Page 2 of Trial of the Cursed Egg

The egg chamber smells of limestone, the scent as familiar as the weight of my wings. Like every other nest, this place has absorbed the scent of the eggs and hatchlings—easy prey for anyone hunting for a quick kill. The pale green light from the embedded glow stones flickers against the walls, reflecting off the stream of magma flowing along the western wall. The warmth it radiates seeps into my skin, but it’s the egg in the center of the room that holds my attention now.

A tinkling sound reaches my ears, subtle but enough to make my head snap toward the nest. The egg has moved, shifted from its original position. My breath catches as I see it—a crack, thin but unmistakable, splintering across the shell.

“Lady Layla, the egg has a crack,” I call out, my voice lower than I expect, edged with something that feels suspiciously like fear.

Both females rush over, their eyes locked on the egg. It shifts again; the crack widening. The sound of the shell breaking fills the room with a tension that prickles at my skin.

“Should I call for Vox?” My mother’s voice trembles as she glances toward the door, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

Layla shakes her head, the movement slow, deliberate. “Only if it’s female,” she whispers, but there’s something broken in her voice. I’venever heard a female sound like that before. Even dad can’t make mom sound that way.

Layla hums a melody I’ve heard once before—when my little sister was born. It’s soft, a song filled with hope, with quiet expectation. Mom leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of my head, fingers crossed like always. “Fingers crossed your princess is in there,” she whispers, her lips brushing against my hair.

I edge closer to the nest, the warmth from the magma making the air thick and heavy. I lean in, peering at the shell as it cracks further. Silver talons punch through, small but sharp, pulling at the fragments to break free. I feel my heart pound in my chest, every second stretching into eternity.

Minutes tick by like hours. The crack widens until, finally; the hatchling tumbles out. It’s all wings and steel bladed edges gleaming in the dim light. Green scales shimmer, edged with silver like armor, and its wings flare as it takes its first breath.

And then it looks at me.

Time stops.

I can’t breathe. My wings twitch, wanting to spread,to claim. My mother’s sharp intake of breath breaks the moment, her eyes wide, horror written across her face as she shakes her head at me. I try to force my wings to stay tucked tight against my body, but it’s like trying to fight gravity.

I can’t tear my eyes away from her—my mate.Her golden eyes lock on mine, unblinking, and I know. I know in my bones that this is her.

“I’m going to tell Vox the betrothal can proceed as planned,” Layla announces, her smile wide as she leans down and kisses the crown ofmy head again. “Welcome to the family, Abraxis,” she adds before leaving the room.

Mom bends down, her breath warm against my ear. “You can’t tell anyone she’s your mate,” she whispers, the weight of her words pressing down on me like a stone. “Dragon mates are rare. Mates with other species are common, but not forbidden under the accords—unless it strengthens the bloodline or flight. You know what this means.”

Her voice trembles, and I don’t have to look at her to know she’s scared. Not for herself, but for me. And forher.

The hatchling stumbles toward me, her legs unsteady, but her eyes never waver. Mom’s voice is low as she continues. “Her coloring, who her father is … she’ll have a target on her back. You’ll have to train harder than ever, be stronger than you thought possible, if you want to protect her.”

I nod, but my throat feels tight, my heart pounding. Twenty-one years. That’s how long I have to wait. Twenty-one years to survive primary school, Draconis Academy, and War College. But I already know—I’m done for. The moment I reach out and touch her, her eyes flutter closed at the contact, and my fate is sealed.

I have to survive it all—for her.

Mina

Twenty years later…

The moment I first shifted, Dad had known what my future would hold. My green scales—rare, dangerous—marked me as one of the cursed ones among dragon kind. Green dragons are known for their tempers, their cunning, and their skill in stealth. Shadowblades. That’s what polite society calls us. Assassins. Poisoners. It’s no secret I’ve had a target on my back since birth.

This morning does not differ from any other—Dad has me running his assassin’s gauntlet before the sun has even fully risen. I’ve passed through it four times already, each one a little faster than the last. The archery part is over before I can even break a sweat; hitting the bullseye with each arrow feels as natural as breathing. Sometimes, it feels like I was born with throwing knives and a bow in my hands, as if they’re extensions of me, woven into my very bones.

We move on to sparring, the part of training that Dad calls fighting up. It’s his way of reminding me that brute strength doesn’t winbattles—strategy does. I’m up against Garrett, easily twice my size, but I’ve never let that intimidate me. This is about agility and out-thinking my opponent. I shift my weight, my muscles coiling with tension as I dodge another strike.

“Move faster, Mina!” Dad’s voice cuts through the air, sharp as the magic blades we’re wielding. These blades don’t cut flesh, but they leave a mark—a reminder that one misstep could mean my life in a real fight.

Garrett’s next swing barely misses my head, but I’m already moving, fluid as water. My blade finds its mark—his ribs, his shoulder, his thigh. I land three quick blows before sweeping his legs out from under him and pinning him to the ground, my blade pressed against his throat. His breath comes out in a huff, and I see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“I yield,” he says, his voice strained but resigned.

I step back, offering him a hand. He takes it, rising to his feet as Dad steps forward, his presence commanding without needing to say a word.

“Go get everything ready for the trip,” Dad orders Garrett, his tone leaving no room for argument. Garrett nods and heads off without hesitation.

Now it’s just me and Dad. The weight of his gaze falls heavy on me,and I know this will not be a simple conversation. Something’s shifted in the air, and my instincts scream at me to stay on guard.

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