Page 9 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
He takes the bottle, lifts it to his nose, and inhales deeply before taking a swig. The hush in the room is broken by the faint hiss of carbonation and the low rumble in his chest. “I missed beer … This is better than I remember it.” Another high-pitched squeal comes from the bathroom, followed by a splash. Klauth chuckles, the rich sound vibrating through the living area. “The displacer beast is with her?” He settles onto the arm of the couch as if he’s perched on a throne.
“Yeah, Mina gets a little worked up after a fight.” I tip my bottle toward Abraxis. My pulse quickens at the memory of her roaring in the training ring. “When we’ve sparred most of the day, he’s the only one she’ll seek because she’s borderline feral. He can use his scales to protect himself.”
Klauth’s gaze shifts to Abraxis, curiosity lighting up his eyes. “Feral? Like aggressive?” He levels him with a piercing look. “Please tell me you have made her submit during her yearly.”
Abraxis tilts his head. His voice hushed, as though reluctant to recount the memory. “The first year, yes—we expected it. She was still smaller than me then. This past cycle it took me, my dad, and Balor coiling around her neck just to get her to pass out so we could give her the tonic.” Vaughn hands him a cold beer, the bottle already sweating from the room’s warmth. Abraxis takes a sip, and then a moment of realization flares across his face. “Oh shit, I wasn’t strong enough to get her to submit.” His gaze snaps anxiously around the room.
Klauth just exhales through his nose, disapproval darkening his features. “We’re going to have our work cut out for us this year.” He shakes his head again. “By my calculations, in the next few months—after we complete our bond—she will cycle again. It won’t be yearly anymore; it’ll become bi-yearly because there are two viable drakes.” The subtle scrape of his fingers against the couch makes my skin prickle. “The stronger she becomes, the less likely the tonic or implant will work.” He fixes us all with a stern stare, the unspoken commandto listen echoing in the hush. “If it’s timed right, she’ll lay eggs over the break according to your calendar over there.” He gestures at the wall where a monthly planner hangs, pages curling at the corners.
“So … what happens after she lays her eggs?” I step closer, the laminate floor squeaking beneath my boots, trying to absorb every word. My heartbeat thrums in my ears at the thought of Mina and eggs—how it all might change our future.
“She will entrust her mate to guard them when she’s not present.” Klauth’s voice is soft yet resolute. “The best part is, she won’t cycle again unless she wants to, after the first clutch. Her body becomes her own to control.”
A soft click draws our attention. The bathroom door opens, and Mina steps out, wrapped in a towel, steam rolling out behind her. She briefly meets our gaze; I notice her wet hair clinging to her shoulders and the faint flush on her cheeks. Water droplets glisten on her collarbone under the overhead lights. She simply nods and then disappears into her bedroom, presumably to get dressed.
Ziggy shuffles into view next. His hair is a tangled mess, plastered awkwardly on his forehead. He’s got multiple bite marks lining both shoulders, and when he turns his back, I see fresh sets of talon marks clawed into his skin. The metallic scent of blood mixes with the warm air, and I resist the urge to cringe.
Klauth arches a brow at the sight. “I see what you mean—she gets aggressive. That’s what happens when a young dragoness isn’t settled into her nest like she should be. The urge to mark repeatedly means she’s anxious about something.” He shifts his gaze to Abraxis.
Abraxis sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as though remembering similar marks of his own. “Her biggest fear is having the eggs stolen. Well, egg. I mean Thauglor,” he clarifies with a small shrug.
“There’s something else,” Klauth begins, but his words are cut short. Mina reenters, and when she looks at us, her eyes are glowing. It’s the same eerie luminescence I’ve seen before, a sign she’s tapped into her deeper instincts.
I close the distance and guide her into the nearest chair, resting a hand on her shoulder. My skin prickles from the electric charge of her aura. “Lysander is coming with the elders to see the eggs,” she relays quietly.
Mina’s eyes shift back to normal as she blinks. She glances swiftly between Vaughn and Ziggy. “Get Klauth’s shell as fast as you can.” Her voice trembles with urgency, and Ziggy disappears down the hall in a flash. Meanwhile, Mina darts into her small poison garden—a cramped alcove near the patio door where the pungent scent of spiky vines and poisonous blossoms is almost overwhelming.
She returns with Thauglor’s egg cradled to her chest, eyes glowing once more as she cradles it like a precious gem. Only a heartbeat passes before Ziggy appears, holding the pieces of Klauth’s old shell. Mina’s movements are swift and sure as she glues them together, then nestles the reassembled shell alongside Thauglor on top of the pillow she uses. The heavy atmosphere presses down on us all—tension, concern, and a fierce protectiveness swirling in the air.
I can feel my pulse racing, blood pounding in my ears at the sight of that egg. Though there’s no magic here, the primal sense of danger and uncertainty is as thick as the shadows that cling to the corners of the dorm’s walls. If Lysander and the elders are coming, we have precious little time to ensure Mina’s precious cargo remains safe.
CHAPTER 5
Mina
I feelthe ambient chill of the academy pressing against me as I study the dull red egg in my hands. You don’t win five gauntlets and not expect to be investigated by the elders—and by Lysander. The overhead lights flicker with an uneven hum, casting jittery shadows along the walls. He’s up to something. I just can’t put my finger on it yet. My pulse thrums in my ears as I pour a precise amount of coarse gardening sand into Klauth’s hollowed egg. The gritty texture against my fingertips sends a shiver through me.
I rub a thin line of glue around the fractured edges and blow a soft, controlled breath to seal it, feeling the faint warmth of my exhale. The smell of the adhesive is sharp, but I push past the sting in my nostrils. By the time I’m done, the egg looks untouched—no visible cracks, no sign it was ever tampered with. I test its weight in my palms, comparing it to Thauglor’s egg in my mind. It’s identical enough that if they weigh it, they won’t know any different.
A pang of regret stirs in my chest as I place the now-lusterless red egg on a velvet pillow. The overhead lighting washes out its color,making the shell appear even more lifeless. My gaze lingers. “Mate?” Klauth’s voice rumbles softly behind me, low and full of concern.
“I need him to believe you went dormant,” I murmur, voice wavering just enough to play the part. “Step into my room and wait. He’ll take the egg back to the chamber and be happy I have one less egg for him to worry about.” I glance up at Klauth, forcing a small smile. His skin is warm to the touch as he bends down, his hand slipping around my throat in a gentle squeeze that sends a dark thrill through me. He kisses me—brief, possessive—before disappearing into my room.
Silence settles like dust motes in the lamplit air until the knock I’ve been expecting raps against the wooden door. The hollow echo disrupts my breath; I let my eyes burn with tears. My mind flicks to the memory of my father killing me. That cold, helpless feeling makes the tears spill faster. Reaching out, I brush my fingertips over the egg’s rough shell, letting my despair radiate.
‘Mate, are you okay? Do you need me?’Klauth’s voice resonates gently in my head, a calming pressure against the panic.
‘It’s an act,’I answer, working to keep the grief in my expression. ‘They need to believe you went dormant. I’m forcing myself to cry over a failure.’
My throat tightens around a fresh sob right as Lysander steps inside. There’s a subtle, almost reptilian hiss in the way he breathes, and I catch a whiff of something metallic—like old coins—on the air. “Miss Mina? Is something wrong with the red egg?” His feral smile stretches across his thin lips. He’s enjoying this far too much.
“He went dormant while I ran the gauntlet…” I sniffle, thinking about my mother’s rejection of me because of my scale color. The heartbreak of that memory fuels my tears. They slip hot and fast down my cheeks.
“Then I shall return him to the chamber.” Lysander tilts his head,and his basilisk eyes flash as they lock onto mine. “I told you not to pick him. He never chooses anyone.”
He flicks his gaze down, tries his stone gaze. It fails, just as I knew it would. “You do realize your stone gaze doesn’t work on me.” My words come out rough, heavy with the residual ache of crying. He blinks twice, a twitch of surprise, then reaches for the pillow.
“Why not give me the black egg as well? I’ll take them back to their resting place.” He shoves the pillow nearer, the red egg perched precariously atop. Iris—the small, ever-watchful creature that she is—alights on my shoulder with a brief rustle of scales. There’s a crackle in the air around her, a faint scent of ozone that prickles the back of my throat. Iris’s tail coils tightly around my neck as I stare at the headmaster.
