Page 83 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
“You were willing to die so that our mate would live,” Thauglor continues, his ancient eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes it difficult to breathe. “You have honored our noble bloodline, descendant. My wings and talons are yours. Any that challenge you, challenge me.” He extends his hand toward me, the skin weathered and marked with centuries of battles.
I take it swiftly and shake it, feeling the calluses against my palm, the incredible strength held carefully in check. “I appreciate that,” I manage, my voice steadier than I expected. He reaches out and pats my shoulder, the weight of his hand like an anchor, before taking a seat on the couch that groans beneath him.
“You stinky boy need a bath,” Mina pinches her nose playfully, staring at Thauglor. The playful gesture is at odds with the power dynamics swirling in the room.
Klauth full-on belly laughs, the sound rich and warm, filling the corners of the room at the look of confusion crossing Thauglor’s face. “Better do as she says. She can partially wield her lightning in her human form.”
“I do not stink,” Thauglor tilts his head at the angle we all know pisses Mina off, the tendons in his neck standing out prominently.
A low growl escapes her lips as she stares at him, the sound raising goosebumps along my arms. Klauth leans in and whispers something in Thauglor’s ear, his breath causing the ancient’s hair to stir slightly, and immediately, Thauglor adjusts his posture. “Would you be so kind as to show me where this bath is you speak of?” He stands and bows deeply to Mina, and I damn near forget to breathe, the oxygen catching in my lungs at this unprecedented display.
“Right this way.” Mina wiggles her fingers at Thauglor, her nails catching the light. He closes the distance and takes her hand, allowing her to lead him off. Their footsteps fade down the hallway, accompanied by the soft murmur of voices.
As soon as they are out of earshot, Klauth rounds on me, the sudden movement causing me to tense instinctively. “She survived his acid.” He arches an eyebrow, his expression intense enough that I can almost feel the heat of his gaze.
“Okay? It’s a known fact she can withstand acid.” I glance over at Balor and Callan as he enters the room.
“Your acid, yes. A green dragon’s, absolutely.” Klauth’s voice drops lower, compelling me to lean in despite myself. “A great wyrm’s acid is more concentrated. Mina said her scales tingled a little. That was it. Her scales should have melted or been burnt. Yet there’s not a single scratch on her.” He raises an eyebrow like I’m supposed to understand what he’s getting at, the implications hanging heavy in the air between us.
“Do you think it’s because of being fully bonded to you, or her plans to have a clutch next year?” Balor asks before he finishes his beer off, the empty bottle clinking as he sets it down on the wooden coffee table.
“Both. Her dragoness is gearing up for war.” Klauth’s words send a chill down my spine despite the warmth of the room. “Once she bonds Thauglor, I don’t know how indestructible she’ll be.”
Ziggy passes out fresh beers to us, the tops hissing as they’re twisted off, releasing the hoppy aroma into the air. The condensation from my bottle seeps into my palm as I take it.
Mina comes walking back out, her bare feet silent against the floor, and heads straight to the fridge. Her thin cotton dress moving on a phantom breeze. The door opens with a soft suction sound, and cool air billows out as she pulls out a bottle of wine. The dark glass gleams under the kitchen lights. Shifting a finger to a talon—the transformation so smooth it’s barely noticeable. She pulls the cork out with a satisfying pop and pours two glasses. The rich, burgundy liquid cascades into the crystal with a gentle gurgle.
She looks up at us and tilts her head, her hair falling across her cheek in a way that makes my fingers itch to brush it back. “What? I don’t like beer.” She shrugs her shoulders, the movement fluid and graceful.
“Who’s the second glass for?” I sip at my beer as I move to sit on thestool, the cold metal pressing against the back of my thighs through my pants.
“Thauglor. I asked if he wants beer or wine. He said wine.” Smiling broadly, Mina purrs, the sound vibrating in the air between us, sending a jolt of awareness through my body. “I finally have one of you to drink wine with. Well, besides Lee.” With both glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other, Mina leaves us all behind speechless. The gentle sway of her hips as she walks away draws my gaze like a magnet.
“He hasn’t eaten in over a thousand years, and she’s giving him wine,” I say with a laugh that feels rough in my throat.
Balor coughs, having inhaled his beer, the liquid spraying slightly as he struggles to breathe. “She’s gonna get him drunk.”
All eyes turn to Klauth, and I watch as the blood drains from his face, leaving him pale as bone. “Shit.” The word comes out as a strangled whisper before he takes off running down the hallway after them, his footsteps thundering against the floor.
If she makes Thauglor submit to her, all hell is going to break loose at her next cycle. The thought settles in my gut like a stone as I take another long drink of my beer, the carbonation burning all the way down.
I don’t even wantto know what’s happening in there. My eyes follow Klauth’s retreating form as he sprints down the hallway towards the main bathroom, the thundering of his heavy footfalls echoing against the stone walls. Shaking my head, I turn to go outside, the cool metal of the door handle a welcome relief against my palm. The hinges creak as I push it open, and a gust of crispmountain air rushes in, carrying with it the scent of pine and distant rain.
Being up here in our private nest has its advantages. I stand at the edge of our terrace, the rough stone railing pressing against my forearms as I lean forward. My eyes scan the sprawling landscape below, now Mina’s territory. The vastness of it makes my chest tighten with a strange mixture of pride and apprehension. I watch Warwick’s people working on the lower courtyard, their movements like busy ants from this height, the clang of metal and distant shouts drifting up on the breeze.
Mina never wanted any of this, and yet she’s taking to it like a duck to water. The thought tugs at the corner of my mouth, almost forming a smile. My sister and nephew live downstairs in the lower quarters, with a new hatchling on the way. I can almost smell the fresh paint from here—they’ve been preparing the nursery for weeks. Three new young couples have come to join the flight from my mother’s people. Their scents are still unfamiliar enough that I can pick them out from the others when the wind shifts. Our legion grows by the day, and I don’t think Mina realizes the magnitude of what’s happening.
Several other species of dragons have petitioned to join us, each offering different forms of tribute. The thought of their gifts—gleaming metals, rare artifacts, and pledges of allegiance—sits heavy in my mind. My musings are interrupted as I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. I watch my father’s dragon form gliding in from the west, his massive wings casting a shadow over the courtyard as he circles several times before landing. The ground trembles slightly beneath my feet as his weight settles on the stone.
“How are you, son?” His human form shimmers into existence before me, bringing with it the familiar scent of sandalwood and smoke that has always meant safety to me. He closes the distance between us,and we hug briefly, his arms strong and sure around my shoulders, careful to avoid my injured wing.
“As well as can be expected.” I step back and spread my wings, the muscles protesting slightly but holding firm. For the first time since the incident, I can spread both equally, the injured muscles no longer pulling awkwardly to one side. The sun warms the thin skin between the bones, and I relish the sensation I feared I’d never feel again.
“That looks much better.” He motions to my wings, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as he examines them with a critical gaze.
“Mina spends hours each day stretching my wings and rubbing the salve on the muscles.” The memory of her fingers, gentle yet insistent, working the healing ointment into my damaged tissues makes my skin tingle. “I hear her when she thinks I’m distracted. I hear her cry.” A huffed out sigh escapes my lips, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “Sometimes I think it hurts her more than it does me.” I stare at the earth below my feet as I kick several stones, watching them tumble over the edge and disappear from sight. The soft patter of their landing is lost in the distance.
“When are you going to try to fly?” My dad walks with me to the edge of the cliff, the leather of his boots scraping against the stone. The drop before us is dizzying, a sheer plummet that would have once exhilarated rather than terrified me.
