Page 26 of Trial of the Cursed Egg

“Will you allow me to walk you to Callan’s class?” I ask softly, pullingmy phone from my pocket and glancing at the time. I hold it up for her to see, hoping she’ll agree. Hoping this will be another step forward for us.

“It would be nice,” she says, a hint of relief coloring her tone. “I need to clean up from art class first, then we can go.” She stands up, every movement unhurried, as if testing to see if I’ll wait. Of course, I will. I’d wait for her forever if she asked. Mina packs up the basket with deliberate care and hands it to me, the woven handle warm from her touch.

I follow behind her, excitement building low in my gut, making my pulse quicken. She’s willing to talk to me again. No more secrets between us. We’re going to work on becoming a team, to be what we once were, and maybe … even more. “How are your classes going?” I ask as we reach her station. The lingering scent of paint and turpentine fills the air, mingling with her unique scent—sandalwood and something distinctly Mina.

She packs up her paints, wiping her hands on a rag before throwing a cover over her latest piece. “The required courses are boring as all hell,” she says with a dismissive wave, her gaze briefly flicking to the canvas. “The designation classes, for the most part, are easy. Dad taught me most of this stuff before I turned ten.” She shrugs, the gesture casual, but I don’t miss the way her shoulders tighten ever so slightly, as if holding back more than she’s letting on.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small pamphlet, holding it out to me with a contemplative look. “It’s from my politics class. Page eighty-seven mentions that dragonesses have multiple mates for a strong nest. But it says on page ninety that mates outside of the female’s species are frowned upon but not forbidden.” Her eyes narrow as she searches my face, waiting for my reaction.

Swallowing hard, I draw in a deep breath, willing my voice to remain steady. “It’s possible for a female to have multiple mates. The main reason it’s frowned upon is that the male will never have a child of his species with the female. As long as he accepts that, it’s not a bad thing. Dragons will always produce dragons. Manticores will always produce manticores, and basilisks will produce basilisks.” My gaze locks onto hers, the words falling softly between us. “Do you want other mates with us?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, thick with unspoken implications. Her breath catches, and she freezes, staring at me like I’ve just unraveled some forbidden secret. “I get the feeling from Callan … there may be something there.” Her voice is barely a murmur as she touches the same eye Callan is missing, her fingertips ghosting over her own skin. I nod, the memory of his hesitation, his self-doubt, washing over me. “But he said it today—he’s not worthy of a mate because he’s damaged.” Her gaze is distant, the words tinged with frustration and a sadness I wish I could wipe away.

“If he has a mate, she will have to show him he’s worthy,” I reply, shrugging as if it’s that simple. Maybe it is. Maybe he just needs to see himself through her eyes. I pick up her bag, adjusting the strap over my shoulder, and glance down the path towards Shadowcarve. The shadows there seem to swirl and twist, like a living thing waiting to pull us in.

“Shall we?” My voice is lighter now, the weight of the conversation lessened by the thought of walking beside her.

She nods, her steps quickening as if eager to leave the art class behind. I fall into step beside her, our shoulders brushing, and for the first time in a long while, the silence between us feels comfortable—like a promise of what’s to come. A new beginning.

Leander’s eyebrows shoot up as he spots us standing together at the double doors to Shadowcarve. The surprise on his face is almost comical, but I raise a finger to my lips, signaling for silence. He blinks slowly, then nods, gaze flicking from me to Mina, who tilts her head curiously and steps into his space.

“You meant well,” she murmurs softly, her voice a gentle hum that vibrates between us. Her fingertips brush his cheek before she continues on into the courtyard without another glance back.

Leander’s eyes narrow in confusion, his head tilting to the side like a curious hound. “What changed?” His tone is cautious, wary, as he falls into step beside me. We both watch Mina’s figure disappear into her suite to get changed, her movements smooth and controlled—too controlled for someone who’s been through what she has.

“I told her the rest of the truth.” The words are heavy on my tongue, each syllable laced with the weight of confessions and secrets unearthed. I glance down at the backpack in my hand. “We did it to protect her, not to hurt her or hide who she was to me. But it’s going to take time. Time to rebuild the bridges we broke.”

Leander’s sudden laughter startles me. It’s sharp and loud, drawing the attention of a few students lingering near the gates. “For your sake, it better be,” he chuckles, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “I think Balor may want to run you through—he misses his buddy.”

An icy shiver runs down my spine. I can’t tell if he’s serious or joking; Leander’s sense of humor has always been twisted, especially when emotions run high. One thing’s certain, though—Balor hasn’t spoken two words to me since the night Mina took off, tears streaming down her face like shattered crystal.

“Where is he?” I murmur, catching sight of Mina now in her leathers, her stride confident as she ascends the stairs toward the classroom.Every muscle in my body tenses as I think of what’s coming—our confrontation with the others.

“Talking to Callan. Ziggy’s there as well,” Leander answers, his voice low. We both know what that means: the entire crew will be there. And the second Mina steps through that door, it’s going to feel like an ambush. A setup. All of them gathered in one place, waiting.

Waiting for her.

“Hopefully she’s in a good mood today,” Leander mutters. “Seeing everyone in one place might be too much for her.”

I nod absently, pulse hammering like a war drum in my ears. My gaze drifts to the clouds, the dark edges curling inward like a brewing storm.Bahamut, if you’re listening, grant me one more gift—understanding.Understanding to help her see why we did what we did. Understanding to soothe the ache in her chest when she faces the people she thinks betrayed her.

We reach the top of the stairs, and I can see the outline of her shadow slipping through the door. For a second, the world narrows to just that—the sway of her hair, the way her shoulders tighten almost imperceptibly.

Leander’s hand claps on my shoulder, startling me back to the present. “Whatever happens in there, Abraxis, you’ve got this. You have to.”

I swallow hard, fingers tightening around the strap of her backpack. “Yeah. Let’s hope she sees it that way.”

And with that, we step inside, following her into the unknown, every instinct on high alert.

Mina

My leathers don’tfit right. They’re too loose, hanging off me like a secondhand costume rather than a well-worn suit of armor. Maybe I let my grief consume me, like Addy suggested. The thought stings as I adjust my jacket and climb the stairs, my boots making hollow thuds against the worn wood. The distant murmur of voices draws me in—heated, tense—each word sharpening as I get closer. Ziggy, Balor, and Callan are huddled in the office, in the middle of a fierce discussion.

“How in the world are you going to give the final with one student?” Balor’s voice is almost a constant hiss, his irritation palpable in the air.

“We can pick a second year for her to spar with.” Ziggy’s suggestion comes out as a reluctant murmur, like he’s walking on glass.

My fingers curl around the handle, and I push the door open, the creak loud in the sudden silence as all three males turn toward me. I pin each of them with a glare, one by one, letting the weight of my frustration bleed into the room.

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