Page 39 of Trial of the Cursed Egg

“You realize my legs work, right?” I tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek, though the tension in my shoulders doesn’t ease.

“I know, but this way, you don’t have to deal with anyone. And I get to hold my mate a little longer.” The corner of his lips lifts in a smirk, but his eyes scan the campus below, always alert.

When we finally land in the courtyard of the Malivore Conservatory, I shudder at the change in atmosphere. Dead, gnarled trees line the courtyard, their twisted branches clawing at the sky. Shadows seem to pool in the corners of the stone walls, and a chill creeps into my bones that has nothing to do with the temperature.

This place feels wrong. Like the air itself is laced with dark magic. I swallow hard, clutching the card tightly in my hand. Abraxis’s arm tightens around me, a silent reminder that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere. I draw in a breath, trying to steady my racing heart, but the unease only grows stronger.

“What’s the matter?” Abraxis murmurs, his voice low and soothing.

“I just … have a bad feeling about this,” I admit quietly, eyes locked on the looming entrance ahead. The doors stand tall and foreboding, black iron inlaid with swirling patterns that seem to shift and pulse. I can’t shake the sense that something is watching, waiting.

“Let’s get this over with,” I whisper, stepping forward, the weight of the choosing pressing down like a lead weight on my chest.

Stepping inside the building, the air is thick with tension, just like it was outside. A heavy silence hovers, broken only by murmured voices and the sound of shuffling feet. Students line the walls, every one of them clutching a card like it’s a lifeline. I scan the crowd, my gaze drifting from face to face. Every species on campus is represented today, which only makes the unease claw at my insides even more.

“Feels like lambs to the slaughter,” I murmur under my breath, lips barely moving. My eyes land on Arista, who’s lingering a few feet away, her presence souring the air. I curl my lip. “I swear, if Bahamut gives her an egg, I’m going on a rampage.”

After I get registered, Abraxis leads us to a quieter spot against the wall, away from prying eyes. He presses his back to a column, his wings shifting slightly to accommodate its width, then pulls me close until my back is flush against his chest. The steady beat of his heart thunders against my shoulder blades, grounding me. He lowers his lips to my ear, his voice a low whisper meant just for me.

“Nervous?” His breath, warm against my skin, sends shivers racing down my spine.

“Yes, and no.” I barely have time to respond before a commotion erupts near the double doors—the ones we have to pass through to get to the eggs.

“I have an egg!” A male bursts out of the room, holding an opalescent white egg high above his head, his voice booming with triumph.

“Hmph…” I reach into my leathers and pull out the miniature cards Callan and I painstakingly created, each one listing details on the cursed eggs. I flip to the white card. “Odds are it’ll go dormant again around year three.” I shrug and sift through the remaining cards, my fingers nimble despite the tension coiled tight in my chest.

“Which one are you hoping for?” Abraxis tightens his hold, a silent show of support as his wings wrap just a fraction closer around me.

“Honestly? None.” I turn in his arms, looking up to meet his gaze. The swirling mix of colors in his eyes is a comforting chaos, one I’m used to losing myself in. “But, since we’re here and I have to go through with this…” I sigh, glancing over my shoulder at the thick doors hiding our fate. “Either black, green, or red. With everything going on, having extra firepower wouldn’t hurt.”

He grins, the kind of smile that lights up his face and turns his fierce features into something softer, something meant only for me. Leaning down, he presses his lips to my temple. “There’s my little deadly tactician.”

His grin falters, eyes sharpening into a hard glare as they lock on something—or rather, someone—behind me. The mask of bitter hatred that slips over his face is a chilling contrast to his warmth seconds ago.

“Get your grubby hands off my betrothed,” Arista snaps, the words dripping with venom. She lunges forward, fingers outstretched, to grab Abraxis’s hand. The moment her skin touches his, she recoils, her face contorting as she retches, bile rising to her throat.

My fingers tingle, and then talons burst through the tips, a satisfying snick reverberating in my bones as I whirl around to face her. The growl that rips from my chest is feral, deep. “Yeah, no … My male, my betrothed, my mate.” Scales ripple down my arms, a silver, and emerald shimmer racing across my skin as anger floods my veins. The surge of energy is intoxicating, and if Abraxis wasn’t holding me, I’d be launching a bolt of lightning straight at her heart.

“My love…” His voice drops to that deep, smoky tone that turns my insides to molten heat. My knees weaken, but I manage to keep my stance. “She’s obviously delusional. Touching me made her sick. Let the poor wretch live and suffer, watching you flourish and one day … our nest grow.”

He opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into my shoulder, the sight of his sharp fangs piercing my flesh makes Arista’s eyes widen with horror. Her expression twists, and she turns and runs, stumbling over her own feet in her haste to get away.

Abraxis’s laughter is a soft rumble against my ear as he retracts his teeth and laps gently at the fresh wounds. Him and his love bites.

Lysander steps out into the hallway, his gaze sharp and calculating as it sweeps the length of the corridor. “Number thirteen,” he calls out, his voice echoing softly. He turns his head, looking left and right, his eyes searching for the person holding the marked card.

“Let’s get this over with,” I murmur, resisting the urge to tighten my grip on Abraxis’ arm. Instead, I allow him to guide us forward, the weight of the moment settling heavily on my chest as we approach Lysander. The tension in the air crackles, my dragoness shifting restlessly within me, sensing what’s to come.

Lysander’s gaze glides over us like a physical touch, assessing, measuring. He pauses when we both lift our chins, exposing our throats where our mate marks glisten in the dim light. A flicker of something unreadable crosses his face before he speaks again. “You may join her,” he says, voice low and clipped. “But do not move from the stone where I have you stand.” With a nod, he turns on his heel and strides towards the candlelit chamber.

We follow him in silence. The double doors swing shut behind us with a soft thud, sealing us inside the chamber. My breath catches as Itake in the sight before me. The room is cast in a warm, flickering glow, the shadows playing tricks on the obsidian slab that stretches out before us. There, in a half arc, the dragon eggs sit on individual clay rings, each one delicately elevated above the slab’s surface. The obsidian absorbs the ambient magic like a void, ensuring no stray power can influence the eggs.

Abraxis steps onto the marked tile just inside the room, his movements careful and measured. I lean in to give him a quick kiss, feeling his calm presence steady me before I turn back to Lysander.

“What do I do?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper in the stillness.

“Stand here.” He gestures to a block of clear quartz set on the ground a few paces away. I climb onto it, the cool surface grounding me as I glance back at him one more time, searching his expression for any hint of what’s about to happen.

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