I watch them walk off together—Thauglor on one side, Klauth on the other, Raven in the middle. Three of the most powerful dragons in existence, moving as one toward the edge of the field. Their silhouettes darken against the setting sun.
“Be prepared to move at a moment’s notice.” Corvus’s voice has gone flat, emotionless. The war drake is surfacing, pushing aside the softer male who smiled at babies and handed out finger foods. He looks down at his phone, pulls up a chat I don’t recognize—something for his troops, maybe—and sends a rapid message before pocketing the device.
“Thauglor and Klauth almost leveled the continent over a thousand years ago,” he says, his silver eyes tracking the retreating figures. “Because Klauth’s first clutch was murdered.”
The words hang in the air, heavy with implication.
“Their daughter has been abducted multiple times. Unsuccessfully, but still.” Corvus paces a few steps, then stops in front of us, his expression grim. “That daughter has more power than both ancients combined. Her acid is stronger than Thauglor’s.”
Solaris freezes mid-hum.
His amber eyes lift from Nova’s sleeping face, fixing on Corvus with sharp attention. “Did I hear ye correctly?” His brogue thickens with sudden intensity. “My mate’s acid is stronger than her father’s?”
“Yes,” Corvus meets his gaze steadily. “It’s been that way since before she hit wyrm status.”
Solaris takes a step back, his arms tightening around the baby in his arms. He looks down at Nova—at those small wings, those mismatched eyes, that impossible size—and I see the realization dawn across his face.
“My wee one will be the strongest dragoness to ever live.”
He holds her close to his chest, protective and fierce, then turns and takes off after Klauth and Thauglor. His long strides carry him across the field in seconds, his form diminishing as he catches up to the three dragons walking toward the horizon.
“What do you think is going to happen?” I look between Corvus and Finlay, searching their faces for answers.
Corvus glances over at Finlay, some silent communication passing between them. The phoenix’s ember-bright eyes flicker with something that might be anticipation or might be dread.
“We believe that Magnus and Amadeus have been in league with the mages from the beginning.” Corvus’s voice is carefully controlled.
“Historically, the mages have been allied with the drow and the manticores.” Finlay’s tone is flat, matter-of-fact. His eyes move from person to person, assessing, calculating. “An alliance thatspans centuries. An alliance built on the subjugation of other races.”
The implications settle over me like a cold weight.
“You think our mate is about to go to war.” I glance over at Corvus, then at Finlay, then at the distant figures silhouetted against the burning sky.
All emotion slips from Corvus’s face. The transformation is instantaneous—one moment he’s my bond brother, the next he’s the war drake who has planned a hundred battles. He slowly turns to look in the direction that Raven went with her fathers, his silver eyes reflecting the orange and red of the sunset.
“I believe she’s got the war half planned already.”
The words settle into my bones.
Corvus looks back at us, his expression unreadable. “Let’s enjoy tonight and hope that whatever sparked in Raven’s head doesn’t lead to the four of them wiping two continents off the face of the planet.”
He turns and heads toward the stairs leading down to the lower level, his footsteps steady and measured. His silver hair catches the last light of the dying sun before he vanishes from sight.
I glance at Finlay, at Keir who has drifted closer, at the other bondmates scattered across the field. The hatchlings are still playing in the grass, oblivious to the tension that has settled over the adults. Ruby chases Maur while Balterion tries to catch her tail. Nova sleeps in her father’s arms somewhere beyond the field, carried toward whatever destiny her mother is planning.
I draw in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the scent of summer grass and distant smoke.
Honestly, I’m shocked it took this long for it to happen.
Raven has been patient. More patient than anyone had a right to expect. She’s been abducted, threatened, hunted. She’s watched her family targeted again and again by enemies who see her bloodline as a threat to be eliminated.
But now she has a daughter.
Now she has something to protect that goes beyond herself, beyond her mates, beyond even her parents. And I have a feeling that whatever comes next will reshape this world in ways none of us can predict.
I look toward the horizon, where four figures stand silhouetted against the dying light, and I prepare myself for war.
