Page 53 of Trial of the Cursed Egg

My anger surges, heat radiating from my skin. Klauth’s egg glows brighter in response, the heat building until I’m sure I’ll sear the chair’s fabric beneath me. The red hue pulses, its light washing overthe walls like bloodstains spreading in time with my pounding heartbeat.

Reluctantly, I move toward the front of the classroom, Callan’s hand still in mine. Each step feels like a declaration of war. I can practically taste the unease rolling off the other students as I pass. Some lean back, their faces paling as the heat radiates from me in waves. But I keep my chin high, letting them feel the weight of my power, of the bond that refuses to be broken or dismissed.

Klauth’s egg continues to pulse, its light reflecting off the polished surfaces of the classroom, casting strange shadows that dance and writhe like living things. The heat intensifies as I step up beside Kai, my eyes never leaving his face.

“Happy now?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend. The tension in the room thickens, my words hanging in the air like a challenge. I can’t afford to show fear. Not here. Not with so many eyes watching.

Kai’s gaze flickers to the egg in my hands, his lips tightening. “Very. Thank you, Miss Bladesong.” He turns to address the class, but I can feel it—the subtle shift in his energy, the way his focus sharpens on me for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

My jaw clenches, and I force myself to breathe, to focus. I’m not the one they should be worried about right now. But by the way Klauth’s egg vibrates in my grip, its warmth bleeding into my palms, I can tell that’s about to change.

We spend the rest of class dissecting the ruthless history of Klauth—the wars he waged, the empires he razed, and the reason for hisimprisonment. With his rare titanium bloodline intertwined with the power of his red dragon heritage, he’s nothing less than a living war machine. He has been locked away for a thousand years, his formidable strength feared by all. In that time, no one—not a single soul—has been deemed worthy by him.

Until me.

My fingers tighten around the smooth, crimson surface of the egg, its heat thrumming against my palms like a heartbeat. “Why do you think the red egg chose Willamina?” Kai asks, his voice slicing through the tension in the room.

Hands shoot up immediately, the air buzzing with anticipation. Of course, Ardent—one of Arista’s fire drakes—waves her hand almost violently, eager to be noticed. When Kai finally calls on her, she stands, her expression a mask of superiority and barely contained malice.

“I have several guesses,” she announces, her voice sickly sweet, yet sharp enough to cut. “The first: they’re both mixed-breed freaks that shouldn’t exist. The second is that they have a tendency to take things that don’t belong to them.”

Smug satisfaction oozes from her every word, and she sinks back into her seat with a self-satisfied smile. The silence that follows is heavy, filled with expectant stares, the kind that wants to see me falter. But I don’t. I laugh instead, a soft, dangerous sound that seems to echo against the classroom’s stone walls.

“Your nest mother tried touching Abraxis and puked her guts up.” My voice is a low purr, each word precise and cutting. “It was witnessed by the Malivore Conservatory and confirmed by our headmaster.”

Ardent’s smile falters, and I let mine grow wider, sharper. I shift my gaze down to the egg nestled protectively in my arms and stroke the smooth shell, feeling the latent power coiling beneath it, ready to be unleashed. “I’d rather be a mixed-breed freak than an inbred pureblood any day,” I say quietly, but the words carry.

A murmur of shock ripples through the class, and I glance at Callan, who coughs uncomfortably, a silent warning for me to tread carefully. But I’m past the point of caution.

“And you,” I continue, fixing my gaze back on Ardent, letting my stare bore into her, “judging by that brown belt you’re wearing, you’re not even worth my time. How far did you get in the gauntlet? Three or four steps? None of the fire drakes made it more than ten percent through it.”

Her face burns red, the scales at her temples flaring in anger, but she keeps quiet. There’s nothing she can say to refute the truth. I caress the egg carrier one last time, feeling Klauth’s dormant energy pulse in response to my touch. It’s almost as if he’s laughing with me, a low, dangerous rumble of approval.

“We’re done here,” I say, turning my gaze to Kai. He blinks, hesitating for a moment, then nods. Without another word, Callan leads me through the teacher’s exit at the front of the classroom.

As the door closes behind us, I can still feel Ardent’s glare burning into my back. But I don’t care. Klauth chose me for a reason. And one day, everyone will understand exactly what that reason is. I have a feeling he may be what we need to fix some of the things broken in dragonic society. From what I had read, he was against the forced betrothal system and the having to keep the bloodlines pure. He knew what it was doing to the species as a whole. Let’s face it, the purebloodlines are smaller and not as resilient as those of us of mixed origins. He was onto something over a thousand years ago. I can only hope I get him to find his human side when he hatches or we’re in deep shit.

Callan

My mate is goingto be the death of me. Every nerve I have is on edge as we walk across campus, the crisp autumn breeze doing little to calm my racing pulse. The tension in Willa’s shoulders melts away with each step, the lingering storm in her eyes dissipating like mist in the morning sun. But I can’t shake the memory of her earlier rage, the way her entire being crackled with power that could have easily turned this place to ash. Yet now, she’s a picture of tranquility as we approach the gardens where Nigel holds his classes.

Rows of easels are scattered across the lawn like soldiers awaiting orders, their blank canvases stark white against the lush green backdrop. Willa chooses the spot closest to the cherry blossom trees, the petals overhead swaying softly in the breeze. She moves with a grace that belies the turmoil I know she still carries inside, setting up her supplies with the steady hands of someone determined to keep that darkness at bay.

“You amaze me, Willa,” I murmur, unable to keep the admiration from my voice.

She pauses, turning on her stool to face me. A delicate brow arched in question. “What do you mean?”

“You go from ready to destroy the world to calm and peaceful in record time,” I say, slipping a book out of my bag to give my hands something to do. “Most female dragons take days to calm down after a flare-up like that.”

Willa’s gaze shifts downwards, her fingers absently adjusting the strap of the egg carrier on her chest. My chest tightens as I catch a glimpse of the red egg nestled within. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft, tinged with a sorrow that cuts through the quiet peace of the garden.

“It’s more of a learned response,” she sighs, unbuttoning the flap to look at the precious cargo inside. “If I stayed angry, my father would make me run the gauntlet until the anger was gone. Sometimes it took the entire afternoon. Other times … a full day or more. He and his commanders would take turns watching me, making sure I didn’t rest or stop. They’d give me food, drink, and bathroom breaks—but that was the only kindness they showed.”

My grip tightens on the book, nails digging into the cover as a swell of fury surges within me. Her words are so matter-of-fact, like it’s something she’s long accepted. I see the shadow in her eyes, the haunted look that flickers there before she glances up at me. I wish I could go back in time, rip through every barrier, and tear those bastards apart for the way they broke her. Instead, I take a breath and push the rage down. Right now, she needs something else from me—someone to remind her of where she is, who she is now.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” I say softly, forcing my voice to remain steady. “You’re free now, Willa. You’re loved and safe.”

Her lips twitch into a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She nods, a stiff, almost mechanical movement that feels like a thousand miles away from the calm she’s trying to project. Before I can say more, Nigel steps to the front of the class, his gaze sweeping over the students.

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