Page 40 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
I ignore her outburst, my focus unyielding. What she fails to realize is that he chose me two years ago. His egg ignited for me, burned bright, and demanded my attention. He soothed me when no one else could.
We ascend the five stairs, each step echoing softly under the weight of tradition, until I finally drop into a low curtsy before Klauth. I close my eyes and bow my head, waiting for him to retrieve me, per custom. I feel the warmth of his body before the tip of his fingers gently graze my jaw. I rise, then lower my head again in the practiced rhythm we’ve shared countless times. Taking my hand, he leads me toward the priestess as the ceremony is about to begin.
CHAPTER 21
Klauth
I step into the booth;the atmosphere buzzing with excitement as soon as everyone realizes who I am. The air crackles with murmured awe and the clink of silverware on porcelain. Lysander, the headmaster, leans in with a curious frown and asks how I am here instead of in my egg. I flash him a wide, toothy grin and, without offering an explanation, order his removal from the suite. The sound of his hurried footsteps fades into the background as I settle into my role.
As planned, I watch Mina and Abraxis lead the procession. Their names echo through the hall with a reverence that mingles with the soft strains of a distant string quartet. I can see why Mina chose to be borne by Leander’s Nightmare—a creature whose low, rhythmic growl underlines her relaxed, regal composure. The subtle scent of polished wood and the faint musk of the beast add to the surreal splendor of the scene.
When they draw near, Mina breaks away, and Leander rears up, drawing her into my orbit. Our brief exchange flows without a hitch, the rustle of fabric and whispered assurances mingling with the ambient clamor. Then, unexpectedly, my little mate surprises me bygifting a delicate braid of her hair. I tuck it carefully into my pocket alongside my handkerchief, the vivid color of the braid peeking out like a secret promise.
“It’s time to move to the next area, Sire,” Vox intones. His voice measured as he gestures down the corridor. His retinue, steadfast and silent, shadows our progress—a show of security that clearly irks Lysander. I reply with a cool, deliberate “Lead on,” and stride ahead into the next room.
Immediately, my eyes are drawn to the thrones, carved from solid stone in the traditional style. The chill texture of the stone under my fingertips as I pass by reminds me of the enduring legacy of our people. The dais, set about five steps above the lower level, commands attention, while the smaller audience area hums with an expectant murmur as guests take their seats.
I sense Mina’s unease about what is coming—a tension that mirrors the low rumble of an impending storm. I don’t blame her. I have allowed this charade to continue solely to secure certain immunities for my mate. In these halls, to harm a royal invites immediate death, and with her ever-growing list of enemies, this measure is our next logical safeguard.
Once every guest is seated, I watch as Cerce and Cora from Abraxis’s family slip in through a side door. Mina stands ready, every inch the picture of poised defiance. My heart thunders in my chest as I will the doors to open, each agonizing moment stretching out like miles. The faint scent of burning torches and the cool draft from the open corridor heighten my anticipation.
The guard at the door meets my gaze, and with a subtle nod, I signal him to swing open the double doors. They move in perfect unison, revealing the grand hall beyond. There, amid the flickering light and the soft hum of whispered conversations, Mina appears—a vision in a gown matching the exact coloration of her dragoness. She steps forward gracefully, her hand resting on Ziggy’s back, her head heldhigh. The hall fills with both appreciative praise and skeptical murmurs; some still question my judgment in claiming a green dragon as mine.
What they don’t understand is that Mina and I chose each other over two years ago. I recall how her voice once sang of forever, of redemption and sanctuary. A song that promised a nest strong and safe for herself and any future offspring. In its final, haunting notes, she vowed revenge against those who dared harm us. No woman should ever feel unsafe, and in that moment, I felt the raw power of her bloodline and knew she was the one.
Suddenly, a female voice rings out, slicing through the murmurs and silencing the crowd. “The King deserves better!” Shock and indignation flash across every face. “He deserves a pureblood mate!” The words, laced with venom, reverberate against the stone walls as security moves in to escort the madwoman from the hall.
I ignore her ramblings and fix my gaze on Mina, who too dismisses the outburst with quiet determination. Each step she takes toward me sends my pulse racing faster, echoing in the quiet spaces between the heavy beats of the ancient floorboards. When she finally stands before me, she yields completely—a deep curtsy that is more profound than I had expected. I trace a fingertip along her jaw, feeling the warmth of her skin, and she rises gracefully. Lowering her head in the practiced manner we’ve shared countless times. She allows me to take her hand as I lead her to the next stage of the program.
The priestess steps forward, her voice steady as she reads from an ancient tome about our heritages. My lineage is unveiled before the gathered crowd, prompting a few gasps. I am King Klauth Ragnar, high king of the Marzana Empire—the lands beneath our feet claimed by ancient rite. Then, her gaze shifts to Mina as she recites her full birth name. On her mother’s side, she is descended from Gruaghlothor, the supreme ruler of the ferrous dragon clans; on herfather’s, from Aglaraerose, the undying one. Abraxis and I exchange knowing looks as we absorb the weight of her bloodline. A fact underscored by the array of scales trailing down her back and spine, cited by the priestess as irrefutable proof of her heritage.
“To properly crown your queen, mate bites must be exchanged and witnessed,” the priestess declares. In response, Mina steps forward and stands before me, offering her throat where my first bite already marks the side of her neck. I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to the familiar scar before sinking my teeth in. My voice, deep and resonant like a distant drum, rumbles in a soothing cadence to calm any lingering anxiety. I trace a gentle path over the wound with my tongue, sealing it before pressing another tender kiss.
The priestess approaches once more, inspecting the bite on Mina’s throat before speaking softly, “M’lady, if you would be so kind.” Mina dips her head in deference to the priestess and then draws closer to me. As we have practiced, she gently presses the bridge of her nose against my jaw, her hands resting on my chest. I envelop her in a warm embrace, then grip the back of her head to guide her mouth to the spot of her original mark. She purrs softly, and I feel the delicate pressure of her teeth as they meet my skin. “Do it, Mina—mark me,” I whisper just for her.
I feel her teeth slowly press against my skin, the warmth of her bite igniting a hum that makes our bond flare brighter. With deliberate care, she withdraws her teeth and licks over the wound to seal it, then steps back, lowering her head in quiet humility. I resent she must adhere to these ancient traditions, but they are as unyielding as the stone beneath our feet. The priestess smiles approvingly as she inspects my mark.
Drawing Mina close to my side, I follow the priestess as she steps before the gathered masses. “I am proud to announce that the Aurelian Isles now have a king and queen!” Her words boom through the hall, eliciting cheers that reverberate off the high ceilings. “KingKlauth Ragnar and Queen Willamina Ragnar—may you rule well!” She gestures to the other mates on the stage and beckons Mina forward. “Will you be so kind as to mark your king consorts?” With a nod, Mina moves among them, one by one, giving her ceremonial bites. Balor and Ziggy are the last to be marked, their reactions a blend of pride and quiet acceptance.
When Mina finishes, we are instructed to proceed to the ballroom, where the celebration continues amid the soft strains of music, the rich aroma of spiced wine, and the warm glow of countless candles. In every sense, the night pulses with life—and with the unyielding promise of what is coming.
The entire nesthangs back as our guests flow into the ballroom, their excited chatter mingling with the soft hum of distant music. I scan the room, my heart thumping in sync with the pulsing bass, and ask, “Is everyone okay so far with what’s happening?” I meet each of my bond brothers’ eyes, gauging their moods under the warm glow of the chandeliers.
“I hate how Mina had to act submissive to all of us,” Balor declares, his tone rough as he leans back with a dismissive smirk. His words slice through the ambient noise like a sharp blade.
A low, simmering growl builds in my chest as I think about it. “It’s one of the first things I’m abolishing. Females should be treated as equals,” I retort, my voice barely rising above the soft strains of a string quartet now tuning up in the background.
“Hey…” Mina’s gentle voice interrupts as she reaches up, her hand warm and soft against my cheek. Her eyes meet mine with a calm assurance that belies the storm inside. “It wasn’t that bad. I didn’t have to do anything degrading, so it was livable.” A smile tugs at her lips as she glances around the room. “Watching Arista get kicked out was more than worth it.” Her words ring out, laced with mischief, and then she looks toward the door. “We should get out there soon.”
I slide a folded sheet of paper from my pocket, its crisp texture contrasting with the velvet drape of my jacket. The paper outlines the evening’s events in meticulous detail. “The first official dance is Mina’s and mine. Second is Abraxis, then Balor, and finally, free-for-all with everyone else.” I say this with a measured calm, my fingers tracing the printed lines as if reading my destiny.
“Why is Balor third?” Vaughn asks, tugging at his tie as he straightens up. His voice carries both curiosity and a hint of irritation.
I offer a wry smile. “It’s tradition that in a nest, a succession is made. If I die, Abraxis is next in line. If he dies, then it’s Balor—until either my son or Abraxis’s son is old enough to rule.” My gaze drifts toward the ornate doors leading to the hall. An attendant stands there, his polished shoes clicking softly on the marble floor. “Let’s get this done. After tonight, I can fly wherever I want, whenever I want,” I joke, a rare note of genuine freedom in my laugh. “We will head back to our nest in the mountains tonight. I don’t trust the others yet.”
At that, Mina moves to my side, her hand slipping onto my arm as if it were a lifeline. The attendant opens the door with a gentle creak, and I lead our nest into the resplendent room. The ballroom dazzles under a cascade of sparkling lights, each chandelier beam refracting like a million tiny diamonds dancing across the polished floor. The music shifts—a slow, haunting waltz fills the air—and I guide Mina into the center of the floor.
I remember how Abraxis mentioned Mina has been taking dance lessons in Finlay’s class since last year. Holding her close, I feel her warm breath against my ear as we glide effortlessly around the floor, our steps as familiar as old memories. “I would love to know what’sgoing on in that brilliant mind of yours,” I murmur, bending down to whisper.
