Chapter 15
Hemlocke
Health of the nest talk…
I finish making the ribs and wings, the savory aroma of barbecue sauce and seasoned meat filling our kitchen until my mouth waters. I set the enormous platters out on the table with careful precision, arranging them so everyone can reach easily. Corvus and Keir are working in tandem, arranging the table settings with the efficiency of people who’ve done this many times before—each place mat perfectly aligned, silverware gleaming under the warm overhead lights.
There’s even a spot set for Solaris, complete with a small plate positioned where his egg carrier usually sits. Speaking of the ancient dragon, his carrier rests in his designated place, with Xero curled protectively around the orange shell. The little tressym’s bat wings are draped over the egg like a blanket, and she purrs softly in her sleep.
“When are Raven and Finlay due home?” Keir asks as he places the last plate with a soft clink of ceramic against wood.
“Any minute now, in theory. Finlay said he had a faculty meeting this afternoon, and Raven needed to go for a last fitting before tomorrow’s formal.” I pull out my phone and look at the digital calendar we all share, scrolling through the color-coded entries.
“This digital calendar was a brilliant idea,” Corvus says as he leans over my shoulder to look at the week’s events, his silver eyes scanning the screen. Friday night is the Winter Formal—marked in red. Saturday marks the first night of the Great Gathering—marked in gold. Next Thursday is Raven’s birthday according to the calendar—marked with a little cake emoji that Keir added.
“What are we doing for Raven’s birthday?” I look at the others, and they all pause mid-motion, clearly realizing none of us have discussed this yet.
“Ziggy suggested breaking the day up equally between us and going out to dinner as a family afterward,” Keir offers, his stormy gray eyes flicking between us as he gauges our reactions.
“What day are the dominance challenges scheduled?” I walk over to the wall-mounted calendar we share with Raven’s extended family—a massive thing covered in different colored markers and sticky notes. “Looks like the day before her birthday.” I look back at the others just as Finlay walks through the door, his flame-colored hair slightly disheveled from the wind.
“Wow, everything smells amazing.” He pauses in the doorway, breathing in deeply, then looks between the three of us with narrowed honey eyes. “What did I miss?” His tone carries the wariness of someone who’s walked into a serious conversation.
“Going over the schedule for the next week. Raven’s birthday is next Thursday, and we were thinking about dividing the day up between all of us, then going to dinner as a family.” I raise my brows, waiting to see what he says. As the newest mate, his input matters.
“Sounds good.” Finlay walks over and examines the shared calendar more closely, his finger tracing over the various entries. “Do you think anyone is going to challenge Raven during the dominance fights?” He looks between us with genuine concern creasing his brow.
“No, but they may challenge Corvus for a place at Raven’s side,” I say, looking at the silver dragon in question. He nods grimly, his jaw tightening—clearly already expecting this possibility.
The glass doors to the balcony suddenly slide open with enough force to rattle in their tracks, and Raven steps through. The evening wind catches her wings, making them flare dramatically. “No one else is joining this nest.” Her sapphire eyes are blazing like blue fire—bright and intense enough to hurt to look at directly.
The bone plates in her face have shifted forward, visible beneath her skin, and her features are more angular and aggressive than I’ve ever seen them. She looks like a predator barely contained in human form.
“Magnus, the King of the North, is already bringing males to offer to me as potential mates.” The abhorrence in her voice and the guttural undertone of her dragoness speaking through her makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. My unicorn side registers the threat immediately, urging me to either submit or fight.
“How many is he bringing?” Corvus asks, stepping forward with obvious concern. It’s usually the lead drake’s honor—and burden—to fight for the female against unwanted suitors.
“Dozens...” Raven’s eyes lower, and she stares at the hardwood floors beneath her feet like she can see through them to some distant horror. Her hands clench into fists at her sides. “Plus, I have the dominance challenges this year.” She makes deliberate eye contact with each of us and I can see the fear hiding behind her rage.
“Oh, shit... That’s right, it’s usually your mom who fights those,” Keir says as he moves closer, careful not to spook her when she’s this on edge.
“From what I know of dragon law, Raven can fight for herself against the suitors.” Finlay’s voice carries calm certainty as he smiles, looking at me. “All our mate needs to do is shift, and that should scare most of them off immediately.”
“That’s right!” The realization hits me, and I run over to hug Raven, pulling her against my chest and feeling some of the tension drain from her body. “You’re a skull dragon—you’ll be larger than ninety-nine percent of the dragons at the gathering. No one in their right mind will challenge you once they see what you really are.”
I watch the rage slowly flicker in her eyes, then gradually die down to manageable levels as my words sink in. Her bone plates shift back to their normal position, and her features soften slightly.
“You’re right. I was getting mad over nothing,” she admits quietly, though I can still feel the tremor of suppressed violence running through her. She kisses me softly, her lips warm againstmine, then walks over and takes her seat at the table with deliberate calm.
But I notice her hands are still shaking slightly as she reaches for her water glass, and I exchange concerned glances with the others over her head.
Our mate is more worried about this gathering than she’s letting on, and we’re going to need to watch her carefully to make sure she doesn’t do something reckless to protect us.
Dinner is peaceful—surprisinglyso, given Raven’s earlier rage. The conversation flows naturally over perfectly seasoned ribs and crispy wings. Raven mentions raiding the treasury at Blackhaven for jewels for the Processional and Winter Formal, her sapphire eyes lighting up at the thought of the family heirlooms stored there.
Once Keir and Finlay clear the plates—the soft clink of dishes being stacked filling the comfortable silence—we move to Raven’s private chambers. She leads us to the fluffy circular lounger she prefers to nap on, positioned near her floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The cushions are deep and soft, covered in dark fabric that’s been worn smooth by use. Her room is considered neutral territory in the house, and she tends to stay calmer in here, surrounded by her books and personal treasures.
Corvus climbs up onto the lounger first and shakes the cloth bag containing our questions, the paper slips rustling inside like dry leaves. He offers it to Raven with both hands. She reaches in and swirls her hand around dramatically, her fingers searchingblind. With an exaggerated flourish that makes Keir chuckle, she pulls out the first note and unfolds it.
