Page 38 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
“The priestesses have sent Priestess Elain to Blackhaven for interrogation,” Klauth says calmly, though his eyes flicker with intensity.
I narrow my gaze. “That’s not the only reason we’re here, is it?” I recognize his tell—the slight tilt of his head that always betrays him, just like Abraxis has his own.
“Did Mina claw or bite you?” Klauth demands no hesitation.
I scoff and arch a brow. “No, she submitted exactly like she’s supposed to. I remembered the assignment.” My tone carries a trace of annoyance; I hate being tested.
“Good. Let’s go enjoy dinner,” Klauth says, but I can’t miss the wayhis eyes shift. “Mina picked her two dresses for the Winter Formal. She’ll ride Leander’s Nightmare in the processional, like last time.”
He lifts his head, casting a wicked glint in his gaze. “For Mina’s safety during the coronation, I want you shifted. You and Ziggy will stay at her side at all times—one to defend, the other to ensure a quick escape. Will you do me that honor?” He extends his hand, and I stare at it briefly, considering.
“Anything you need for Mina or the safety of this nest, I’ll do without question.” I let out a half laugh. “I’m no hero. They sacrifice the girl for the world. I’m the thing that goes bump in the night. I’ll watch the world burn to keep Mina safe and never regret it.” I clasp his hand firmly, the air crackling with unspoken resolve.
Klauth nods, a faint smile curling his lips. “On that, we agree completely. Turn everyone to stone if you have to, as long as Mina lives.” He pats my back, his palm warm through my thin shirt. “Now, let’s eat before our mate comes looking for us.”
As I follow him back toward the dining room, the scents of roasted garlic and spiced wine grow stronger. I think about the stories everyone tells of Klauth, painting him as a monster. He might be capable of monstrous acts, but he protects his mate above all else—and that’s not a monster. That’s a damn good mate.
CHAPTER 20
Mina
The nightof the winter formal…
It feels like the entire month has vanished on me. One minute, we’re heading out for dress shopping; the next, it’s the night of the event. A faint tremor of anxiety prickles along my skin as I stand before two gowns, both draped across my bed in the dorm suite. The distant hum of activity in the academy corridors filters under the door, and I catch the faint scent of scented candles someone must be burning. It’s a sharp contrast to the tension knotting in my stomach.
I sigh deeply, gazing at the shimmering midnight-black gown designed to match Abraxis’s dragon. Specks of silver thread glint in the faint overhead light, reminding me of starlight on dark water. The second gown—a deep, iridescent green mixed with silver—was commissioned to match my scales. Vox had it made by the finest seamstress in his nest, and it practically sings with the promise of power.
“Is there something wrong?” Cora’s gentle voice comes from behind me. She presses her cheek against my shoulder, her warmth a comforting counterpoint to my nerves.
“Everything changes today.” I bite my bottom lip, torn between the two gowns that represent two starkly different roles I’m about to play.
“It doesn’t have to,” Cora says, soft but firm. “You’re still you, no matter what.” She looks up at me and kisses my cheek, her sweet perfume lingering in the air.
I let out a shaky laugh. “I’m finishing school. That part I refuse to give up on.” My voice wavers. “But the council said I can’t run the gauntlets anymore.” A subtle chill creeps up my spine at the memory of the council’s final decree.
Cora carefully sits William down on a soft blanket on the couch, arranging pillows around him so he can’t roll off. “You never wanted to be a weapon, right? So maybe this is a good thing.” She offers me the black gown, her smile gentle. “Now, come on. I get to be your handmaiden tonight.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m grateful for her levity. “Okay, fine. Let’s do this.” I peel off my sweatshirt and leggings, the cool air brushing my bare skin. As Cora helps me into the gown, the corset tightens around my ribs, making my breathing shallow. “I keep forgetting these stupid things have corsets.” I glance down at my breasts, which feel like they’re seconds from spilling out. “My boobs look huge,” I mutter, horrified at the cleavage. Abraxis’s necklace rests right above the apex, drawing even more attention to them.
Cora laughs and sets about fixing my hair, pinning up braids and adding the delicate adornments Cerce gave me. Each polished inch of my horns gleams under the light, reflecting a faint pearlescent sheen. I tug on the long black gloves that slide over my forearms, the fabric smooth and slightly cool against my skin.
“We have ten minutes to get you on Leander’s back before the procession,” Balor announces as he steps into the room. He’swearing a finely tailored black suit that catches the faint flicker of torchlight from the hallway.
I nod, heart thudding, and slip my arm through his. My heels click against the stone floor as we head toward the staging area. An undercurrent of charged excitement hangs in the air—whispers, hushed conversations, the metallic tang of polished armor.
“Klauth thinks something is going to happen, doesn’t he?” I hazard a glance at Balor, my voice low.
“That’s an understatement. He wants me and Zig shifted for the coronation, which speaks volumes.” Balor’s mouth twitches in a grim half-smile. “I think Zig will walk you down the aisle to Klauth.”
“If you two are shifted, how are you being crowned?” My brow furrows as I imagine the ceremony with Balor’s basilisk and Ziggy’s displacer beast in place of my mates.
“Easy. It’ll still be done while we’re in our shifted forms,” Balor explains, patting my hand reassuringly. We enter the staging hall where a line of mounted riders awaits, their horses shifting restlessly. The air is thick with the scent of leather and the unmistakable musk of the stable. At the front stands Abraxis and Leander in his nightmare form.
Abraxis lets out a low whistle when he sees me, his eyes flashing with primal interest. “You look absolutely stunning, Mina.”
Leander bows, and Balor helps me settle into a sidesaddle position on his nightmare’s back. My gown drapes elegantly over his flank, though Balor fusses with the skirt to keep it from tangling. When Leander rises to his full height, I realize just how small I feel perched on him—but also how safe.
“See you soon,” I say softly to Balor as he moves away. Turning to Abraxis, I force a smile despite my racing pulse. “Nervous?”
