Chapter 20
Raven
With the dadsneeding to stay close to home because of the freshly laid eggs—vulnerable and requiring constant protection—my mates and I have stepped up and taken over some of their diplomatic duties. Today, Corvus and I are flying to the Western Continent to meet with its king. It’s a significant responsibility, and I can feel the weight of it settling on my shoulders like my diadem—heavier than the actual silver and jewels, weighted with centuries of political tension and the potential for disaster.
Amadeus is an orange dragon like Solaris, and I believe he’s actually a descendant of his, though several dozen generations removed. The thought of Solaris meeting his distant offspring amuses me. I can almost hear his Scottish-accented commentary about how bloodlines have weakened over time.
Lily had mentioned at the last family dinner that she was open to meeting some of the males from the Western Continent, so that’s a topic for today’s discussion. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet when she said it, picking at her food and avoiding eye contact with Abraxis, who’d immediately started listing reasons it was a terrible idea.
Corvus rumbles beside me as we prepare for takeoff from Blackhaven’s highest launch point, his anxiety about what’s about to happen bleeding through our bond like cold water trickling down my spine. Both of my dads filled me in on centuries of accumulated knowledge about the different continents and their complex political dynamics before we left—a crash course delivered over tea and pastries that lasted six hours and left my head spinning.
I spend the first hour of flight filling Corvus in on the most critical details: the brief history of the Western Continent and what happened there back in my fathers’ time—old grudges over territory disputes, broken treaties regarding trade routes, blood feuds that still simmer beneath diplomatic pleasantries like coals waiting to reignite.
As we cross the vast expanse of ocean, the water stretching endlessly in all directions like liquid sapphire; I dive suddenly and snatch up a large porpoise that never saw me coming. The warm blood and fresh meat give me energy for the long journey ahead; the taste of salt and fish familiar and satisfying. Corvus does the same after watching me, his silver form cutting through the waves with precision, clearly realizing the flight is much longer than he was initially expecting. We’re talking eight to ten hours of continuous flight at high speed.
Several hours pass in relative silence, the monotony broken only by the endless blue below and occasional clouds that we weave through. The sun beats down on my scales, warming them pleasantly. Then a storm squall rolls in from nowhere—dark clouds boiling up from the horizon like smoke, vicious winds that almost throw us off course entirely. The rain lashes at my scales like tiny knives, each drop stinging, and visibility dropsto almost nothing. Lightning cracks across the sky, close enough that I can smell ozone.
Corvus, about halfway through the worst of the storm, ends up landing on my back with visible relief and shifting to his human form. The sudden reduction in wind resistance helps both of us. I forgot he has to fight twice as hard to keep up with me. His drake form is about a third of the size of my dragoness and has to work much harder to fight the harsh winds out here over open ocean where there’s nothing to break the gusts. The guilt gnaws at me for not considering this earlier, for not offering to carry him sooner.
Through our bond, I feel his muscles trembling with exhaustion, his lungs burning from the exertion. “Rest,”I call back to him mentally.“We still have hours to go.”
The minute I see the shoreline finally come into view—a dark line on the horizon that gradually resolves into rocky cliffs and narrow beaches—I roar as loud as I can. The sound carries for miles across the water, announcing our arrival with authority and proper protocol.The heir apparent of the Aurelian Isles approaches. Prepare yourselves.
Corvus leaps off my back with practiced ease and shifts mid-air, his silver drake exploding into existence with a flash of metallic scales. He roars as soon as he gains altitude, his voice joining mine in formal greeting—a duet that speaks of unity and strength.
Several answering roars echo from the mainland—I count at least seven distinct voices, maybe more. I follow the sound with focused intent, my sharp eyes picking out individual dragons launching from various points around the fortress. The fortress itself sits in a valley surrounded by jagged mountains that looklike dragon teeth against the darkening sky. It’s an impressive defensive position, I note professionally.
I circle high above while Corvus descends, giving him time to land first and warn them I’m coming. This is proper protocol—the smaller dragon lands first, announces the larger one, gives everyone time to clear the landing zone. It prevents accidents and shows respect.
He gets everyone cleared out of the courtyard with urgent gestures, barely giving me enough room to land without crushing anyone or damaging the ornate stonework. When my massive form touches down with controlled precision, the ground trembles beneath my weight like a minor earthquake. Several smaller dragons stumble. I remain standing tall, neck extended to full height, looking down at the assembled dragons and human courtiers below. All I smell is fear—sharp and acrid like copper and sweat—and it pleases my dragoness immensely.Good. They should fear us.
I shift back to human form with deliberate slowness, letting them watch every moment of the transformation. Bones crack and reform. Scales recede into skin. My massive bulk compresses into something human-sized but no less dangerous. I adjust my elegant gown—deep black silk with silver threading that catches the light, cut to accommodate my wings—before pulling my diadem out of the hidden pocket in my dress. The metal is cool against my fingers as I rest it carefully on my head, settling it just so. I flex my wings once in a show of power, the span impressive even folded, before looking directly at the king and queen of the Western Continent.
King Amadeus is tall for an orange dragon in human form, with copper-colored hair and those distinctive amber eyes. His queenstands beside him—a smaller orange dragon with kind eyes that don’t match the tension in her shoulders.
“King and Queen Ragnar send their well wishes and gratitude for this opportunity,” I say with perfect diplomatic courtesy, exactly as Mom coached me. I curtsy slightly—just enough to be polite without showing true submission—and take my mate’s offered arm. Corvus stands straight and tall beside me, every inch the proper consort.
“You’ve flown a long way, Princess. Do you need to freshen up or rest first?” King Amadeus offers with a gracious smile that doesn’t quite reach his amber eyes. There’s calculation there, assessment, the look of someone trying to determine leverage.
“Maybe something to eat would be good, if it’s not too much trouble,” I say with practiced humility, playing the role of grateful guest rather than potential threat. I smile and lower my head slightly as I hold on to Corvus’s arm for support, deliberately making myself appear more delicate than I am. We follow Amadeus inside through ornate hallways decorated with tapestries depicting orange dragons in flight, elaborate murals showing historical battles, and suits of armor that look purely decorative.
We take seats at a long table in what looks like a formal meeting room—all dark wood and a serious atmosphere. The space is grand, but somehow feels cold despite the elaborate decorations and the fire burning in the massive hearth. Something about this place sets my teeth on edge.
“I was expecting King Ragnar,” Amadeus says as he sits at the far end of the table across from me, putting maximum distance between us. An insult or a safety measure? Both, probably.
“Family matters needed attending to,” I explain simply, not elaborating. The eggs are none of his business. I look around the interior of the room with deliberate casualness—noting exits, windows, the positions of guards, potential threats—then back to him. “Your continent is beautiful, and it appears you have a large, thriving flight.” Compliments are always a good icebreaker with royalty, Mom taught me. Appeal to their pride first.
“We have thirty families in our flight with four hatchlings and several eggs waiting to hatch,” he says with obvious pride, sitting straighter as he raises his wine glass and takes a measured sip. “How is Blackhaven faring since you took over leadership?”
There’s an edge to the question—curiosity mixed with something darker. Competition, maybe. Or concern that I’m growing too powerful too quickly.
“Growing steadily. I have dragons and other species living peacefully in my territory. Nine hatchlings and I believe five clutches of eggs at the moment,” I say carefully. I pause as servants place food before me—the aroma is incredible, making my mouth water after the long flight. Roasted meat, fresh bread, vegetables in some kind of butter sauce. “I’m moving the wintering war horses to my upper fields to graze on the grass there, helping the army out with feed costs and keeping the fields properly grazed.”
I deliberately don’t tell him that my flight actually has more families than his entire continent. He would lose his mind if he knew the true extent of Blackhaven’s growth—we’re approaching sixty families now, with more requesting to join every week.
“Any hatchlings of your own? You have a male of obvious worth at your side. The hatchlings the two of you will produce will bemighty indeed.” There’s a calculating gleam in his amber eyes that I was expecting. He’s looking to strengthen his bloodline using mine—typical political maneuvering. Marry off a son or brother to secure powerful offspring.
“Not as of yet. I wish to be older and more established before I start a family,” I say with a practiced smile, taking a bite of the steak before me. The flavor bursts on my tongue—perfectly seasoned and cooked medium-rare, exactly how I prefer it—and I sigh with genuine appreciation. “My sister Lily was interested in meeting some of those fine males you spoke of at the gathering.”
