Page 43 of Trial of the Cursed Egg

Everyone’s here, except for Callan. The absence of his presence claws at me, a nagging itch just beneath my skin. The urge to go find him thrums through me, but I force myself to stay put, my fingers twisting in my lap.

Balor settles beside me, his weight sinking into the cushion slightly, and I look up just as he nudges me playfully with a pillow. “He’ll come,” he murmurs with quiet confidence. “You acknowledged him. His gryphon won’t allow him to be far from you now.” He punctuates his statement by waving a bag of marshmallows in front of me, the crinkling plastic breaking through the silence. He holds out a stick, a smile tugging at his lips. “Want to try?”

“What are we, five?” I glance at him sideways, unable to completely squash the amusement that bubbles up despite the nerves twisting in my gut.

“Maybe.” He shrugs, impaling a marshmallow on his stick and holding it above the fire. “My brothers and I used to do this when something was bothering us. It made us feel better.”

The flames lick at the marshmallow, turning the white puff into a molten, caramel-brown treat. I watch as it bubbles, the sweet scent teasing my senses. “I would be sent to run the gauntlet or fight with bamboo sticks,” I murmur, staring at the marshmallow and the stick he offers me. The memory of sore muscles and bruises itches at theback of my mind. I find myself unsure of what to do with the seemingly simple act of toasting a marshmallow.

“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” he says softly, his voice pulling me out of the memory’s grip. He finishes toasting his marshmallow and hands me the stick. Taking mine, he preps it with another fluffy puff before switching back.

I stare at the marshmallow for a beat longer and then tentatively lower it over the flames, mimicking his slow, steady movements. Everything seems to go fine—until it isn’t. The marshmallow ignites in a sudden burst of fire, and I yelp, flailing as I launch it across the room. It smacks against Leander’s book with a wet splat; the flames sizzling out as it sticks to the cover like a melted, sugary parasite.

“Sorry!” I blurt, cheeks heating with more than just the fire’s warmth. I curl in on myself, watching as Leander’s brow furrows, and he frowns down at his book, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

“Okay, so no fire for you then,” Balor laughs softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He plucks the toasted marshmallow off the stick and offers it to me. “Maybe we should skip to the part where you eat it.”

The outer shell is crispy, crumbling slightly as I take a hesitant bite. But the inside—oh, the inside—is soft and gooey, melting on my tongue like a sugary cloud. A surprised moan of delight escapes me, and I chew slowly, savoring the unexpected bliss. “This is amazing.”

Balor grins, clearly pleased with my reaction. Just as I’m about to try roasting another marshmallow myself—against Leander’s wishes—the doors swing open with a creak, and I look up to see Abraxis striding in, Callan at his side. Relief floods through me, warm and heavy, and I can’t help the wide grin that splits my face.

“Look who I found wandering the halls,” Abraxis announces, his voice carrying an edge of teasing. Callan’s gaze meets mine, and the tension that’s been coiled in my chest loosens just a fraction.

“Glad you could make it,” I say around a mouthful of marshmallow, my words sticking together as the sugary treat cements my lips. I probably look ridiculous, but I don’t care. He’s here, and that’s all that matters.

“Mina’s never had marshmallows before,” Balor informs them, his tone almost conspiratorial. He points to the sad, sticky mess still clinging to Leander’s book. “Her first one... well, it didn’t quite make it.”

“Really?” Callan’s eyebrows shoot up as he glances at me, his lips twitching with the hint of a smile. I give a sheepish shrug in response.

“The one she’s eating is the first one she made herself,” Balor continues, his voice laced with amusement. He doesn’t mention that I didn’t really make it—I just kept it from becoming a second charred projectile.

Rolling my eyes, I grab a second stick, determined to get it right this time. I carefully balance two marshmallows on the ends and hover them over the fire, turning them slowly as Balor continues to feed me the ones he’s toasting. By the time I have two perfectly golden marshmallows, I’m practically vibrating with excitement. I rush over to where Abraxis and Callan are deep in conversation and shove a stick into each of their hands.

“Here!” I say triumphantly, like I’ve just handed them the finest delicacy in the world. They glance at the marshmallows, then back at me, the confusion plain on their faces.

Without waiting for a response, I turn on my heel and head back to the fire. Who knew a little ball of sugar could bring me so much happiness? Well, that and having my friends and both of my mates close to me. I settle back beside Balor, a sense of contentment settling over me. This—this moment right here—is worth all the sticky fingers and burned marshmallows in the world.

Abraxis

Watching my mate,Mina, carefully construct the foundation of her nest is nothing short of impressive. Each deliberate movement she makes sends a swell of pride through me. The one good thing that monster of a father did was shape her into someone who’s so analytical and meticulous. She approaches this task like a strategy game, assessing the structure piece by piece instead of letting her emotions dictate her decisions. Despite everything, she’s learned to be precise, to think through every move—traits that keep her grounded even now.

Having my closest friends here, building our nest with us, has helped me relax a little when it comes to keeping her safe. It’s been a hard road, but knowing that Leander, Callan, Ziggy, and Balor are around gives me the space to breathe. I’m able to watch her from a distance without the constant worry of danger lurking around every corner. Callan, is a stickler for schedules and structure, decided we’d hold her first-year courses here at home rather than at Shadowcarve. It makesno sense to throw her in with the second-year students after what happened. She’s the only surviving member of her class.

Right now, Callan has her seated at the table, handing over the assessment test for the second-years, trying to gauge if she even needs to take those classes next year. I can’t help the smirk pulling at my lips. If only he knew how unnecessary this whole thing is. But then again, it’s Callan. He’s probably doing it for the peace of mind more than anything.

“I don’t understand the point of this, Cal.” Mina’s voice carries a hint of exasperation as she drops the test onto the table in front of him with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Challenge me. Don’t insult my intelligence.” She leans back in her seat, the egg carrier strapped securely to her chest, and resumes stroking the shell for what must be the hundredth time today.

Callan’s brow furrows, the lines on his face deepening as he picks up the papers. “There’s no way you’re done with the test already.” His voice is already laced with disbelief. He flips through the pages with a quick, practiced motion, his eyes scanning over the answers. I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he processes what he’s seeing. Then, his gaze shifts from the papers to me, and then over to Leander. “She’s done. How in the nine hells is that possible?”

I can’t help the proud smile that spreads across my face. “She’s insanely intelligent.” I tilt my head to the side and wink at Mina, who gives me a small, amused smirk in return. It’s been almost a week since she was chosen by the red egg, and she won’t leave it alone for more than a few moments. Any attempt at getting some alone time is impossible unless she convinces one of the guys to babysit it for her. To date, I owe every one of them at least a bottle of their favorite liquor for watching the egg and giving us a few precious moments together.

“Perfect score, Willa...” Callan murmurs, the faintest hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. He’s the only one who insists on using her full name, having shortened it differently than the rest of us. The affection in his voice is unmistakable.

Mina cocks her head at him, her eyes sharp. “As if we expected anything less. So now I get to skip my second-year courses with you?” Her tone is casual, but I catch the flicker of something else—something harder, colder—crossing Callan’s expression. It’s there and gone in a second, but I see it. He shifts his gaze away from her, his posture stiffening.

Shit.I clear my throat, stepping in before this can spiral any further. “What she means is, does she get to skip to the third-year courses?” My voice is calm, even, but my eyes are locked onto Mina’s. She whips around to face me, her gaze widening slightly in realization.

Oh shit, she mouths, her shoulders sagging as she realizes how her words might have come across.

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