Page 4 of Trial of the Cursed Egg

I nod stiffly and step aside, moving towards where she directed us to go, Addy at my side. The campus looms larger, colder, and more dangerous with each step I take.

Zigmander, our trainer, strides ahead, his voice low and gravelly as he drones on about the academy’s history. I think that’s what he said his name was—Zigmander. Displacer beast, he mentioned. I hadn’t even known they were real, not until today. My life back home was so sheltered, isolated within my mother’s flight, everything orchestrated by my father. Seeing so many species here is overwhelming... but also fascinating. I try not to stare too long at any one person or creature as we walk, my curiosity bubbling up despite myself.

He points out various buildings as we pass, his words blending into the background. I already know the essentials.Thanks, Daddy. I mentally thank my father for all the briefings. He’s always been a step ahead, planning for this day long before I even understood why.

Iris shifts on my shoulder, her small claws barely brushing my skin as she settles. Her tiny golden eyes flicker around, taking in everything. She’s just as intrigued as I am, though her posture remains vigilant. I run a finger along her side to calm her, but she doesn’t need it—she’s perfectly still, watching.

We drop the first group of students at the southern dorms. The remaining twelve of us are led further north, toward the isolated dorms meant for those... of dragon blood. I can feel the tension in the air, the awareness of being among others with rare abilities, unique lineages. My breath catches as I glance around. A flight of fire drakes walks with Addy and me, their scales gleaming under the afternoon sun.

As we approach the northern dorms, I noticehim. A figure standing high above us on a stone landing, just above the entrance. At first, it’s his wings that draw my attention—fully unfurled, massive, dark as obsidian. Then I see the armor. He’s clad in battle gear, not ceremonial, but worn and hardened. A Black Dragon. The only kind thatkeeps their wings in human form. My heart skips a beat. His presence radiates power.

My gaze locks onto the horns peeking from his dark hair—smaller than mine, yet unmistakably dragonic. There’s something about him that feels...familiar,though I’ve never met him before. His eyes sweep the crowd below as if searching for something—someone.

The moment his gaze finds us, his wings flare wide, a rush of energy vibrating through the air.Recognition.Ifeel it.His mate is here. I swallow, glancing around at the seven females in our group. Who is he looking for?

“See, I told you he’s mine.” One of the taller girls waves at him, her voice annoyingly confident. But he doesn’t wave back. He doesn’t even look at her. His piercing gaze is searching for something else... someone else.

Astrange sensationcreeps up my spine. No... not her. He’s looking at someone else entirely.

Abraxis

Abaddon’s falconswoops in just after dawn, a dark blur against the pale sky. It perches on my windowsill, its talons scraping the stone ledge as it waits for me to take the missive clutched in its talons. My gut clenches the moment I see the black wax seal. The message I’ve been dreading has arrived. Mina is on her way to the school.

I rip the seal and scan the letter quickly, my heart pounding harder with every word. Abaddon has detailed every brutal aspect of her training over the last twenty years. He’s made her lethal, honed her into something sharp enough to survive here. A third of the first years die within the first three months. Some don’t even make it past the assessment. The mock war games that pit student against student are just a bloodbath.

I force myself to focus, but my thoughts flicker to Mina. Twenty years of training, and now she’s walking straight into a nightmare. I feel a surge of possessiveness and dread. She’s going to need more than what Abaddon taught her if she wants to survive in this place.

The falcon caws, reminding me of its presence. I glance at the remaining item it carried—a folded photograph of Mina. Abaddon enclosed it, as if to show me who she is now.My mate. Or betrothed, as far as he knows. I run my thumb over the image; her face is both familiar and foreign.

Without another thought, I hand it off to Zigmander, my second-in-command, who’s been watching me with narrowed eyes. “Make sure my betrothed is in your group,” I say, my voice low but firm. “Arista’s flight is here this year, and you know she’s still bitter that my family refused her father’s marriage proposal. If she catches wind of Mina, she’ll make sure Mina doesn’t survive her first week.”

Zigmander nods, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—curiosity or maybe concern—but he doesn’t question me. Instead, he palms the photograph as Balor strides into the room, taking everything in with a knowing glance.

“Your betrothed, huh?” Balor mutters, swiping the image from Zigmander’s hand before I can protest. His dark eyes sweep over the photograph, and a smirk curls his lips. “She’ll end up in my class by the looks of her. Greens are notorious for preferring poison over direct combat. Weakness, in my opinion.”

I clench my jaw but say nothing. He’s right. If Mina is a typical green, her preferred method of survival will be subtlety, not strength. And here, subtlety only gets you so far before someone’s blade finds your back.

Balor arches a brow at me, the smirk never leaving his face. “Good luck with that, Abraxis. She’ll need it.”

Standing on the stone landing above the dorms, I have the perfect vantage point to watch the students as they approach. My gaze sweeps across the sea of faces, but I’m not looking for just anyone. My sister, Cora, was placed in the same room as Mina—by my hand. A gem dragon will not protect Mina from anything, but I’ll make sure she’s taken care of. Zigmander leads the group toward the dorm, and as soon as my eyes catch the mass of green and silver hair, my breath catches in my throat.

Her horns are regal and towering over her, unmistakable. Her petite, toned form stands out, but it’s her golden eyes that ensnare me. She looks up, and I feel it—the pull. Before I can stop myself, my wings snap out to their full span, a reflex, betraying me in the worst way possible. Her gaze locks with mine, and there’s no doubt.She’s my mate.

Ziggy arches a brow, catching my reaction, but I can barely move. My face betrays nothing—I hope. My wings refuse to cooperate, trembling with the tension in the air. I struggle to get them under control. Then I hear it—Arista’s voice, smug and possessive.

“See? I told you he’s mine.” The claim alone sends anger surging through me, and my wings snap back in place as fury twists inside me.

My eyes never leave my mate. Her sharp gaze darts from Arista back to me, calculating, reading the tension in the air. The tilt of her head shows she’s smart—she already knows. Arista isn’t mine, not even close. My mate doesn’t need words to piece it together. Her gaze shifts quickly, scanning the other females in her group, trying to figure out who, exactly, I’m staring at so intently.

For now, though, she doesn’t know the truth. I can keep this secret a little while longer. She’ll only recognize me as hers when we’re bothin our dragon forms, and by then, the bond will be undeniable. But for now, I watch, tension coiling in my chest, knowing that the moment she realizes the truth, everything will change.

Zigmander leads the group inside, and I can finally breathe when she’s safely within the dragon dorms. The weight on my chest loosens just enough to remind me I need her close. The north tower is where my friends and I keep our rooms, conveniently near the third-floor chamber where my mate will be staying. I won’t relax until I know she’s secured. My eyes drift over to Leander, who wears that smug grin that usually means trouble.

“Say it...” I sigh. Might as well rip the bandage off now.

“You’re in deep shit, you know that, right?” Leander drawls, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Your drake won’t settle until you can claim her. Or, at the very least, provide for her.” That damn nightmare of his is always too smart for his own good, reading my every thought before I can even voice them.

“It’s already done.” My hand instinctively moves to the pommel of the sword at my hip, a silent promise to both myself and her. “I left gifts on their beds. My sister’s has my name. The one for my mate—unsigned. Her friend’s card too. No signatures.”

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