Page 18 of Trial of the Cursed Egg

My breathing slows, the storm in my head receding. The arms holding me release, gently lowering me to the ground. I feel the world tilt, the blood dripping from my hands now human once more. I blink down at them, trembling.

Balor steps forward, his face a mixture of relief and regret. “Sorry we weren’t faster.”

I nod, barely hearing him. My eyes are glued to the blood staining my skin. “I... I killed him,” I whisper, my voice small and hollow. The weight of it crashes over me. I’ve never killed anyone before. Dad has put me through kill scenarios before. Hurt them, broken them, yes. But this? This is different. Something inside me shatters.

The blood, warm and sticky, clings to my skin, and I can’t stop staring.

Abraxis

“Yes,you did, and you’re alive because of it,” I say, my voice steady, though my chest tightens as I watch her. Her hands tremble, her fingers splayed like they don’t belong to her anymore. The way she stares at them, unblinking, tells me everything I need to know. She’s in shock.

“Zig, get my sister and tell her to bring clean clothes. Balor, grab her backpack.”

I don’t wait for them to move before I scoop her up in my arms, the weight of her body pressing against my chest. Protocol can go to hell right now. In two weeks, I’ll reveal myself as her mate and her betrothed. She won’t have to wait until her fourth year like the others. My claim as her mate outranks any betrothal, as long as no bites have been exchanged between her and anyone else. A vicious protectiveness rises in me, pushing away the nagging reminder of the centuries-old war between our species. It doesn’t matter. Not now. Not with her in myarms, so pale, so broken.

I carry her into the room, the scent of her fear lingering like a heavy fog around us. Gently, I lower her onto the couch, where Balor’s already laid down a blanket to keep the material clean. The blanket feels unnecessary, trivial compared to the storm raging inside her. Balor slips away to start the shower for her. Steam clouds the edges of the mirror, though the warmth doesn’t reach her cold, distant stare.

“What do you need me to do?” Callan’s voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. He kneels beside her, looking up into those hollow eyes, eyes that once shone with so much life.

“Stay with her.” The words come out harder than I intend. My focus shifts to the desk. I grab a pen, my hand moving swiftly as I scroll a quick message to Lysander. The ink smudges slightly under my fingers, but I don’t care. There’s no time for neatness. With a sharp, high-pitched whistle, I summon my familiar, Rebel. The massive bird swoops down from the rafters, his eyes glinting with intelligence.

“Take this to the headmaster immediately.”

Rebel clutches the note in his talons, giving me a sharp nod before taking off, wings beating fast and hard. If it weren’t for him, watching over Mina like he always does, we never would have known about the attack. The thought tightens my grip on the edge of the desk, my knuckles turning white. The air feels charged, thick with unspoken dread, as I wait for the next move. For something—anything—to break the silence that’s swallowing us whole.

Several minutes pass, and I realize I’m sitting on the couch with an arm wrapped around Mina, holding her close. How long have we been like this? I blink, trying to piece together when I got here. My eyes drift down to her bloodstained hands, still trembling in her lap. She’s staring at them like they hold all the answers to her torment. I can’t stand seeing her like this. Slowly, I place one of my hands overhers, hoping to break through whatever dark thoughts are swirling in her mind.

She draws in a deep breath, her chest rising against my side, and finally looks up at me. Her eyes, filled with an ocean of emotion, search mine—desperation, fear, something else I can’t quite place. Her lips part as if she’s about to speak, but the words never come. Instead, her body shifts slightly, inching toward me. There’s a flicker of intent in her eyes, her gaze still locked on mine. Is she … about to kiss me?

My heart pounds, anticipation curling in my chest. Her breath brushes against my skin, so close now. But before her lips can meet mine?—

“Mina!” My sister’s voice slices through the air like a whip, shattering the fragile moment between us.

Mina jerks back as though she’s been shocked, a growl rumbling low in her throat. The dragon in her stirs, and I watch as the familiar slits in her eyes form, eclipsing the softness of her human gaze. Her head snaps toward Cora, the anger in her rising like a tidal wave.

Cora steps back, eyes wide in surprise, her mouth parting slightly. It’s enough to snap Mina out of whatever trance she had fallen into.

“Cora...” Mina stands abruptly, but her legs wobble beneath her, and I’m quick to place a steady hand on her lower back, feeling the tension coil beneath her skin.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Cora says, her voice softer now, guilt written all over her face. “You can tell me what happened.” She wraps an arm around Mina’s waist, pulling her gently away from me, but not before mouthing a quick, sorry in my direction.

I nod, but the frustration gnaws at me. So close?—

Between the crying and screaming in the bathroom, my nerves are shot. Each shrill sob that echoes through the barracks grates against my patience, like nails dragging down my spine. I’m standing, fists clenched, ready to storm the door for the fourth time, when Mina’s soul-crushing wail hits me again. My drake surges beneath my skin, snarling, demanding action. Before I can take a single step, Lysander strides into the room, his gaze sharp and focused.

“Who killed Devax?” His eyes lock onto mine, cold and searching. His posture stiffens as Mina cries out again, and I jerk my thumb over my shoulder, more irritated than I should be.

“She defended herself from an assassination attempt ordered by Arista.” My voice comes out flat, bored. I’ve grown tired of this—this constant cycle of near misses and emotional chaos. Mina’s screams are clawing at the edges of my sanity, but Lysander doesn’t flinch.

He glances toward the open door, taking in the bloody carnage outside, then shifts his attention to the now-silent bathroom door. “An unshifted female destroyed an ambush drake?” His mouth falls open, disbelief painted across his features.

I nod, unbothered. “Yeah, her dragon’s near the surface. I can only hope Abaddon’s got her birthdate right, or we’ll have an angry dragoness on our hands sooner than expected.” I strip the bloodstained blanket off the couch and toss it in the corner. The stench of iron hangs heavy in the air, mingling with my frustration.

Lysander’s brow arches, his eyes calculating. “For everyone’s safety, I scheduled the dance on her birthday. Abaddon mentioned how females of his species get when they sense their mates before theycan shift.” There’s a knowing glint in his eyes—he knows exactly what I’ve been doing. Strengthening the bond, keeping her dragoness calm without her realizing it. My drake paces inside me, steady but restless. The bond is the only thing keeping him from losing control.

Just then, the bathroom door creaks open, and Cora steps out with Mina clinging to her side. Relief washes through me—Mina’s color has improved. Her cheeks aren’t as pale, and there’s a steadiness in her steps.

“Oh, headmaster,” Mina whispers, stopping dead in her tracks when she spots Lysander. Her wide eyes dart between me, Balor, and then Ziggy, clearly seeking an escape route. I suppress a grin—smart mate, looking to the displacer beast for a way out. Always thinking ahead.

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