Page 25 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
Willamina Ragnar
Willamina Whitlocke
A comforting warmthspreads through my lower back as Klauth rubs gentle circles there, his touch effortlessly calming the tight coil of anxiety in my belly. I can sense the faint heat his dragon form radiates even in this human guise; it’s like standing near the mouth of a forge.
“I can’t decide,” I sigh, my exhale catching the faint scent of old paper and dust. Klauth leans closer to peer at the two names I’ve painstakingly circled.
He inclines his head toward the full sheet with all eight surnames, the overhead lights reflecting off the paper. “I recognize three of these. Which mate is Whitlocke?”
“Callan, the gryphon,” I say quietly, letting my pen drag over the sheet in a slow, deliberate line. I write it out once more. Then, Iscribble a quick note withRagnarat the end of my name and stare at the result, my heart thumping as I weigh each option.
Klauth’s gaze sweeps over my scrawl. “He has a very aristocratic surname. If I wasn’t concerned about how the other dragon dens would take it, I would say choose his.” His remark surprises me. The subtle dryness of his voice mixes with a warmth that is entirely his own.
I turn in my chair—a slightly stiff, squeaking auditorium seat—to look at him. “We’d have to announce your awakening if I use yours.” I rest my palm against his cheek, the skin there so much hotter than mine, and look up into his crimson-flecked amber eyes.
“Our bond would have to be acknowledged by the temple of Bahamut,” he says softly, “as well as the others in the bond.” His gaze drops to an ancient ring on his pinky. The metal is darkened in places, tiny etched symbols winding around the band. He slides it off his pinky finger and onto my ring finger. It’s snug, but oddly comfortable, like it’s molding itself to me. “That’s the royal seal of my bloodline. My family line ended when I went into the cursed egg. It will be reborn through you.” He leans down to kiss me, the press of his lips igniting a spark that chases away the stale air of the classroom. I find myself sinking into that moment of warmth, letting out a soft sigh.
A sudden voice slices through the room. “Miss Havock, do I need to call the general and tell him about your indiscretions?” Finlay’s sharp tone booms from the front of the auditorium, and I feel the weight of every classmate’s gaze fall on Klauth and me in the back row.
I straighten, the seat squeaking as I shift. “Should I summon him for you?” I tilt my head, letting my voice carry. My dragoness stirs, impatient with the interruption. Before Finlay can retort, I reach through the tether linking me to Abraxis, sending a gentlecome herepulse.Heat flares beneath my skin when he replies, and I smirk, leaning back against Klauth.
“You love playing with fire, my treasure,” Klauth whispers against my ear, his breath hot on my skin.
“You’re a red dragon,” I murmur with a teasing grin, “you’d be the expert on that.” I lean up and brush a kiss under his jaw. My nose catches a hint of something smoky—remnants of his earlier shift, perhaps.
The door on the stage swings open, revealing Abraxis. The speed at which he arrived suggests he was waiting close by. Footsteps echo across the wooden boards as he advances.
“General, did you know your young mate is having a dalliance with that male up there?” Finlay points a bony finger in our direction, practically shaking with indignation.
Abraxis’s gaze coolly sweeps through the auditorium. “He’s one of her mates, so yes, I’m well aware.” His blunt tone leaves Finlay momentarily speechless. The general ascends the stairs, heading toward us. “How’s class?” he asks, his voice dropping a bit when he’s near.
“Survivable.” I can smell the faint leather of his uniform and feel the powerful aura he carries. My fingers flex around the paper I’m still clutching. “We’re working on my penmanship—and I’m trying out everyone’s surnames.” I hand Abraxis the list, feeling the edges of the sheet scrape my palm.
He arches a brow at the names. “I mean, for the good of the nest, the ancient surnames would do best. Selfishly, I want you to keep mine.” He shifts his attention to Klauth, offering his hand. “Thank you for yesterday. I took your guidance to heart and will make the needed changes going forward.”
Klauth accepts the handshake, the mutual respect radiating from them both. I feel the tension in the row before us, classmates no doubt craning their necks for a better view.
My gaze darts from one dragon to the other. “We need to go to the temple of Bahamut to have the bonds acknowledged before Mina has her first clutch,” Klauth says. His tone is hushed, but I sense the gravity in every syllable. Abraxis’s eyes widen.
“That means revealing yourself to all dragon kind,” Abraxis whispers, leaning closer. I can almost taste the adrenaline in the air—thick, electric.
“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for our nest and mate.” Klauth’s voice is resolute. “All that belonged to me before my capture will be returned to me, per tradition. Including ownership of the lands and buildings this academy is built on. This was all my territory, plus the lands north of the dragon dorms for about thirty miles.”
My breath catches, and I fumble in my bag for a rolled-up map, the worn parchment crackling as I smooth it out on the armrest. “Thirty miles north … That touches the mountains where my nest is built. Which means my territory extends another twenty-five miles. Combined, that’s…” My eyes widen at the magnitude. “We control nearly thirty percent of the continent.”
“Ourterritory, my treasure,” Klauth says, kissing my temple. His lips are warm, pulling me out of my startled haze. We both look up at Abraxis, whose expression is thoughtful. I recall he hasn’t inherited his father’s den yet, so he’s effectively landless for the moment.
“When is all of this happening?” I ask, my pulse skittering with unease. Something cold nips at the edges of my mind, reminding me that when Thauglor hatches, Abraxis’s father’s lands might revert as well.
“The next temple verification is in five days,” Abraxis says, pullingout his phone. The soft glow of the screen lights up his face. “I’ll fly over and put our names on the list.”
I stand, the stiff chair scraping against the floor, and wrap my arms around Abraxis. The faint musk of his jacket mixes with a hint of metal—probably the buckles on his uniform. I try to raise my arms to his neck, craving the press of his cheek against mine. Abraxis stops me and adjusts so my hands only make it around his waist. A warning growl resonates in his throat, low enough that the rest of the class might not catch it, but I feel it reverberate against my chest.
“Mina…” His voice is a caution, a firm reminder of some boundary he’s set.
My dragoness bristles, but I force a tight smile. “Fine…” I settle for hugging him around his waist, feeling his heartbeat under my cheek. I nuzzle my nose under his jaw, inhaling the clean, spicy scent that’s uniquely his. The arrangement feels awkward, so different from our usual easy closeness.
Abraxis runs his fingers through my hair, letting a soothing warmth slip into that space between us. “Finish your lesson. I’ll see you later,” he says, stepping back.
