Page 33 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
“Yeah,” Mina says, untying a small scroll from the eagle’s leg. “Since emails and texts can be intercepted, we’ve switched to using our familiars.” She unrolls the parchment and skims the contents, her expression unreadable. “Perfect. Your dad’s sharing his plans for his home with the contractors. I already gave Vox a list of things from your father’s estate that I want in mine.” She hands me the note, scribbles a reply of her own, and secures it back to the eagle’s leg. It takes off silently, leaving a swirl of loose feathers drifting to the floor.
“When were you going to tell me about all this?” I snap, my pulse hammering. I hate being in the dark—it makes me feel powerless.
Mina’s eyes flash, her pupils contracting to dangerous slits. “Look at your messages, Mr. Havock.” Her voice carries a low, dragonic growl, and the hair on my arms stands on end. Hastily, I pull out my phone. It’s still on silent from this morning’s therapy session. My stomach drops when I see a dozen missed messages in the family chat—exactly what I needed to stay informed.
“I’m sorry, Mina,” I mutter, lowering my head. “I messed up. My phone was on silent for therapy. I’ve been going every day these past four days … trying to be a better mate and bond brother.” Shame coils in my gut, and I feel my wings droop.
Mina steps closer, lowering her head until our gazes meet. “I’m proud of you, Abraxis, for going.” Her tone softens. “I didn’t want to push you, because I know you’re sensitive about being seen as weak.” She nudges Klauth with her elbow, eyes shining with amusement. “Guess what? He started therapy yesterday, too. Klauth, you need to head there now if you don’t want to be late. Love you.” She leans up and kisses him, sending him on his way.
“I’m going to finish up with Balor, then we’ll head home.” Mina turns to me with a gentle smile. “Do me a favor and start some steaks, maybe?” That small gesture—a simple request—warms me from the inside. Despite everything, the tension in my chest eases, and for a moment, the world feels right again.
CHAPTER 18
Mina
The Winter Formalis fast approaching, and the entire academy practically vibrates with excitement. A persistent hum of speculation weaves through the corridors, mingling with the sharp smell of disinfectant that clings to every polished surface. Rumor has it a new king for the continent will be named and crowned at the event. Only a hundred and fifty invitations are up for grabs, and the weight of that exclusivity settles over everyone like a thick fog. Over the last two weeks, I spend more hours than ever in the temple—its cold stone floors and flickering lantern light remind me of ancient secrets—trying to prepare for whatever comes next.
By contrast, science class feels mundane. The overhead lights buzz softly, and the stale odor of old textbooks mixes with the chemical tang left over from someone’s lab experiment. I fight a yawn, wishing I were back in the temple or studying poisons with Balor or refining my personal rituals for the coronation with Ziggy’s help. On the days I have Balor’s poisons class, Ziggy often whisks some of us away to the temple for lessons, and I’d give anything to be there right now.
I sigh, thinking about how I’ve been relying on Abraxis’s mom in my mother’s absence. She’s been phenomenal through all of this—patient, knowledgeable, and far less judgmental than I expected. Still, part of me aches for my actual mother’s presence.
“Mr. Martz…” Arista’s smooth, calculated voice drifts across the amphitheater. A flicker of mischief lights her eyes, and I tense against the cold, hard edge of my desk.
“What is it, Arista?” Mr. Martz asks, turning away from the projection of a dragon’s nasal plates flickering on the screen at the front of the room.
“Is it true that only pure bloods are being invited?” Arista’s tone drips with faux innocence as she tosses a glance over her shoulder at me. “And the new king will look for a female to be his?” Her eyes narrow, and I have to stifle the urge to let my power crackle in the surrounding air. I want to roast her where she stands.
“There are several requirements for the invitation,” Kai chimes in from the front row, his voice echoing off the high walls. “But being pure blood isn’t one of them. And from the missive, the future king already has a powerful mate. He’s not looking for another.”
“Hear that, Mina?” Arista taunts, her gaze swirling with the fire of her drake. “No chance you’re going, nor will you horde another male for your collection.”
Balor’s warm laugh resonates against my back as he lounges beside me. The faint scent of leather wafts over me from his fighting leathers. “I’d be more worried about the third-year purge than the formal if I were you,” he says, kicking his feet onto the seat in front of us and leaning back.
Mr. Martz sighs at the flickering projector. “Care to come down and explain that to the class, Mr. Husk, while I fight with this blasted machine?”
“Gladly.” Balor stands, the heavy clunking of his boots echoing in the amphitheater. My eyes follow the broad line of his shoulders, and I catch the glint of my mate mark on his neck.
“The third-year purge is a single night,” he begins, voice low and confident, “when all vendettas can be settled without repercussions. Diplomatic immunity doesn’t apply, even if you have it. It happens the night before winter break, so be ready.” He smirks as Arista’s face pales.
A male two rows back from Arista’s group raises his hand, voice cracking with interest. “Faculty isn’t allowed to interfere, right?”
“Correct,” Balor replies. “As much as some of us might like to strangle the life out of you, we can’t join in or provide shelter.” He crosses his arms, and the leather strains, reminding me of the raw power he keeps so carefully leashed.
“What’s the containment area?” I ask, imagining Arista’s entire nest quivering under my wrath.
“The campus,” Balor says. “Staff will be relegated to the healers’ quadrant or staff housing. All kills must be reported to one of the approved teachers.” He scribbles a list across the board. None of my mates’ names are on it. “That’s all.” He climbs back up the steps, each footstep reverberating through the silent room, and settles next to me again.
“Interesting post-birthday present,” I muse, drumming my fingers lightly on the worn armrest. I know the others have probably forgotten my birthday with everything going on, but I also know that Balor’s is tomorrow. I already have a plan for him.
“Every three years, the third-year purge happens,” he murmurs, bending close to brush a kiss across my temple. “We’re just lucky it’s near your birthday.”
My hand drifts to Thauglor’s carrier, my fingertips tracing the soft fabric. Soon, mate number eight will hatch, and our family will finally be complete. “I’m leaving Thauglor with you for the purge,” I say, my lips curling into a feral grin.
Balor snorts. “Oh boy, that look tells me something just clicked for you.”
“Klauth isn’t staff…” The whisper of an idea grows in my mind, and I can’t contain a low chuckle as the rest of Mr. Martz’s lecture passes in a blur. There’s a buzzing in my veins now—the same electric anticipation that comes every time I’m granted free rein.
I mentally start my list. Names, faces, all the ones I want to tear apart. Year three means student against student, and from what I’ve seen at this academy, they aren’t kidding around. The night before winter break can’t come soon enough.
