“That was fun...” I smirk, looking at my mate who’s still glaring daggers at the back of my brother’s head. The protective fury radiating from her is almost a physical force.
Raven looks between Keir and me, then nods slowly. “I know other species find their mates younger than dragons do. But it doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.” Her voice carries the frustrated protectiveness of someone watching their baby sister grow up too fast.
“You said it yourself—you feel like a second mom to her. So it’s understandable that you’re extra protective of her.” I kissRaven’s forehead, breathing in her familiar scent and feeling her relax slightly under my touch.
“Which class do you have now?” We walk Raven out of the cafeteria and into the courtyard outside, the afternoon sun warm on our skin and the smell of cherry blossoms heavy in the air.
“Vaughn signed me up for art class since I scored higher than what the year-two primary courses offer.” She ticks off her schedule on her fingers. “After that, Shadowcarve for weapons training, then to the stable for more riding lessons. Apparently, with this year’s gathering, as heir apparent I need to ride in on horseback. Something about more flights coming from the eastern and western continents to acknowledge my place in the line of succession.” Raven shrugs her shoulders as if the political significance is inconsequential.
“Are you riding Gypsy?” Part of me feels a spike of jealousy at the idea of her riding another equine, even though I know it’s irrational. My unicorn side is possessive about who carries our mate.
“No,” she says the word firmly and moves to stand directly in front of me, her hands coming to rest on my chest. Her eyes shift to her dragon’s sapphire gaze as she stares up at me with complete sincerity. “I am safer riding your shift than anything else. I love Gypsy, but she’s no Titan. Honestly, none of them compare to you.”
She rises on her tiptoes, and I lean down to meet her halfway. She kisses my lips softly, and the taste of her floods my senses. “May I ride your unicorn for the Winter Gathering?”
“I would be honored.” The words come out rough with emotion. I kiss her more deeply, holding her close against me. Her wingswrap around us both, creating an intimate bubble of privacy, and she wraps her arms around my neck, deepening the kiss until I’m dizzy with want.
I become hard in seconds, my body responding instantly to her proximity, and I groan into the kiss, trying desperately to will the damn erection away. We’re in public, for God's sake.
That little minx slides deliberately down my body—making sure I feel every inch of her movement—and winks at me with wicked satisfaction before heading off toward the cherry blossom courtyard. Her hips sway with deliberate provocation, and she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
Shaking my head to clear it, I look at Keir, who’s trying very hard not to laugh at my obvious discomfort. “She’s up to something.”
“What makes you say that?” Keir asks innocently as we walk toward the stables, though his smirk betrays his amusement.
“Just call it a gut feeling.” I stop on the path, looking over toward Shadowcarve’s imposing walls. Something niggles at the back of my mind—instinct honed by months of knowing Raven’s patterns. “I think we need Corvus.”
I barely get the words out before Keir grabs my arm, and suddenly we’re blinking through space. Reality folds and unfolds around us in that nauseating rush, and we arrive in the courtyard of Shadowcarve with a softpopof displaced air.
Shaking my head to clear the disorientation, I look around, my vision still slightly doubled. “I really don’t want to travel like that again.” The sensation of being unmade and remade leaves my stomach churning. I glance over at Keir with reproach.
“Sorry, it was the fastest way to get here,” he says without any genuine remorse, already walking toward the sound of metal clashing against metal—the distinctive ring of practice combat.
Corvus is in the middle of the training ring, sparring with a fourth-year student. Sweat gleams on both their faces as they trade blow for blow; their movements are fluid and precise. With a single subtle feint, Corvus disarms the student and put his blade close to the young man’s throat. The student freezes, breathing hard.
“A moment of hesitation can cost you your life,” Corvus says, his voice carrying across the courtyard with authority. “Never hesitate. Don’t second-guess yourself. It can mean the difference between living or dying.” He nods to the student in dismissal, and the young man walks back to join the others, rubbing his wrist. “Next!” Corvus yells, then backs away, getting closer to where Keir and I stand watching.
He looks back at us and arches a silver brow in question. He makes a quick hand signal to Balor, who nods and takes over the class without missing a beat. “What’s wrong? Is Raven okay? Does she need me?” Panic edges into Corvus’s voice as he closes the distance between us, his silver eyes searching our faces for signs of crisis.
“She’s up to something. We can’t figure out what,” I say, watching Corvus’s expression shift from panic to exasperation.
“She’s trying to figure out what Finlay requires for his courtship. Since none of us know phoenix customs, she’s trying to find someone who would.” Corvus says this calmly, like it should have been obvious. “Probably headed to the Aurelian Conservatory—that’s where most of the avian species congregate.”
“She’s trying to research how to claim mate number four?” I tilt my head, looking at him with new understanding. Our mate is nothing if not thorough.
“Remember how she got with Keir?” Corvus glances between us. “He’s unmarked, and she only sees Finlay for one class at the Conservatory. She can’t keep an eye on him all day like she could with Keir here at Shadowcarve. Now she only has that one hour with him, and it’s driving her dragon crazy.”
“So knowing Raven, she’s going to keep finding excuses to check on him,” Keir says as if it’s common knowledge, nodding with understanding.
“Exactly. She’ll manufacture reasons to be near the Conservatory until she can figure out the proper courtship protocols.” Corvus pulls out his phone and taps the screen a few times. “She’s at the Aurelian Conservatory.” He turns his phone to face us, showing the little dot that represents Raven on the find-my-phone app.
“Should we go?” I ask, looking toward the conservatory, already calculating how long it would take to get there.
“Let nature take its course. As much as we want to get in the middle of everything, they need to work through this in their own time.” Corvus sounds more like a lead drake in this moment than he ever has—wise, patient, thinking of the long-term health of the nest rather than immediate impulses.
“Health of the nest talk tonight?” I pull up the calendar app on my phone and check the date. It looks like we’re due for our monthly check-in.
“Sounds good. We’ll meet at home tonight. Keir, maybe take out some ribs and wings and do some sort of vegetable to go withit?” The way Corvus phrases it as a question rather than an order is exactly why he’s respected as the lead drake in the nest. He guides without demanding, suggests without controlling.
“Consider it done. I’ll go get changed for class and figure out dinner.” Keir says before vanishing before our eyes, blinking out of existence with barely a ripple in the air.
“I’ll get back to work. I’ll see you at home.” I wave at Corvus, who’s already turning back to his students, and leave Shadowcarve’s training grounds.
The minute I step outside the boundaries of its ancient walls, I can finally breathe easier. The oppressive weight of centuries of violence and training that permeates those stones lifts from my shoulders like a physical burden being removed.
How do they train in there all day? The thought follows me as I head back toward the stables, breathing in the clean air and letting the tension drain from my muscles with each step.
