Chapter 3
Raven
The long,flowing obsidian gown hugs my curves like a second skin; the fabric cool and smooth as water against my scales. The majority of my black scales are visible through the dress’s strategic design—a deliberate choice to show my dragonic heritage with pride rather than hiding it. The thin straps hold the gown in place, leaving the back wide open so my wings and the intricate scale patterns running down my spine can be seen clearly.
As I stand before the full-length mirror in my dressing chamber, I look myself over critically while touching up my eyeliner with steady hands and applying blood-red lipstick that makes my scales seem even darker. We will meet with the King of the North—Magnus, a name that carries weight and whispered warnings. He is coming to meet with Klauth and me specifically. As the heir apparent, I need to be present at this meeting to show strength and capability.
Klauth and I trained intensively over the summer to get me to mask my true power—to appear formidable without revealing just how dangerous I actually am. The sessions were grueling butnecessary. ‘You cannot trust this so-called king. Females have ruled for generations. We are bigger and stronger than they are. Ask where his female is,’my dragoness supplies helpfully, her suspicion bleeding into my thoughts.
“Interesting. I’ll use that if need be. I have a feeling his female is collared,” I murmur to my reflection. A deep, rumbling growl escapes my lips unbidden, and I see my bone plates shift slightly under my skin—the white showing through for just a moment. The very idea of being collared like an animal makes both my dragoness and me violently angry.
“Raven?” Corvus’s voice catches my attention, pulling me from my dark thoughts. I step to the right to look over my shoulder using the mirror, catching his reflection.
“Hey...” I smile at him with genuine warmth and start applying pale blue eyeshadow to my eyelids—a color that will make my sapphire eyes appear even more vivid.
“I brought your diadem. Klauth says the King has landed, and he needs you sooner than later.” Corvus comes up behind me, his familiar scent of fresh-baked bread soothes me, and carefully rests the diadem on my head. The weight of it settles against my skull—heavy with symbolism more than actual mass.
I draw in a deep breath, looking at the delicate silver piece sitting there among my black hair. The gems embedded in it catch the light and throw rainbow reflections across the mirror.
“Everything changes today,” I say quietly, turning to face my mate. I adjust his tie with careful fingers, then smooth down his jacket, making sure he looks as perfect as I need to appear. Gently, I rest my hand on Corvus’s muscular arm as we leave my dressing room together.
My heels click sharply on the polished marble floor as we move through the bottom level of the Sovereign nest. The sound echoes off the high ceilings, announcing our approach. We pass Keir and Hemlocke stationed near one of the side corridors, and I offer them small smiles—drawing strength from their presence—as we continue on our way.
The large double doors to the meeting chamber stand before us like sentinels. The ornate carvings of dragons locked in eternal battle wage war across the solid oak doors; their forms so detailed that I can see individual scales carved into the wood. Corvus steps forward and knocks three times with measured force, waiting for the guard to open from within.
When the doors swing open with barely a whisper despite their massive size, I step forward and assume the position my father taught me: wings held high and slightly open, creating an impressive silhouette. The cold resting bitch face I practiced with Klauth for hours slides into place like a mask.
“Announcing Her Royal Highness Princess Raven Mrithun, ascended child of King Klauth Ragnar, heir apparent of the Marzana Empire.” The guard’s voice booms through the chamber, formal and carrying weight.
Drawing in a deep breath that fills my lungs completely, I take my first steps into the room. I keep my head held high and my steps slow and steady—measured, purposeful, regal. In my head, I hum the tune Klauth taught me to keep the cadence of the walk I need to maintain. Everything rides on my ability to project the air of the perfect princess—a female deserving to inherit the throne when the time comes.
A man I’ve never seen before sits to the left of Klauth’s throne, and I catalog every detail instantly. His hair is an unusual shadeof green I’ve never encountered—like moss mixed with emerald, clearly marking his dragon lineage.
‘He’s a green dragon. They have soft scales—easily defeated and eaten,’my dragoness observes with predatory satisfaction. I almost allow myself to smile at that assessment but maintain my composure.
When I reach Klauth’s side, I execute a perfect formal bow—lowering myself gracefully and spreading my wings as wide as they can go, displaying their full span while remaining positioned lower than him. The gesture shows proper respect and acknowledgment of his authority.
“Rise, precious one. Sit,” Klauth motions to the ornate chair positioned to his right—the heir’s seat.
I straighten with fluid grace and take my position, arranging my wings carefully so they drape elegantly rather than awkwardly.
“Such a beautiful female,” Magnus says, his voice carrying an oily quality that makes my skin crawl. “I see she already has a male.” His eyes rake over me in assessment. “Would you be interested in an arranged marriage to strengthen our alliance?” Magnus looks at Klauth as he says this, and then Klauth’s crimson-flecked amber eyes turn to me—giving me the floor.
I look up and see Corvus standing just inside the doors, watching the entire exchange with carefully controlled fury tightening his jaw. “Perhaps I’ll consider it if your candidate can survive both gauntlets and then defeats me in single combat in the ring at Shadowcarve.” I smile sweetly at Magnus, all teeth, and no warmth.
“A female warrior? Unheard of.” He dismisses me with a wave of his hand, turning his attention back to Klauth as if I’ve ceasedto exist. “A marriage would cement our alliance nicely.” His eyes move over me again in a way that makes my skin crawl—assessing me like livestock, like property to be traded.
“We are here today because one of your citizens wishes to become a resident of my continent,” Klauth says firmly, his voice carrying an edge of warning. “Not to arrange a political marriage for an already mated female.”
“Where is your Queen?” Magnus asks with casual rudeness, clearly trying to needle Klauth.
“My mate is visiting the flights to see how many hatchlings have been born in the last year, Magnus.” Klauth’s tone is deliberately bored, making it clear how little he cares about Magnus’s opinion.
Sharp knocks echo through the room, and the guard opens the door with military precision. Finlay Boaz stands in the doorway wearing one of his impeccably tailored gray suits—exactly like I remember from seeing him around campus occasionally.
When his honey-colored eyes find mine across the room, we stare at each other for several long moments. There’s something in his gaze I can’t quite identify—intensity, perhaps, or careful assessment. Finally, he breaks eye contact and starts walking toward us with measured steps.
He stops at the bottom of the long conference table where we’re sitting, his posture perfect and professional. “I wish to petition to remain here on the Aurelian Isle. I wish to become a citizen of the Marzana Empire.” His voice is calm and steady, betraying nothing.
