Page 35 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
“How are you feeling?” he asks, just as the others gather in a semicircle behind him. Their combined presence is a comforting weight on my senses.
“Other than this pounding headache, I’m good,” I answer, and glance down at my left shoulder, where a tight bandage wraps my skin. “How bad was it?” My gaze flicks between Balor and Klauth, who are just as knowledgeable about poisons as I am.
Klauth’s voice is tinged with anger and relief all at once. “A lethal dose, my treasure. One that would have killed a lesser dragon.” He steps aside so Abraxis can move closer.
“How long was I asleep?” I manage, though the grogginess threatens to pull me under again.
“Four days,” Leander replies. I look at Balor, feeling a pang of guilt.
“Sorry I missed your birthday.” My shoulders slump with regret.
Balor’s expression softens. “You surviving is more than enough of a birthday present,” he says, then glances at Ziggy behind me. “That one wouldn’t let go of you for more than an hour at a time.”
I twist around to meet the malevolent green eyes of Ziggy’s packlord displacer beast. My heart tightens with gratitude. “Thank you, Ziggy. Can you shift back? I want a hug.” A yawn slips past my lips, and I lower my gaze to the bandage again.
There’s a subtle crackle in the air, like static brushing over my skin, followed by a rapid ripple of pressure. In the next instant, Ziggy appears in his human form and scoots closer. He gently pulls me into his lap, wrapping muscular arms around my waist and pressing his chest against my back.
“I was so scared,” he whispers, his breath tickling my ear. I exhale a shaky sigh.
“Me too, Ziggy. It’s not my first time being shot with dragon’s bane.” I look pointedly at Abraxis and Klauth. “Dad shot me once while we were practicing dodging arrows—told me to ‘move faster’ before I passed out. No one treated the wounds. I slept for a week without the poultice you made for me.”
Klauth’s roar reverberates through the chamber. “He didn’t treat you at all?”
Abraxis interjects as he offers me a cup of steaming bone broth. “Sadly, it sounds exactly like her father.” His gaze flicks to mine, eyes gentling. “We’ll start you off with broth and work up to real food. It’s Saturday, so we’re free for the next two days.”
I nod, the aroma of the broth—savory and rich—coaxing my stomach awake. I take a careful sip; the warmth slides down my throat and settles in my belly.
“The house looks incredible,” I say, surveying the polished walls, plush rugs, and ornate furnishings.
Leander gives me a proud smile. “I gave Klauth access to your online wish board. Cora had a shared inspiration board you two were working on for the combined flight. So we based the design on the colors and themes you liked.”
My eyes sweep over the room, taking in the subtle mix of shimmering gold, rich burgundy, and soft cream. “I love it,” I say quietly, finishing the last of the broth. A wave of exhaustion surges through me. “Is there somewhere I can lie down? I’m still so tired.”
Callan steps forward, his eye glowing with an eager warmth. “I have just the place for you.”
Abraxis bends down and scoops me into his arms, cradling me gently as he carries me through a short hallway. We enter the egg chamber—a circular space where the ceiling arches high, and the walls are lined with softly glowing crystals. In the far corner stands a large gryphon nest piled high with downy feathers. My eyes widen at the luxurious sight of it.
“Did you pluck yourself bald lining this?” I ask Callan, marveling at how plush and inviting it looks.
“Yup, several times,” he replies. “My feathers grow back quickly if I eat and rest, so over three days I filled it just for you.” He shifts into his gryphon form—a regal creature with tawny feathers and piercing eye—and prances over to the nest before leaping up and settling in. He lifts one wing, inviting me into his warmth.
My mates each press a kiss to my forehead or cheek, and I’m passed to Callan’s waiting embrace. The softness of his gryphon feathers cushions me like a thick, luxurious blanket. The scent of fresh hay mingled with his musky gryphon scent, envelops me. My eyes flutter closed, and I nuzzle into his side.
Safe in their care, I sink back into sleep—my head pounding less, my breathing finally steady, and the comforting hum of their presence anchoring me in the darkness.
CHAPTER 19
Balor
Deepin the bowels of the academy, Ziggy and I stand over the fire drake who shot our mate. He has been whipped, cut, stabbed, and burned, and the smell of singed flesh hangs heavily in the stagnant air. Water drips from the jagged ceiling, and every drop echoes through the dim corridor. Flickering torchlight throws shifting shadows across the stone walls, reflecting the torment we inflict.
Ziggy shoots me an impatient look. “Balor, just do it the easy way.”
“Fine.” My voice comes out as a low growl. I take a step closer to our prisoner, the crunch of shattered glass and old blood under my boots sending a chill up my spine. Carefully, I tape his eyelids open, the sticky sound of the tape unspooling ringing in my ears. His frantic breathing quickens.
“What the fuck, man! This is against the accords!” the prisoner yells, voice echoing off the walls as he jerks against his chains.
A twisted smirk lifts the corner of my mouth. “Good thing I’m not bound by the accords, isn’t it?” I brace his head in place, leaning inuntil our faces are nearly touching. My breath mists the air between us. “Look deep into my eyes and listen to my voice.”
