Chapter 17
Corvus
WatchingRaven fight is as stressful as it is mesmerizing. My heart pounds with each clash of steel, even though I know rationally she’s far more skilled than any of these challengers. Each quick, brutal defeat leads to a few smart surrenders—males taking one look at their fallen comrades and wisely choosing to bow out.
Of the twenty that were left after I finished, only twelve actually stepped into the ring with her. Out of those twelve, only five left under their own power—the rest needed to be carried out by healers, unconscious or too injured to walk.
“You did good,” Abraxis says as he approaches, offering me a drumstick still steaming from the fire. The smell of seasoned meat makes my stomach growl—I haven’t eaten since this morning.
“Thanks. All those extra hours sparring with you definitely helped.” I shake his hand firmly, feeling the calluses on his palm that match my own, and look back toward where Raven stands speaking with the three kings alongside Klauth. Even from here, I can see the tension in her shoulders beneath the battle leathers.
“She’s so much like her father,” Abraxis observes, and I’m genuinely not sure if it’s a compliment or concern in his voice.
I decide to jab back playfully. “Which one?” I arch a brow, staring at him with mock innocence.
“Thauglor,” he clarifies with a slight smile. “She’s cutthroat and doesn’t yield an inch in combat. But with her siblings, it’s like she transforms into a different person entirely—gentle, protective, playful.”
“Family versus strangers,” I shrug, understanding the distinction perfectly. Then I move to rejoin my mate and the assembled kings, my body aching from the twenty fights but functioning well enough.
“You put on quite the show, young man,” the Eastern King says as he extends his hand to shake. His grip is firm, testing my strength even now.
I take the offered hand and smile, keeping my grip equally strong. “Thanks. I’ve been training here at Sovereign since I was seven years old. All of my skill is because of the training I received here. Thauglor and Klauth spent the most time drilling ancient war tactics into my head for years.”
Raven immediately curls into my side like she belongs there, fitting perfectly against me, and kisses the sensitive spot under my chin. The gesture sends warmth spreading through my chest despite my exhaustion.
The Southern King smiles with calculated charm. “Are you sure you don’t want one more drake? My son is thirty and is a decorated warrior from our continental wars.” He tilts his head, and I can tell he’s just testing the waters to see if Raven will take the bait.
“I truly appreciate the offer.” Raven’s voice carries diplomatic warmth that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Respectfully, I must decline. I have two drakes in my nest, and that is quite enough for any female to manage.”
Hemlocke approaches from the side and helps Raven slip on Solaris’s egg carrier with practiced efficiency, the orange shell settling against her chest. “I possess the orange cursed egg. When Solaris hatches, he will be the lead drake.”
“You’re okay with that?” Magnus asks dismissively as he looks at his manicured nails, like the answer barely interests him.
“It was my idea,” I state firmly, and he looks up with obvious shock crossing his features. “Solaris is the elder drake, and it is his position by right of age and experience.” I kiss Raven’s temple tenderly, breathing in her scent of sea salt and jasmine mixed with the metallic tang of combat, and look over at Klauth and Thauglor. “If my mate’s fathers are any example of the quality of males from that time period, then we would be remiss not to let Solaris’s wisdom and experience to guide us.”
I state it as plainly as possible, meeting Magnus’s eyes directly. I figure if I’m going to blow his mind with how unconventional our nest is, I may as well do a thorough job of it.
“How about we go get you something to eat and enjoy the rest of the night,” Raven suggests, hitting a tone that makes it clear no one should argue with her suggestion. It’s not quite a command, but close enough.
“Sounds like a plan.” Raven takes my hand in hers, and I lead her toward the fire pit where Vaughn and Hemlocke are cooking. The scent of roasting meat and vegetables fills the air, making my mouth water.
“How did you do?” Vaughn asks as he piles a plate high with different meats—ribs, chicken, what looks like venison. The food smells incredible after hours of fighting.
“Twenty before Raven finished off the last twelve. Well, after eight of them wisely refused to fight her once they saw what she could do,” I explain with pride, smiling as I take the heavy plate. My hands shake slightly from exhaustion, but I manage.
“That’s our baby girl,” Vaughn says with paternal pride as he piles food on a plate for Raven with equal generosity. “Go eat with your family, Hemlocke. I’ll watch the pit.”
Hemlocke makes himself a plate and joins us as we walk over to a weathered wooden bench under the massive oak tree that dominates this part of the gathering grounds.
We join Keir, who’s already sitting there with his own food. “What’s next on the schedule?” he asks before taking a large bite of what looks like roasted boar.
“Nothing pressing until the dominance challenges,” Raven says before taking a bite of her food, chewing thoughtfully.
“You’re so calm about it,” Keir observes, passing her a water bottle, which she accepts gratefully.
Raven snuggles in close to me and sighs, the sound heavy with complex emotions. “I’m the largest female dragon on our continent. My fathers are the only Great Wyrm dragons alive.” I feel her wrap one of her wings around my shoulder protectively, the membrane warm against my skin. “Odds are I’ll shift, and they’ll either leave immediately or submit without fighting.”
She shakes her head and suddenly gets up, climbing onto Keir’s lap and throwing him completely off balance. He steadies herautomatically, his arms coming around her waist. “It’s going to be a colossal waste of time,” she says, and her voice betrays her exasperation over the whole political circus.
