brought your eggshell as requested so everyone can see how big dragon eggs actually are.”
Dad extends a hand to me, and I force myself to step away from my mate. Every instinct screams at me not to leave Fin vulnerable, but I trust my father. I hug Thauglor tightly, and he immediately slips his massive wings over my shoulders. I return the gesture, wrapping him up in my own wings until we’re cocooned together. We purr so loudly the sound vibrates through my chest and into his, resonating between us until the protective beast within me settles and quiets.
“She’s always been a daddy’s girl,” I hear Mom say with fondness threading through her voice. “These two share a bond stronger than I’ve ever seen between a drake and its progeny.” Her tone sounds wistful, carrying a hint of gentle envy.
“It’s true. My dad isn’t like this with me or my sister,” Corvus says, and I hear him laugh—a warm sound full of memories. “Anytime I couldn’t find Raven growing up, all I had to do was find Thauglor. She was right there beside him, like his shadow. Most times I’d find them with practice swords, him on his knees to match her height. They would train for hours, Raven giggling every time she would land a lucky strike.” The joy in Corvus’s tone makes my heart warm.
“You were allowed around our mate from such a young age?” Finlay asks, and Dad opens his wings to release me.
“Drakes know who their mate is by sight as early as five years old,” Dad explains as I step away from his embrace. “Raven was only a few months old when Corvus, at seven years old, knew she was his.”
I move to Finlay, drawn by the golden thread of our bond, and smile up at him. Taking his hands in mine, I guide one to rest against my neck where my pulse beats visibly. “I felt drawn to Corvus when I first met him. Had to be near him. I felt safe with him in a way I couldn’t explain.” Laughing at the memory, I look over my shoulder at Corvus, seeing his silver eyes soft with affection. “He brought me a rabbit—caught it himself and presented it to me like treasure. He said he would always hunt for me, provide for me and protect me until the end of our days.”
Corvus nods, looking down at his hands with a gentle smile. “I’ve loved you every minute of every day since then. Even when you were too young to understand what that meant, I knew.”
Several tears roll down my cheeks unbidden, hearing the raw emotion in Corvus’s voice. Finlay shocks me by gently pressing me into Corvus’s waiting arms—a gesture of understanding and acceptance that speaks volumes. I hold my dragon mate tightly, burying my face against his neck and breathing in his familiar scent.
“I love you too,” I whisper against his skin. “I think I’ve always loved you, even if I didn’t know why.”
I hear my parents quietly leave, their footsteps fading down the corridor, giving us privacy for this moment. I sigh contentedly, still hugging Corvus close.
“This egg is huge,” Finlay’s voice breaks through the moment, carrying amazement. I turn in Corvus’s arms to look at where Fin is examining my eggshell pieces.
“Yeah, Mom laid my egg as her dragoness. She was almost at wyrm status when she had me.” I accept the tube of glue Hemlocke passes me and carefully begin reassembling the final pieces of my eggshell. The fragments fit together like a three-dimensional puzzle, and I stare at the completed shell in wonder. At one point, my dragoness fit inside this protective casing, curled tight and growing.
I can clearly see the different scale patterns impressed on the shell’s surface—physical evidence of my mixed heritage. The more coffin-shaped scales of the basilisk bloodline, the serrated edges characteristic of red dragons, and the shield-shaped scales of black dragons all overlap in intricate patterns.
“How many eggs do dragons lay? Phoenixes lay one to six in a clutch,” Finlay asks as he carefully takes the completed egg from me, testing its weight and getting a feel for its substantial size.The shell is nearly three feet tall and probably weighs twenty pounds even empty.
“Depends on the age of the dragoness and how many fathers are involved,” I explain, watching his face as he processes this information. “For the most part, we can control how many hatchlings we have at once through conscious effort. On rare occasions, there’s an extra egg that surprises everyone.” My thoughts drift to my sister Thorne, who we thought was the only chimera until I started showing multiple gifts.
“So you have five males, counting Solaris,” Finlay states without hesitation, no judgment in his voice—just acceptance of fact.
