“That’s so cool.” Raven reaches out and rests her hand on her daughter, her fingers tracing the edge of those small wings. “My baby is definitely unique.”
Pride radiates through our bond, fierce and warm.
Corvus walks over with a plate of finger foods balanced on one hand, his silver eyes soft with something that looks almost like tenderness on his usually guarded face. He offers the platter to Raven with a small smile.
“You should eat. The little one is going to keep us up at night, and we all need our strength.”
Raven takes the platter gratefully, her fingers already reaching for a small sandwich. She’s barely eaten since before the hatching—I realize that now, watching her devour the food with single-minded focus.
“I can watch the baby while you’re in school,” Mina offers, her fingers running gently through Nova’s dark hair. The baby is awake now, those mismatched eyes tracking the movement around her with surprising alertness. “Unless Solaris wants to do that?”
The question hangs in the air. We all know the answer.
Raven nods, then looks over at me and smiles—a knowing, slightly teasing smile. “We’re going to cycle through who’s on baby duty.”
A soft laugh escapes her lips as she takes Nova back from Klauth and passes her to Solaris. The big male practically swoons as his daughter settles against his chest again, his amber eyes going soft and unfocused with pure adoration.
“I’m pretty sure her da won’t be letting go of her anytime soon.”
“‘Tis true.” Solaris’s voice is rough, thick with emotion he’s not even trying to hide. He moves to a large flat rock nearby and settles down, cradling Nova against his chest, humming a soft melody I don’t recognize. Something ancient. Somethingfrom his homeland, perhaps. A lullaby passed down through centuries.
Charron and Isolde walk over, arm in arm, and smile at the scene before them. Solaris, the ancient dragon warrior, reduced to a humming, cooing father on a rock in the sunshine.
“Reminds me of how Thauglor was with Raven.” Isolde’s voice is warm with remembered fondness.
Raven laughs softly, leaning against me as we watch Solaris. The exhaustion is catching up with her—I can feel it through our bond, a bone-deep weariness that’s been temporarily held at bay by adrenaline and joy.
“Yeah, Dad and I were inseparable.” She rests her head on my chest and yawns, then reaches for another finger sandwich from the tray. She eats it in two bites.
“Inseparable?” Isolde raises an eyebrow, looking at Raven with fond exasperation. “That’s an understatement, Raven. Thauglor had you like ninety-eight percent of the time.”
“You’re a fine one to talk,” Raven lets out a soft purr and another yawn between bites of food. “Leander had you one hundred percent of the time.”
“Isolde is right.” Corvus chimes in with a low laugh, his silver eyes dancing with amusement. “If I wanted to find you, I’d look for your dad.” He hands me a drink—something cool and sweet-smelling—and I take it gratefully. “On the rare occasions he didn’t have you, it was you, Orpheus, and Lily together off by yourselves.”
Raven doesn’t argue. She just purrs softly and takes another sandwich, her eyes drifting toward Solaris and Nova. The bondbetween them is already visible—father and daughter, connected in ways that transcend words.
Finlay approaches after stopping by Solaris to look at Nova. His ember-bright eyes have dimmed somewhat, the flames within them banked and controlled. His expression is thoughtful. Serious.
“Not to bring down the celebration.” His voice is quiet, meant only for those of us gathered close. “But what are we going to do about Amadeus and what he did?”
The question lands like a stone dropped into still water. The easy joy of the moment ripples, distorting.
“He’s right.” I press my lips to Raven’s forehead, feeling her stiffen slightly in my arms. “It can’t go unanswered.”
Raven’s eyes begin to glow.
The sapphire blue brightens, intensifies, taking on an inner luminescence that has nothing to do with the afternoon sun. She looks toward Thauglor, her gaze locking onto her father with an intensity that raises the hair on the back of my neck. His eyes glow as well. The same brilliant sapphire, the same otherworldly light.
There’s a stillness between them that I can’t understand. A silence that feels louder than words. The surrounding air seems to thicken, to hum with some frequency I can’t perceive.
“Shit.” Corvus’s voice is sharp with sudden alarm. “She’s talking to Thauglor.”
“How is that possible?” I look at my bond brother, then back down at my mate, then at her father. Their glowing eyes arefixed on each other, their bodies motionless, their expressions identical masks of concentration.
“Apparently it’s a wyrm gift.” Finlay adjusts his tie, his movements precise and controlled despite the tension in the air. “The ability to speak mind-to-mind with those in one’s bloodline. The oldest lines possess it.”
I can feel the shift in the air when Raven pulls away from me. The warmth of her body disappears from my side, leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. She closes the distance between herself and the ancients, her stride purposeful, her wings held high.
