Page 56 of Trial of the Cursed Egg

“Hey! Put me down!” I shriek, flailing as Abraxis hoists me up like I weigh nothing at all.

He grins down at me, his golden eyes twinkling with amusement. “Nope. Time to get up, sleepyhead.”

I’m carried out of the room like some helpless damsel and dumped onto the bed. Abraxis keeps a firm grip on the blanket as I make a grab for it, holding it just out of reach. I scowl up at him, but he only chuckles. “You need to get dressed.”

“Really?” I grumble, standing up slowly, still glaring daggers at him. Then, an idea forms. If he wants me to get up, I’ll get up. I untie my robe with deliberate slowness, letting it slip off my shoulders and drop to the floor.

He inhales sharply, eyes darkening as his gaze roves over me. “You’re playing dirty, Mrs. Havock.”

I raise an eyebrow and smirk, crossing my arms. “I’m not the one teasing me with his last name.” I lean in and gently boop him on the nose before sauntering over to the closet. His eyes follow my every move, his expression torn between frustration and admiration.

“Touché,” he murmurs with a crooked smile.

I slip into the dreaded school uniform, adjusting the stiff fabric as it clings uncomfortably. Once I’m fully dressed, I press a quick kiss to his lips and dart out of the room, feeling his gaze linger on me.

“Good luck today,” Abraxis calls after me, voice laced with something warmer than just playfulness.

I turn, giving him a small smile. “I’ll need it.”

Callan is already in the hallway, leaning against the wall with a faint smirk on his face. He straightens up as I approach, pulling me in for a quick hug. “Cora said you were being a brat again,” he teases, his breath warm against my ear.

“She started it,” I grumble half-heartedly, burying my face in his chest for a brief second before stepping back.

Just as I predicted, the test is boring as all hell. I fly through the questions, my mind disengaging before I even reach the end. Sighing, I push the paper away, knowing I’m finished well ahead of everyone else. The student teacher arches a brow, and I nod, handing it over before retreating to my usual spot against the wall. It’s the same drill every time: hand in the test, wait for what feels like hours, and try not to look too smug about it.

The clock ticks by slowly, dragging out each second, until—finally—the student teacher calls time and starts collecting the remaining papers. I let my gaze wander, expecting to see nothing but the usual scene of students shuffling and stretching after being hunched over desks. But something—or rather,someone—catches my eye.

Callan. He’s standing at the back of the classroom, leaning casually against the wall, but his eye is anything but relaxed. It scans the room, lingering on every face, every movement. His presence sends a ripple of unease down my spine. What in the world is going on with the guys lately? First, it was their sudden appearances in my free periods, and now they’re invading my classes?

Before I can dwell on it, the bell rings. I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder, keeping Callan in my peripheral vision as I move toward the door. The student teacher intercepts me, holding out my test with a knowing smile.

“Great job, as usual, Mina.”

I glance at the score. A perfect hundred and five. No surprises there. “Thanks.” I walk past him, already feeling the weight of eyes on meagain.

“How in the bloody hell did you know I’d get an eighty-seven?” Cora’s voice pulls me back. She grabs my test and waves it around like it’s a magic wand, her jaw dropping when she sees the score. “This is freaky as all hell.”

“What’s freaky?” Callan’s voice comes from nowhere, sliding up alongside us like a shadow. His proximity is a wall of warmth against the slight chill in the hallway. “What’s going on?”

“Mina knew what we were going to get as scores,” Cora pouts, shaking her head like it’ll dispel whatever weird magic she thinks I’m working. “Ooh, do you know who my mate is?”

The question hits me like a physical blow. I turn to look at her, searching for … something. But there’s nothing. Just empty space where there should be something—a pull, a whisper, a flicker of light … It’s not like I can just make it happen on command. My chest tightens. “It doesn’t work that way,” I say softly, my voice laced with a frustration that Cora, thankfully, misses.

“Not here,” Callan interjects, his tone cryptic as ever. He scans the hallway before nudging us forward. “Come on, both of you. We need to talk.”

My pulse spikes as we take the stairs up to the next floor, every echo of our footsteps sounding sharper, heavier. He steers us into the teacher’s lounge, the deserted room quiet except for the faint hum of the vending machine. His grip on my arm tightens, pulling me away from the windows.

“Abraxis and I … we suspect you’re a seer.” He delivers the words softly, each syllable weighted with unspoken implications. His gaze bores into mine, searching, waiting for the realization to hit. And when it does, it slams into me with the force of a freight train.

Seers are killed on sight.

“Oh crap,” I breathe, voice barely a whisper. My head spins with all the stories I’ve heard—the gruesome tales of what happens when a seer’s visions grow too powerful, too uncontrollable. A thousand scenarios run through my mind, each one ending in blood and fire. “What do we do?” I lean closer, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down, my lips brushing his ear. “Callan, what the hell do we do?”

“Hide it,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. “And protect you with everything we’ve got.” He says it so simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world—like it’s no different from tying our shoelaces or breathing.

I swallow hard, my eyes dropping to the egg carrier nestled against my chest. My fingers tremble as I trace the edge of the case. If I really am a seer … Then maybe the red dragon I’ve been seeing isn’t just a figment of my imagination. Maybe … just maybe… it’s Klauth. And if that’s true, then my dad … My dad is in deep shit.

Abraxis

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