Page 20 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
“Mina, did you change your schedule?” he asks.
My stomach knots. “Yes. I felt with how I want to live my life, some classes are needed more than others.” Reaching into my backpack, I pull out several folded sheets of paper, smoothing their edges on the counter. “Tactically, I want to rebuild what’s left of my father’s home at the base of the mountain.”
“But you hate that place,” Balor says, handing me a mug of coffee. The steam rises in delicate curls, and the first sip is a welcome burst of bitterness on my tongue.
“I do, and I will never live there. But we need a place to hold functions and house others that wish to join my flight. Like Cora and her dipshit mate.” Ziggy unfolds my rough drawings on the table. Pencil marks outline the broken walls and potential expansions. “They need a place to live, and it’s not with me in my home.”
“Cora and her mate will never be able to defend themselves. At least in my territory, they can feel safe. Selfishly, I’ll have my nephew close.” I lift my chin, challenging anyone to argue.
“Do you think she’ll accept?” Abraxis arches a brow.
I slide a piece of correspondence between me and his sister across the table. “She and Warwick accept, and his family offers to help with construction.” Finishing my coffee, I savor the last bitter dregs. “Warwick’s people are already on site, starting renovations in the lower living spaces. It’s the tithe I require for them to be under our protection.”
Setting my mug down, I catch the faint aroma of spiced coffee rising from its contents—earthy and a little bitter, though it does nothingto soothe me. My fingers tremble with pent-up energy as I stare at my hand, watching my nails lengthen into razor-edged talons. The dim light in the kitchen casts flickering shadows on the worn wooden table, and a low, involuntary growl rumbles from deep in my chest, reverberating through my ribs.
“They wish to discuss a betrothal.” The words taste foul on my tongue. My lips peel back in a silent snarl, and I’m acutely aware of how the skin around my mouth stretches taut. “I told them they can petition for the hand of one of my children when they are old enough to make their own decisions.” My gaze locks with Klauth’s. His eyes flick with silent acknowledgment, and he gives me a terse nod of approval. The slight shift in his stance and the faint heat radiating from him help quell the prickling tension beneath my skin.
“But that’s not how it’s done,” Abraxis says as he steps closer, gently enclosing my taloned hands in his. His touch is warm and firm, the calluses on his palms rasping against my skin.
“That’s how it will be done,” I snarl, voice rough, “or they will deal with my rage.” A spike of pressure ripples across my cheeks and brow, and I feel the bone plates shift in my face. My snarl intensifies. “I will not risk binding one of my daughters with a male who is unworthy.”
The protest in my throat rises again until I feel Klauth’s mouth clamp down on his mate mark on my neck. His growl resonates against my skin, sending a shiver across my shoulders. The faint coppery tang of blood fills my nostrils as my scales brush against his teeth—his way of grounding me.
‘Settle, mate. I agree with you. The youngling will have to deal with your decisions, or you simply don’t let him have a hatchling.’Klauth’s presence in my mind soothes me like a gentle hum. I exhale slowly, letting the tension slip from my muscles. I retract my talons and force the growl to fade. The moment he feels me tilt my head insubmission, he finally releases his grip. I can still feel the warmth of his breath against my neck.
“You and Mina were lucky you were mates,” Leander says, stepping forward with a steaming veggie omelet that smells of peppers and fresh herbs. There’s a wistful undertone to his voice. “I can’t imagine allowing my daughter to enter a contract with a male she doesn’t love.” He offers me the plate, and my stomach rumbles in response—my appetite returning now that my anger has slightly cooled.
“You were ready to hide your sister from Attor,” Balor reminds Abraxis, his voice low as he moves between the two of us like a living barrier. “You wanted her to have the same experience you did—finding your mate.”
Abraxis sighs, dipping his head. “Traditions are hard to break when it’s all you’ve known.” His words are almost lost beneath the distant clatter of dishes and hushed whispers in the corridor beyond.
Klauth shifts behind me and places a reassuring hand on Abraxis’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “Change only happens when you fight for it. Otherwise, history is doomed to repeat itself.”
The room is still, the air thick with the aftertaste of our heated discussion. I breathe in slowly, letting the tension drain, and allow the comforting scents of spiced coffee and warm food to settle over me like a tentative peace.
I finish my breakfast,savoring the last bite of warm toast slathered with rich butter, the salty sweetness lingering on my tongue. The faint scent of eggs and bacon still hangs in the air, mingling with the crisp morning chill that seeps in from the open window. Rising from the table, I move to kiss all of my mates goodbye, enjoying the mix ofscents—warm fur, cool scales, rough stone—each one a distinct reminder of whom I’m leaving behind.
“Come on, Klauth. Let’s get me to class.” My voice echoes softly in the living room. Daylight spills in through tall windows, catching the swirling dust motes, and casts long shadows across Vaughn’s stony form in the corner.
“He’s taking you?” Abraxis asks, stepping closer. I catch the faint, musky scent of his skin—dark and alluring.
“You, Callan, and Balor all have classes all day,” I say with a resigned sigh, running a hand over my notebooks. “Leander has midday classes to teach, Ziggy too. Vaughn can’t be in my class because…” I gesture at his rigid silhouette. “He’s a giant paperweight right now.”
“Do you have a clue where his amulet is?” Ziggy’s voice carries a note of worry, and I arch a brow.
“I haven’t been able to see it. I’ve tried,” I admit, tucking my notebooks—edges still sharp and pages smelling of fresh ink—into my backpack. My new pens and pencils clatter softly as I slide them into the side pocket. “I’ll find it eventually,” I add, determination prickling my skin.
From the kitchen counter, I pluck two apples, their cool skins glossy beneath my fingertips, and drop them into the outer pouch of my bag. My gaze lingers on the egg carrier; I slip it on and buckle it snugly, feeling a reassuring warmth where the egg rests close to my body. A soft rustle of fabric greets me as I pull my jacket over both me and the egg and zip it up.
“See everyone later.” With a wave, I head for the door, Klauth’s presence solid and comforting at my side. His warmth contrasts with the chill of the hallway beyond.
“Where to, my treasure?” He takes my hand, the roughness of his calluses against my palm sending a pleasant shiver up my arm.
“Arcanum campus for the science class.” I pull my schedule from my pocket, the paper crackling as I unfold it. “Apparently, it’s the science of mate selection and pheromones.” I can’t help the wry smirk curling my lips. “Yet another pointless class for me. I have my mates and one on the way.” My hand drifts to the egg carrier, and I smile down at my jacket, feeling the reassuring weight.
“They have to teach about mates and pheromones? Whatever happened to dragon instincts?” Klauth shakes his head, amusement rumbling in his chest before he leans down and brushes his lips over my forehead. A spark of his warmth lingers on my skin. “Let’s see what this institution offers.”
We leave Malivore and walk by the lake shore, the air cool and carrying the briny scent of the Sea of Whispers. Gulls circle overhead, their distant cries echoing across the water. The shoreline is smooth, pebbled, with black stones that crunch under our feet as we head toward the southern dorms. Cutting past the cove, we take a turn northeast. The breeze picks up, rustling the leaves in nearby trees—a gentle hush that brushes my hair away from my cheeks.
