Page 61 of Trial of the Cursed Egg

“Have a great class today,” I say, though she just groans.

“I’ll try, but these core classes are going to be the death of me.” She turns, her gaze hopeful, batting her eyes at Abraxis. “Are weabsolutelysure I can’t just test out of them?”

Abraxis’s eye twitches. I can see him at war with himself—the need to fix everything for his mate gnawing at him. With a reluctant sigh, he finally nods. “I’ll talk to Lysander about it.”

Mina squeals, bouncing up on her toes to kiss him, and he lets her, though Cora just rolls her eyes and tugs on Mina’s sash.

“You know that grosses me out, seeing you kiss my brother, right?” she says, giving Abraxis a teasing grin.

Abraxis growls low in his throat. Ziggy smirks, crossing his arms. “You’ve gone soft, General,” he taunts.

“It’s only for my mate,” Abraxis snaps, and before Ziggy can blink, he’s launched halfway across campus. He just reappears, shrugging like it’s nothing.

I clear my throat, and their eyes all turn to me, waiting. “We’ve got a bigger concern,” I start, steeling myself. “Nigel’s nephew … he thinks Mina is his mate. He’s already applied and been accepted here for next year.”

Abraxis goes still. His expression doesn’t shift, not even a flicker in his gaze. “If he’s unworthy,” he finally says with a dismissive shrug, “either the gauntlet or Mina will destroy him.” And without another word, he turns, heading toward his office, leaving the weight of those words hanging heavy in the air.

“That’s it?” I call after Abraxis, picking up my pace to catch him. The steady thuds of students’ fists and weapons’ striking practice dummies echo through the courtyard, filling the air with a rhythmic beat.

“Yup…” He barely glances back, his hand dropping casually to the pommel of the sword at his hip. “It’s not our decision, it’s hers.” He scans the courtyard, eyes narrowed as he takes in the scene. “Adding a gargoyle to the mix is strategic. Another fire-resistant addition to the nest, one that can fly. In his stone form, he’s practically immune to fire, acid … most weapons, really. Though, if anyone were to snag his talisman, he’d turn to stone during the day.”

He shrugs, clearly unconcerned, then strides forward, heading back toward the students he’s working with. “Besides, it’s Nigel’s nephew. Probably a string bean with no muscle on him. The gauntlet will take care of it. Problem solved.”

His words don’t bring me any comfort. My bond with Mina may have improved, but it’s nowhere near as strong as what she shares with Abraxis. And if I’m being honest, that’s on me. I glance up at the looming clock tower, calculating the time left—an hour before her art class. I can only hope things go smoothly.

Art class is unusually tense today. Mina is settled in her usual spot beneath the cherry blossom trees, looking calm and prepared. But then Nigel announces, “We have a real treat today. A live model from my clan,” and Mina’s head drops, eyes narrowing as she shuffles through her paints, adjusting her palette.

I watch her closely, and suddenly she goes still, her eyes taking on that familiar glow as her body tenses, caught in one of her visions. I reach out, resting my hand on her thigh to ground her as she gets lost in whatever she’s seeing. My gaze sweeps the class, finally landing on our model—a towering gargoyle in nothing but a loincloth. I cough, trying to mask my reaction, but there’s no hiding it: the fabric is barely doing its job.

Mina blinks a few times, coming back to herself, and, without looking up, dips her brush in a rich black paint, working on the canvas. She doesn’t spare Vaughn a single glance as she begins. But I can tell from the shapes and colors forming on the canvas that she’s painting him, capturing his essence. Half of the figure she paints is unmistakably human, the other half pure gargoyle—a perfect duality.

The more her brush moves, the clearer it becomes: she’s painting Vaughn as she saw him in her vision. She can’t see him from where she’s seated, but the form, the details … it’s like he’s sitting in her mind as clearly as he’s perched at the front of the class.

Nigel drifts around, checking our work, stopping here and there to make corrections. When he reaches us, he lingers behind Mina, peering over her shoulder. She pauses, her hand stilling, and her voice is calm as she speaks without turning. “You know I hate when people move behind me. It’s why I’m way back here.”

She finally glances over her shoulder at him, her gaze steady, a silent reminder that she doesn’t enjoy being watched. Nigel only chuckles, but the rest of us exchange glances, feeling the weight of her presence and Vaughn’s likeness on her canvas, vivid as any vision she’s ever had.

Nigel motions to the canvas and points, “How?” He and I both thought there was no way she’d remember his nephew.

“Not sure,” Mina lies smoothly, her words sliding out like silk. Nigel buys it without a second thought. With a final, careful brush stroke, she hands the canvas over to him. “Give it to him. I’ll see him next year at Shadowcarve. Unless he’s brave enough to run the gauntlet this year.” She pulls out her phone and sends a quick message.

The air around us hums and then pops, and suddenly Zigmander isstanding nearby, wearing his gloves, his hand extended toward her. “Ready?” he asks.

Mina finally glances across the lawn and notices the massive gargoyle perched on a stool, its eyes flaring in recognition. She takes a hesitant step back, pressing close to Ziggy, and before I can blink, they vanish, leaving us to wonder where they’ve gone.

“Where did she go?” Vaughn’s voice breaks through, and he barrels toward us, hastily holding his loincloth in place over his slightly smaller human form. He’s massive even in this form, nearly as bulky as Abraxis himself.

“Not sure, but she left you a painting.” I turn the canvas to face him, letting him take in the image. It’s him, seen through her eyes, every detail perfect.

“I didn’t think she’d remember who I am.” He stares at the image, his head tilting as he notices something. “I don’t have a scar there…” He points to the spot between his neck and shoulder.

I inhale deeply, loosening my tie and unbuttoning the top button of my shirt. I show him the mark Mina left on me, an identical scar to the one she painted on him. “Looks like it’s her way of saying she’ll accept you. That’s a mate mark.” I tap the canvas lightly with the back of a paintbrush, tracing the outline of the scar.

Vaughn’s excitement is like a spark, and I find myself smiling with him, caught up in his energy. “I need to carve her a present, then gather crystals and other trinkets to leave for her.” He’s practically bouncing on his feet, and I know there’s no stopping him once he’s set on something.

“She prefers candies and weapons to be left for her,” I hint, watching the way his eyes light up with the new information. He nods,already plotting, and then he’s off, disappearing into the shadows as swiftly as he came.

“That went better than expected,” I murmur, turning toward Nigel, who’s been quietly observing.

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