“Should we rearrange date nights?” she reads aloud, her voice carrying curiosity.
“Maybe we should put numbers on slips of paper and drop them in the bag so it’s luck of the draw,” I suggest, looking at my bond mates. “Have the new order start up after the two designated family days we planned.”
“Sounds good to me,” Raven says, looking to the others for confirmation. Finlay and Corvus nod their agreement, Corvus already pulling out his phone to make a note.
Raven digs into the bag again, her slender fingers fishing around before pulling out another folded slip. “Are you worried that rejecting the males brought by the King of the North will start a war?” She reads the question and pauses, her expression going distant. “He’s been protecting mages and drow for ages. War is inevitable.”
The coldness in her voice makes me lean back, shocked by the casual certainty with which she says it. This isn’t my playful mate—this is the heir apparent speaking.
“My dads and I talked about it today,” she continues, her tone matter-of-fact. “In theory, as the dominant dragoness, I should be able to drive off the invading forces.” She smirks, and there’s something predatory in the expression. “Females are larger to begin with. Unless their army is filled with wyrm females, it’s no real threat.”
Raven sighs, the sound heavy with responsibility beyond her years, and out of nowhere, Xero materializes in mid-air. Thelittle tressym appears with Solaris’s carrier gripped in her claws, her bat wings beating rapidly to support the weight.
“I guess we know what gift Xero has,” I mention, looking into the blood-red eyes of a very smug-looking tressym. Teleportation or dimensional travel of some kind—incredibly rare and valuable.
You saw nothing, dark one,Xero’s voice echoes directly in my head, carrying feline superiority and a hint of threat.
Raven takes Solaris carefully out of the carrier, the orange egg warm and pulsing in her hands, and places him in her lap before grabbing the next note. “When will Solaris hatch?” She stares down at the egg with obvious longing, then looks over at Finlay expectantly.
“It’s very hard to tell,” Finlay says, his honey eyes fixed on the pulsing egg with unusual intensity. “If Raven is in mortal danger, he can hatch early to protect her. Most times it’s two years in his mate’s presence. Or longer, depending on the specific curse placed on him.” Finlay seems to starethroughthe egg rather than at it, his phoenix sight clearly seeing something we can’t.
“What do you see?” I ask, leaning forward. The way Finlay is staring at the egg makes me certain his phoenix perceives something beyond our normal senses.
“The magic holding Solaris is unique. It’s linked to a celestial event.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket with quick movements and searches for something specific. After a moment, he holds out an image of the Dragon constellation positioned over a blood moon—the celestial bodies aligned in perfect harmony.
Raven takes the phone from him with trembling fingers and stares at the image intently. Suddenly she slides off the lounger with enough force to make it rock and runs over to her celestial map mounted on the far wall. We follow her curiously as she runs her finger around the circle, tracing planetary movements and lunar cycles.
“It’s the Great Worm Moon in March... Well, Wyrm Moon,” she corrects herself with a small laugh. “It’s a blood moon and a total lunar eclipse on March third...” Raven looks back at Solaris’s egg with wonder and certainty in her eyes.
I pick him up carefully, using the carrier to scoop the egg up, and bring him over to her. She immediately pulls him back out of the protective leather and hugs him to her chest like a child with a beloved toy. “You’ll be free March third,” she whispers against the warm shell.
His egg pulses and vibrates vigorously in her arms—the most animated response I’ve ever seen from him.
“He’s very excited,” Finlay observes, watching Raven and the egg with a soft smile.
“You can hear him? Like, actually hear what he’s saying?” I look between Finlay and Raven with amazement. I thought only Raven could communicate with her cursed egg.
“Yes. He wants to ask questions at the meeting too,” Finlay says as Raven gently slides Solaris back into his carrier for safety.
We head back to the lounger and resume our positions, settling into the comfortable cushions. “Okay, Solaris, everyone is ready,” I announce, not entirely sure how loud I need to speak for a dragon trapped in an egg to hear me. The egg pulses andvibrates several times in quick succession, then falls silent—almost like he’s gathering his thoughts.
“He’s been listening to everything that has been happening,” Finlay translates, his voice taking on the cadence of someone relaying another’s words. “He’s happy the dominance challenges are happening. He wants to know how everyone feels about having an ancient drake joining the nest in the new year.”
Finlay looks at the egg, then up at each of us expectantly.
“I’m not gonna lie,” Corvus starts, then laughs to himself with self-deprecating humor. “I kind of can’t wait. Being the lead drake is hard work, and being so young, I’m not always taken seriously by older dragons.” He pauses, running a hand through his white hair. “If having Solaris as lead drake keeps the family and future hatchlings safe, I am all for it. The ego hit is worth the security.”
“Dragons have a hierarchy like blink hounds do. It’s maintained through power and bloodline,” Keir says, then hesitates, tilting his head thoughtfully. “How big are orange dragons, typically?”
“They come from the southern continent and are about the same size as a red or black dragon, with a temperament similar to a red or green—proud and territorial,” Finlay explains before Solaris vibrates insistently. “He says what they lack in size. They make up for in firepower. Orange dragons have the hottest flames of any species.”
“As a black unicorn, we are raised to fear dragons,” I admit with a smile at Raven, feeling her hand find mine and squeeze. “Imagine my surprise when I found out I was mated to a black dragoness.” Everyone chuckles at that, the sound warm andfamiliar. “As long as everyone is treated fairly and the family is safe, that is all that matters to me.”
Finlay shakes his head and rolls his eyes with good-natured exasperation. “I won’t be the oldest in the nest anymore, so there’s that small mercy. But like the others have said, as long as Raven and future progeny are protected and everyone is treated fairly, it’s all that matters to me.”
Solaris vibrates again, the motion making the carrier rock slightly in Raven’s lap.
“It’s December twelfth,” Raven answers his unspoken question. “My birthday is on Thursday of next week. The dominance battles are Wednesday, and tomorrow is Friday—the Processional before the Choosing for unmated dragonesses.”
