Page 15 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
I linger, staring at the closed door, then make my way back to my bedroom. The hallway is dim, the single light overhead flickering. Before I can so much as slide under the blanket, a familiar caress along the bond makes me shiver. Mina’s summoning me; her desire to come home feels like a gentle tug at my ribcage.
I phase again, that swift moment of disorientation hitting me, and land just inside the cavern she shares with Klauth. The space smells of warm skin and lingering passion—an intangible mix of musk that makes my throat tighten. They’re getting dressed, and I manage a wide grin.
“Ta-da! I have arrived.” My voice wobbles slightly as I take in Klauth. There’s not a single scratch on him, not even a bruise. “You’re not torn to shreds?” I circle him, eyes narrowed. “Not a single bite.”
Klauth’s gaze follows me. “Is there something wrong, Zigmander?” He sounds genuinely puzzled, but his posture is casual, maybe even smug.
Mina’s cheeks flush. She turns her head away, her hair spilling over her shoulder. His mark on her neck stands out—freshly bitten multiple times, each layer of scar tissue raised. “I asked to have the implant taken out, Ziggy,” she says softly. “I want my first clutch … so we don’t have to keep forcing me to sleep when I go feral from my yearly.”
A tightness grips my chest. “Is that true?” I search her face. “Will she be able to control when she’s fertile after she has her first clutch?” My voice lowers, mind racing. The memory of Mina’s feral side, wild and untamed, still sends shivers along my arms.
Klauth adjusts the collar of his shirt. “The older bloodlines—ancient, powerful dragonesses—can control their cycles after laying eggs as their dragons. Many females lost that ability by giving birth in human form.”
Mina steps into the sundress I packed for her, the light fabric draping over her scales. When she moves, the plates over her shoulder blades and spine catch the overhead light, reflecting a pearly sheen. They spread out at her hips and backside in what almost looks like butterfly wings, mesmerizing in their shifting pattern.
“The reason I’m here,” I say, regaining my composure, “is we have to go to Blackhaven. Cora’s egg hatched, and the anointing is today.”
Mina’s eyes light up as she squeals, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The rocks crunch under her shoes. “I can’t wait to see the little one,” she exclaims, darting over to Klauth. “I helped deliver her egg. Cora was egg-bound and tore some. I stitched her back up and saved both her and the egg.” Her smile is so radiant it makes the corners of my own lips twitch upward.
“Are you feeling okay, Mina?” I ask, taking the bag she hands me. The weight of it drags down my arm, but I hold steady.
She bites her bottom lip, then meets my gaze. “I don’t want to be a weapon anymore,” she admits, voice hushed like she’s sharing a secret. “I enjoy being a tactician. I just don’t want to fight if I don’t have to.”
Her words hang in the charged air before she freezes, glancing between me and Klauth. “Abraxis will not be happy. I was bred to be the weapon my betrothed would wield.” Her eyes dart around the cavern, searching for threats where there are none.
“Mate.” Klauth’s tone is firm, each syllable resonating with a deep rumble. “If he loves you as much as you say he does, it won’t be an issue.” A wicked grin stretches across his face, revealing his teeth. The heat in his gaze feels like the sudden flare of a furnace. “If it is anissue, the hatchling and I will have a very long, very painful conversation.” He cracks his knuckles, the sound loud in the quiet.
I swallow hard, the tension thick enough to taste in the back of my throat. His threat is clear, and I can only hope Abraxis knows how to bite his tongue. If he doesn’t, this day could take an even darker turn—one we might not recover from.
A few hours later…
I watch Mina sweep past us, the soft rustle of her gown and the tap of her heels on the cold marble floor echoing in the hallway. She clutches the box from the counter, her knuckles tight around it as she slips into her room. A faint click of the latch follows, and I release a slow breath, the tension in my chest loosening just a little. The air here always seems tinged with a metallic chill, a constant reminder that this academy is more fortress than school.
I shift my gaze to Abraxis, who’s standing under the dim glow of a single overhead light. Shadows cling to the angles of his face. “Mina doesn’t want to fight anymore,” I whisper. My words feel heavy, like the weight of old tomes in the academy’s ancient library. “It was her father’s goal for her to be a fighter, but she’d rather be a tactician.” The smell of fresh coffee wafts by—dark and bitter—reminding me that the taste of conflict still lingers in the air.
Abraxis’s eyes flick from Mina’s door back to me. The tension in his shoulders ebbs as he exhales, almost as if he’s been holding his breath for days. “I was so worried about her joining the battles,” he murmurs. “She’s powerful, especially with that breath weapon of hers.” His voice resonates through the quiet room, and I can’t helpbut notice how his hand curls around the edge of the counter, fingertips tapping a restless rhythm.
Klauth and Balor draw closer, their footsteps resonating against the tile. The faint clink of cups meeting saucers cuts through the hush as Balor slides a steaming mug of coffee toward Klauth. “If it makes her happy to be in the planning room with Callan, then that’s what will happen,” Abraxis says, a small smile playing across his lips.
“I’m glad you’re putting our young mate’s desires before your needs, hatchling,” Klauth adds, taking a careful sip of his drink. I catch a whiff of the coffee’s strong aroma, which mingles with Klauth’s lingering smoky scent—a telltale sign of his dragon close to the surface.
Abraxis bristles at the word “hatchling,” color flooding his cheeks. “Why do you keep calling me hatchling? I am a grown man.” His voice reverberates in the kitchen, the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead doing little to soften the edge in his tone.
Klauth, unruffled, lifts his chin. “Fine, I will call you youngling. Which is accurate since you are not yet over a century old.” His stare bores into Abraxis, cool and condescending.
With a sharp huff, Abraxis turns and strides out, his heels striking against the floor in a staccato beat that gradually fades down the corridor. The air feels a little clearer once he’s gone, as if he took some of the tension with him.
Moments later, Callan enters. The subtle scent of starched fabric reaches my nose before I fully register his pewter suit, a touch of green in the pocket square honoring Mina’s scales. “I left a suit for you on Mina’s bed, Klauth,” he says politely, giving a small bow. “Based on the measurements our mate took for your clothing.”
“Thank you,” Klauth replies, inclining his head. “I appreciate your forethought, Callan.” Then he crosses the room, disappearing through the door that leads to Mina’s quarters.
A hush settles over the space again. The overhead light flickers once, casting quick shadows over the counters. My heart thuds a little faster with anticipation. Whatever Mina’s planning to wear, she always has a way of commanding attention without trying.
And then she appears. The door opens, and she steps out in a shimmering silver strapless gown that moves like liquid mercury around her body. The satin ties in the back catch the light, revealing glimpses of the iridescent scales trailing down her spine and across her shoulder blades. A faint metallic scent rises from her, reminding me of the strength coiled beneath her delicate exterior. She looks regal and dangerous, a perfect reflection of what lurks behind these academy walls—and in the hearts of those who live within them.
CHAPTER 9
Mina
