Page 32 of Trial of the Cursed Egg

“I think … that’s good. Thank you,” she whispers, her voice unsteady. I re-button my shirt, and she takes my hand, fingers lacing through mine.

“Time to face the music.” She leads me out of the tower, pausing just before the entrance to the main hall. Her grip shifts, and she loops her arm through mine, subtly using her bicep to direct me.

We step into the dining hall, and a heavy silence falls over the room. All eyes are on us. I can practically feel the judgment, the hostility, pressing in on all sides. Mina’s dragoness is a quiet force at my side, but I can see the strain in her eyes as she maintains her facade.

This is no dinner. This is a battlefield. And I have a sinking feeling that the gauntlet may be easier than dealing with my in-laws.

Mina

Head lowered,eyes down, speak only when spoken to.Those are the rules for when Dad has company. I keep my gaze trained on the patterned wood grain of the floor, forcing myself to breathe slowly, quietly, so no one will notice my presence more than necessary. Dad’s commanders fill the room with their heavy, oppressive energy, each one jostling for dominance, even in casual conversation. My sister sits, rigid and expressionless, while the monstrous male she was basically sold to lounges next to her like a smug cat that’s just swallowed a canary.

“Abraxis Havock, welcome again to the Risedale nest,” my father says proudly, his voice booming through the chamber like a whip crack. I flinch, my fingers trembling slightly. “I see you’ve learned quickly,” he adds, eyes flickering to me with a dark glint of satisfaction. “A good female is a quiet one.”

Heat rushes up my neck, and I squeeze Abraxis’s hand tighter, begging myself not to react, not to give any of these predators the satisfaction of seeing me break. But then Abraxis lets out a lowchuckle with that infuriatingly wicked smile that makes the scales on the back of my neck prickle in warning.

“I like Mina feral. It’s more fun that way,” he purrs, voice dripping with amused malice.

The sudden stillness around the table is suffocating. Even Dad falters, his brow furrowing as he searches Abraxis’s face for hidden meaning. Abraxis shifts, the slight movement guiding me to a seat at the far end of the table, away from the others. As I sit, he pulls my hand onto his thigh and flips it palm up. I expect some cruel game, but instead, he traces slow, deliberate letters onto my skin.

Sorry.

My breath catches, confusion, and anger swirling together. What is he playing at? But I don’t have time to dwell on it. A commander leans forward, his eyes gleaming with the cruel curiosity of a predator sniffing out prey.

“When should we expect your first clutch from the two of you?” he asks, his voice laced with the kind of interest that makes my stomach twist.

I tense, feeling Abraxis’s muscles coil beneath my hand. The silence stretches, every heartbeat echoing in my ears. “I’m in no rush for a clutch,” Abraxis says smoothly, his tone cool and disarming. “Females bearing eggs too young have complications. I want a large family at some point, but I don’t wish to ruin her so early on.”

The corner of my father’s mouth curls in a pleased smile, and the tension in the room dissipates like steam. It’s disgusting how easily they speak of me like I’m some prized breeding stock, my worth reduced to how many eggs I can lay. Most of dinner goes on like this,each comment cutting deeper until I feel like I’m bleeding from a thousand invisible wounds.

My mother, my sister, and I are degraded to the point of being little more than egg factories. My blood boils, the instinctual urge to unleash my power simmering just beneath the surface. Sparks crackle faintly in my throat, begging to be set free, but I grit my teeth, forcing myself to swallow them down. One slip, one misstep, and I’ll bring ruin on myself and my sister.

Towards the end of dinner, one of my father’s commanders saunters over to where we sit. His eyes glint with malicious interest as he looks me over like some specimen on display.

“Lift her head. I want to see the mark you left,” he demands.

Abraxis’s fingers curl under my chin, tilting my head up to expose the deep scarlet imprint of his bite. The commander’s gaze lingers on it, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.

“You marked her up good. There’s no confusing who she belongs to,” he sneers, leaning in as if to catch some secret between the two of us.

Lightning surges through my veins, searing and hungry. I imagine striking him right here and now, sending an electrified shock through his body until he convulses, sizzling like bacon on a hot stovetop. The vivid image brings me a flicker of satisfaction, but I force it down, locking it away with the rest of my frustrations.

Another male across the table raises his glass in a mocking salute. “Do you still allow her to do the Shadowcarve classes, or has she been restricted to the core studies?” The blood roars in my ears. I add his name to the growing list of people I’d like to torch.

“Abaddon trained her to dominate Shadowcarve and carry on hislegacy,” Abraxis replies smoothly, his gaze sliding over to me with a calculating gleam. “Why would I take her away from it?”

His words hang in the air like a challenge, his dark eyes glittering with some hidden motive. My father and his commanders shift uneasily, the power dynamics shifting like sand underfoot. Abraxis isn’t here to play the obedient mate, and they’re beginning to realize it.

My mate’s lips curl into a smile that’s almost too sharp. It’s the kind of smile that sends shivers down my spine, making me wonder just how much of this dinner is for show. He’s enjoying this—the way he’s messing with my father and his people, keeping them on edge.

The dining hall’s oppressive air seems to linger around me long after the meal concludes. Every word, every calculated smile from my father presses down like a weight I can’t shrug off. Abraxis rises beside me, his presence steady and reassuring amidst the turbulent thoughts swirling in my mind.

“We’re going to retire for the evening,” he announces, his voice carrying a finality that leaves no room for objections. He reaches for my hand and gently pulls me to my feet. Instinct takes over—I dip into a curtsy, the act automatic after years of conditioning. Without hesitation, I step closer to Abraxis, tucking myself beneath his arm, his familiar warmth a balm against the chill of realization still settling in my bones.

“Enjoy your stay here. Family dinner is on Fridays—come and go as you please,” my father’s voice cuts through the murmurs of departing guests. “You are welcome to use the training facilities... to keep mydaughter in line if need be. The gauntlet was a great attitude adjuster.”

His words are like ice water, numbing and biting. The smile I plaster on my face feels foreign, strained, as part of my heart sinks.Of course.The gauntlet—the hours of agony and endless endurance—was never meant to strengthen me. It was meant to bend me, to shatter me slowly, piece by piece. To control me.

He dismisses us with a wave of his hand, and I turn on autopilot, guiding Abraxis through the halls of the estate. My steps are measured, even, yet inside I’m unraveling.How did I perceive it all wrong?I thought Dad was proud of me, that his intense regimen was a sign of his love and belief in my abilities. Instead, it’s clear that I was being broken, little by little, until I became exactly what he wanted—a weapon.

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