Chapter 12
Raven
My room lookslike a tornado hit it—or maybe like a dragon threw a tantrum, which isn’t far from the truth. Clothes are strewn across every surface, hangers scattered like casualties of war, and half my closet’s contents are piled on my bed in chaotic heaps of fabric and rejected possibilities.
A knock sounds at my door, and I open it to find Mom standing there with that knowing expression mothers seem to master. “Corvus said you were stressing out, so he called for reinforcements.” She walks straight over to my bed with confident purpose, clearing a space among the clothing disaster, and sits down. She pats the spot next to her invitingly.
“How did you do it, Mom? Balance all the personalities?” The question comes out more desperately than I intended. I sit next to her, and she gently pulls me down to lie with my head in her lap like she used to do when I was a hatchling. Her fingers thread through my hair with soothing repetition, and I feel tension I didn’t know I was carrying melt away.
“It’s not as easy as it looks, to be honest,” Mom says with a rueful smile I can hear in her voice.
“I’m surprised Dad hasn’t roasted Abraxis on several occasions.” I draw in a deep breath of her familiar scent—and close my eyes as Mom massages my scalp with practiced fingers. The gentle pressure feels like heaven.
“A war drake that can’t fight is lost,” Mom says quietly, and I hear the profound sadness threading through her words. The weight of what Abraxis endured—what helost—hangs heavy between us.
I sit up immediately and hug Mom to me, wrapping her up in my wings to create our own private cocoon. “Dad showed me the memories of what happened and how bad off Abraxis was. I get it—I almost lost the skies too.” The thought of never flying again makes my chest tight with phantom panic. “He’s still a general, and he still commands his troops. That matters.”
“We put him back in therapy, especially since most of the kids chose to move to Blackhaven,” Mom says, arching a brow as she looks at me with penetrating understanding.
I know exactly why my siblings chose to join me at Blackhaven, and it’s because of Abraxis’s controlling tendencies. The unspoken truth hangs between us. Nodding in acknowledgment, I get up and start walking around the room, surveying the clothes I’ve tossed everywhere in my panic.
I hold up a knee-length dress with long, flowing sleeves and a modest collar that won’t offend his old-world sensibilities. The fabric shimmers as it moves, shades of black bleeding into deep red with touches of orange that seem to glow like embers. “What do you think, Mom?”
“Looks good—go slip it on.” Mom smiles warmly as she picks up my discarded clothes with efficient movements, creating orderfrom chaos. It’s nice now that I’m the dominant dragoness—we’re no longer constantly trying to kill each other anymore, and things can finally go back to how they were when I was young. The territorial tension that used to crackle between us has dissipated completely.
“Raven...” I hear Corvus calling for me through the door, his voice carrying affection and barely contained excitement.
“Yeah?” I step behind my dressing screen and slip the dress on, feeling the cool fabric slide over my skin. I zip it up carefully, mindful of my wings, then step out from behind the screen. When I open the door, Corvus is standing there with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his face.
“Finlay brought his belongings and is moving into the room you set up for him.” He’s practically glowing with happiness, his silver eyes bright. “I’ll move the health of the nest talk to tomorrow if that works for you?”
Relief floods through me. “That would be great, thank you.” I kiss him softly, tasting coffee and contentment on his lips, then turn to Mom, who’s smiling at me with maternal pride.
“Corvus has turned into an amazing lead drake. You’re a very lucky female.” Mom hugs me tight, then kisses my forehead with warm lips before leaving, giving me privacy to finish preparing.
I turn to face the full-length mirror in my room and brush my hair one last time, watching the obsidian strands catch the light. The silver streaks where my horns are in dragon form stand out prominently. “Here goes everything,” I murmur to my reflection.
I look over at Xero curled up on my bed, her small bat-winged body wrapped protectively around the egg carrier. “We’ll be back later. Take good care of Solaris.”
“I will. Enjoy dinner,”Xero purrs to me, her mental voice warm with feline affection as she drapes a leathery wing over the carrier like a blanket.
Stepping out of my room, I see all four of my mates gathered together at the kitchen island, talking in low voices that cut off when they sense my presence. Finlay is actually dressed casually for once—a shocking departure from his usual formal attire. He’s wearing a black button-down shirt that fits him perfectly, the fabric emphasizing his lean frame, and what looks like jeans.
He’s wearingjeans. Dark denim that fits him as if it were tailored specifically for his body. I think my heart just stopped. His ass looks phenomenal in those pants—absolutely sinful.
“You look amazing, my eternal.” Finlay’s words hit me like a physical force, and tears immediately start rolling down my cheeks. Behind him, Corvus drops his glass with a sharp crash, shards scattering across the counter.
To be called a dragon’s eternal, or to be called anyone’s eternal, means nothing will ever come before you. It’s the highest possible declaration of devotion.
“Why do you cry? Did I say something wrong?” Finlay’s honey eyes widen with concern, and he takes a step toward me.
I shake my head quickly, swiping at the tears with trembling fingers. “No, no, nothing's wrong. The term ‘eternal’ for a dragon means I am placed above everyone and everything—even family, even duty, even survival itself.” My voice cracks with emotion.
Finlay’s eyebrows rise slowly as understanding dawns across his beautiful features. He glances back at Corvus, who is methodically cleaning up the broken glass with shaking hands, then back at me.
“Phoenixes say it a bit differently,” Finlay explains, moving closer until we’re barely a foot apart. “You are my flame. A phoenix without its flame is nothing—it cannot be reborn, cannot exist. You are literally my reason for continuing to live.” He tentatively kisses my lips for the first time—really kisses me, not just a chaste peck—and I think I might actually die from the intensity of it.
His lips are warm and soft, tasting faintly of cinnamon and smoke. The kiss is gentle but carries the weight of nine hundred years of searching and loneliness finally ending.
