Chapter 16
Raven
Last night’sWinter Formal went well—better than expected, actually. Lily showed interest in one male, a promising development that has Mom practically vibrating with excitement. Now I stand before the full-length mirror in my room at Blackhaven, checking to make sure my new leathers are lying correctly across my body. The black material is supple but tough, molded specifically to accommodate my wings and scale patterns.
Balor had armor made for my wing bones this time—reinforced plates that protect the main shaft without restricting movement. The metal gleams dully in the morning light, practical rather than decorative. Keir’s careful fingers make final adjustments to the straps crisscrossing my back, ensuring all the panels are secure and won’t shift during combat.
Between last night and this morning, I’ve had all of my mates in my bed at some point—seeking comfort, offering reassurance, stealing moments of intimacy before the chaos begins. They’re scared, though none of them will admit it outright. They know dozens of flights are going to be present today. The other threecontinents are sending representatives this time, which has never happened before in living memory.
“Are you sure showing up in battle leathers is the way to go?” Finlay asks as he steps into my room, his honey eyes concerned. He’s dressed impeccably in formal attire—clearly expecting a diplomatic event rather than potential warfare.
“Yes. I am no dainty princess.” My voice carries steel beneath the words. “I am a Shadowblade like my mother before me. When I became dominant dragoness, Mom had Dad share with me all of her training—every technique, every strategy, every killing blow. I have all of her skills.”
I turn to face Finlay and Keir, meeting their eyes with absolute certainty. “I know Magnus is going to try something today. I can feel it.”
No sooner do the words leave my mouth than Hemlocke and Corvus enter my space, their footsteps heavy with purpose. Corvus gives me a nod—seeing my battle leathers and understanding my reasoning—and I smile with grim satisfaction.
“I have something I wish to gift each of you.” My voice softens as I step before Hemlocke and begin unbuttoning his shirt with steady fingers, exposing his chest. “I wish to gift you one of my scales. It will strengthen your shift and our bond.” I stare up into his magenta eyes, searching for hesitation. He nods immediately, no doubt in his expression.
“Yes, please. I accept.” He kisses my forehead tenderly and holds his shirt open, baring his chest over his heart.
I shift my left hand, feeling my obsidian scales ripple up my arm and my silver talons extend with soft clicks. I carefully plucka scale near my thumb—the pain sharp and immediate—and implant it directly over his heart. I sink my talon into his chest to create a pocket, then press the meat side of the scale into the wound.
The influx of power that floods through our bond makes Hemlocke stagger backward, his eyes going wide. Corvus immediately moves to steady him, hands on his shoulders. Smiling, I lean forward and lick the blood from his chest with gentle strokes, my saliva healing the wound and sealing the scale permanently into his skin.
“Wow. I feel like my blood is made of fire,” Hemlocke breathes, staring down at the black scale now living on his chest. It pulses faintly in time with his heartbeat.
I laugh a little as I turn to face Keir, and he already has his henley pulled off over his head, grinning like a child on his birthday. “I’m ready, my love. Stab me.” He laughs with infectious enthusiasm, and I swear if he was shifted right now, he’d be wagging his tail like a madman.
Carefully, I pluck another scale from a different place on my hand—spreading the impact—and implant it over his heart with the same process. His knees buckle immediately, and both Corvus and Finlay catch him before he can fall.
“Holy shit! Is this how you feel all the time? I feel like a god!” Keir says with a breathless laugh, his stormy gray eyes practically glowing with newfound power.
“You must remember, she comes from powerful ancient bloodlines,” Finlay says softly, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s studied lineages for centuries. He moves closerto me, his expression shifting to something more vulnerable. “I have something I can gift you, my eternal.”
His flame-colored hair begins to shift and change before my eyes. Feathers grow along the edge of his hairline—brilliant orange and red plumage that seems to glow from within. He carefully plucks a single feather, the barb wickedly sharp, and gently spins me so my back is to him.
With infinite care, he lifts my long black hair away from my neck and pushes the sharp barb at the end of the feather into my hairline, just above where my scales begin. The feather sinks into my skin and roots there.
Heat—incredible, overwhelming heat—floods my body like liquid fire being poured directly into my veins. I have to close my eyes against the surge of raw power, my breath coming in gasps as my body adjusts to the gift. It takes several long minutes to get my breathing under control; my heart racing and skin flushed.
When I finally open my eyes, Finlay pulls my long black hair forward to show me. There, in the sea of obsidian strands, is a single flame-colored feather as long as my hair—vibrant orange and red and gold, moving slightly as if touched by an invisible breeze.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, tears pricking at my eyes.
“It should give you immunity to fire,” Finlay says quietly, and I pause, truly understanding what he’s just given me. He gave me the one immunity I don’t naturally have as a black dragon—protection from the element most likely to harm me in battle.
My bottom lip quivers as I stare at his reflection, at the feather now permanently part of me, and I nod, trying desperately not tocry and ruin the moment. I shift my hand again and pluck one of my scales, offering it to him with trembling fingers.
“May I gift you my scale?” My voice cracks with emotion.
He smiles—that devastating smile that makes my heart stutter—and opens his shirt without hesitation. I gently prick his skin with my talon, creating the pocket, before implanting the scale with reverent care. I watch closely as the surrounding skin mends and knits, incorporating my scale into his body. The edges of my black scale take on an almost orange tint, blending with his phoenix nature in a way I’ve never seen before.
“We need to get going.” I glance at the clock on the wall, noting we’re running late, and hand Keir my backpack packed with my change of clothes for the evening festivities. He also has my diadem carefully wrapped and Solaris’s carrier strapped securely to his chest—the orange egg pulsing gently against his sternum.
Hemlocke has all of my weapons that aren’t spelled to shift with me—the blades and throwing knives I’ll need if things go south. I lead my family out of our private quarters and up into the lower courtyard, our footsteps echoing off ancient stone.
Dozens of dragons from my flight are already assembled, waiting to journey back to the flight of my birth. Their scales catch the morning light—greens and blues and silvers creating a rainbow of color. “I will not fit down here,” I observe, noting the crowded space. “Corvus, launch from here. I’ll head to the upper field and carry my mates.”
