Page 74 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
“Pretty good. Why?” Abraxis arches a brow, his eyes steady and inquisitive.
“He needs to follow me around during the war games,” I explain, my voice growing more confident. “At least then you all will know exactly when I get abducted. He can tail me to wherever they hide me, and Balor can play the knight in obsidian scales to save my ass.” Despite the absurdity, the plan sounds practical—a strategy born from the chaos in my head.
Callan’s comment cuts through the air. “Tactically, that’s brilliant. What are we going to do about Lemon?”
I laugh, a sound that feels both relieved and defiant, as Iris lands lightly on my shoulder. “Iris will handle that. She’s got a score to settle with Lemon.” I press a soft kiss against her cool, smooth scales and smile back at the group. “Iris will be Rebel’s bodyguard.”
Abraxis’s confession is laced with uncertainty. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“Do you have any better ideas?” I ask, tilting my head as I lean back against Klauth. His arms wrap around me slowly, offering a silent promise of comfort, and I let out a soft sigh.
Balor’s declaration cuts through the room. “I think we should run with it. Can you breathe that sleep toxin in human form, or only in your dragon form?” He tilts his head, curiosity mingling with amusement.
Vaughn moves closer, his form shifting to his gargoyle self. “Test it on me. Even if there’s acid, my stone skin should protect me.”
I fix my gaze on him as he nods slowly. My face contorts with concentration. The bone plates beneath my skin shift slightly, and I feel the roof of my mouth alter as the transformation takes hold. I almost hiss when a purplish-blue gas escapes my lips. Withinseconds, Vaughn collapses to the ground, the sound of sizzling fluid mingling with the low hum of the room.
“It works, but there’s acid involved,” I sigh, watching him sleep on the cold floor, his skin glistening with droplets that burn the floor when they fall.
Leander’s quiet voice cuts through the stillness, thoughtful and measured. “It’s good to know you can do it.”
“True...” I murmur, staring at Vaughn’s unconscious form. Tomorrow is bound to be an interesting day. Preparations for the war games begin during third period, and I know I need to give Vaughn every advantage possible.
CHAPTER 41
Vaughn
My head pounds relentlessly,a throbbing echo of the sleep toxin Mina forced into my system. I can still taste the bitter residue on my tongue, metallic and acrid, coating my mouth like old pennies soaked in vinegar. It’s been three agonizing days, each minute stretching into hours as the poison slowly works its way out of my bloodstream.
Now, on the eve of the war games, tension cuts through the bright midday air like a sharpened blade against exposed flesh. Mina has assembled a ragtag team from the students she deems worthy, their nervous energy pulsing around me like a living thing. She has us gather around our scarred back table in a sunlit room that feels more like a battlefield than a meeting place. The wood beneath my elbows is worn smooth from years of anxious fingers.
“What do you need us to do, Mina?” I ask, my voice low and rough, scraping past my dry throat. I shift my weight. The cool stone of my gargoyle form scraping against the chair with a sound like sandpaper on granite as I unfurl my wings—broad, dark, and formidable—shielding the table from the other students. The leather membranestretches taut, catching the sunlight that filters through the tall windows. The harsh daylight casts deep shadows that flicker across the room, echoing the turmoil inside me.
Mina’s eyes, fierce and calculating, lock onto Trever. I can see her pupils contract in the bright light, revealing the golden flecks in her irises that only appear when she’s focused. “Trever, you’re a black dragon, correct?” she asks, her voice carrying a slight rasp that betrays her exhaustion. Trever nods, his expression grim despite the bright light that exposes every detail of his determined face. The thin scar along his jaw twitching with tension. “Position yourself here.” Her finger taps a spot on the map, the sound sharp in the hushed room. “And remember—do not speak aloud where I am directing you.” His nod is sharp, each detail of his resolve etched in my memory as he commits the orders to memory, the muscles in his neck corded tight.
She turns to Max, her lips moving silently as she mouths “jabberwock,” the word hanging unspoken in the air between them. Max meets her gaze and nods, a spark of wild mischief lighting his eyes, the irises shifting from brown to amber as his excitement grows. “Good. Watch Trever’s back. Do your thing, but keep the carnage focused on the enemy,” Mina instructs. A slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth, revealing the edge of a sharper-than-human canine. I note, with a mix of curiosity and unease, that I have no idea what species of dragon he truly is. Whatever he is, it brings a rare light to Mina’s otherwise shadowed expression, the tension around her eyes briefly softening.
Mina then fixes her gaze on Luc, she hesitates. For a moment, the low hum of conversation seems to pause beneath the booming midday clamor outside the room. Her eyes widen with sudden excitement as she bounces lightly on her heels. The leather of her boots creaks with each movement. “How many of your clan are here?” she demands. Her voice trembles with urgency amid the warmth of the day, her breath coming quicker.
“Six,my queen,” Luc replies, his smile gentle and respectful. The scent of cinnamon and cloves following his words as if his dragon nature infuses even his breath. Mina arches a brow, her glance probing. “Are there at least two more in the war classes?” Luc’s eyes mirror the anxious intensity that flickers in Mina’s, the color shifting like storm clouds, and he confirms, “Yes. Would you like them here?” His fingers tap a nervous rhythm on the tabletop, barely audible but persistent.
“Yes, I would,” she replies, her voice steady now. She hands him a small, creased piece of paper with instructions scribbled on it, the parchment rustling as it passes between them.
Next, Mina turns to Quent. “You’re from my mate’s den, aren’t you?” she says, tilting her head as I watch the subtle shift in his eyes. They take on a malevolent green glow that sends a shiver through me even under the midday sun. The sight of them raising goosebumps along my arms despite the heat. “Yes, I am,” he purrs, his tone a silky murmur that carries a dangerous edge, like velvet wrapped around a blade.
“Good. I can direct the fight from wherever I am then.” Mina scribbles a note, the scratching of her pen against the paper filling the momentary silence. She slides it into Quent’s hand before he melts away into the crowd, his departure marked only by a faint waft of sulfur.
“And then there was one.” Mina’s smile widens as she nods at Crassus, who bows his head humbly, the sunlight glinting off the silver strands in his dark hair. “Defense,” she murmurs, barely more than a breath, before distributing envelopes to each of us. The paper is warm from being kept close to her body.
Mina steps closer and presses a small, worn notebook into my hand, its leather cover soft with age and use. The pages inside slightly yellowed at the edges. “In here is every idea I’ve had about whatmight happen in the war games,” she says, her voice soft yet insistent, her fingertips lingering on mine for a heartbeat too long.
As she leads me out of the cool meeting room, the bright midday light greets us with blinding intensity. The scent of fresh-cut grass and distant smoke fills the air, mingling with the metallic tang of weapons being forged somewhere nearby. Outside, Abraxis awaits us near the training yard, his form outlined against the sun-drenched expanse of the field, his silhouette sharp and commanding.
“We’re going for a flight,” he announces as he joins us, the midday heat making the air shimmer with anticipation around his body. I glance around; the yard is a chaotic blend of clashing bodies and echoing grunts as students spar under the watchful, steady gaze of Balor. The harsh brightness exposes every twitch of movement and the sweat on their brows, a stark reminder of the stakes. The sun glints off practice weapons like warning beacons.
“Exactly,” Mina murmurs as we slip far enough from the prying eyes of the yard, her voice barely carrying over the rhythmic clang of metal on metal. Mina shifts effortlessly into her dragon, her bones crackling and reforming with a sound like breaking branches. She lays down so we can climb on, her massive body radiating heat like a furnace.
“Come on, I’m here to translate for Mina’s dragon,” Abraxis says with a low chuckle as we climb onto her back, his hands steadying me as I find my footing on her shifting muscles. I settle against her rough frill, feeling the texture of sun-warmed scales beneath my fingertips, hard yet somehow alive, just as she rises and bounds toward the open sky. The rush of air is startling, whipping my face and stealing my breath, and the sunlight dazzles as we ascend. The heat mingling with the tension that radiates from us all like a palpable force.
