Page 25 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
She pauses, staring at the image for a long moment before sinking onto the couch, her body carrying the weight of too many secrets.
“Where’s Balor and Ziggy?” Callan asks, breaking the silence. Mina’s head tilts slightly and she looks away, her expression unreadable.
I glance back at the painting, something nagging at the edges of my awareness.Wait. My heart jumps, and I move closer to the canvas,leaning in until the fine details snap into focus. The marks—our mate marks—glow white, almost luminous against the dark paint. My pulse quickens as I silently trace each mark with my eyes, pointing them out one by one. Abraxis. Klauth. Callan. My gargoyle form.
It’s only then that I notice them.Thauglor. Leander.And two shadow outlines.
The air leaves my chest in a rush, and I stumble back, twisting my head sharply to where Leander stands behind us. “What?” he asks, stepping forward, his gaze flickering between the painting and me.
I don’t need to say it. The truth is already staring him in the face. Two half-moon white marks gleam on the thick black neck of Thauglor’s painted form. They’re unmistakable. They match the marks Leander bears. He stiffens, his focus snapping to Mina before darting to Abraxis, as if searching for confirmation.
“Oh,” Abraxis breathes, stepping closer to examine the painting. His sharp features soften with realization.
Mina’s silence is deafening. She doesn’t even look at us; her gaze fixed somewhere far away, as though bracing for the impact of what she’s just revealed. The truth presses down like a suffocating weight: Mina didn’t just paint her mates.
She painted all of her mates. And two unknown shadows.
Klauth. Thauglor. Leander. All of us bound to her—and to each other—in ways we’re only beginning to understand.
Abraxis pulls Mina onto his lap, his arms curling protectively around her. She melts into him, as though his touch is the only thing keeping her steady. “When does this happen?” he murmurs against her temple, his lips brushing the soft skin there. His voice is quiet, almost tender, but the weight of his question fills the room.
“Sometime between now and my third year,” Mina replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She sighs, a heaviness in her tone that makes something inside me tighten.
I glance at Leander, noticing how pale he’s gone. The fear in his eyes is raw, like he’s bracing for the worst. The tension between him and Abraxis is palpable, but I don’t look away. “When does Leander become a mate?” I ask, cutting through the silence. Leander flinches, his gaze darting toward Mina as if searching for reassurance.
Mina’s shoulders slump. “I realized last week,” she whispers, her voice cracking at the edges, “when I kissed the crown of his head as I passed him … and neither of us got sick.” Her breath hitches, and tears slide down her cheeks, glistening in the dim light. “My dragoness chose him. He has the choice to not accept, though.” She pauses, trembling, as she presses her forehead against Abraxis’s neck, hiding her face. “He just needs to look into our eyes and reject the bond.”
Abraxis holds her tighter as she shakes in his arms, her muffled sobs betraying the strength she’s trying so hard to maintain. The sight of her vulnerability twists something deep inside me, a blend of frustration and helplessness.
“What do you want me to do? Tell me, and I’ll do it,” Leander says, stepping forward. His eyes are locked on Abraxis now, steady despite the fear shadowing his expression.
Abraxis lifts his gaze to meet Leander’s, his jaw tight, but his voice surprisingly calm. “Take time to think about what you really want. Then make the best decision for you. You will not be kicked out of the nest if you reject the bond.”
Without another word, Abraxis stands, cradling Mina in his arms like she’s something fragile and precious. He carries her into the back room, away from the weight of our stares and the tension in the air.
As the door closes behind them, silence settles over us like a heavy shroud. My fists clench at my sides, and I force myself to focus on my breathing, keeping my emotions in check. But one glance at Leander tells me everything I need to know—he’s unraveling, caught in a storm he didn’t ask for.
“What do I do?” Leander’s voice wavers as he looks between me, Callan, and then Ziggy, searching for an answer that won’t tear him apart inside.
Ziggy shrugs, his grin sharp and unapologetic. “Don’t look at me, man. I’d say hell to the yes if I was chosen.” His calm confidence throws Leander off balance, and it’s almost satisfying to see the crack in his usual composure.
Leander huffs, running a hand through his hair as he mutters, “There’s so many dragons in the bond. Or will be. You know how they get…” His voice trails off, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. We all do. The memory of Mina’s last yearly—how we’d been forced to sedate her to keep her from destroying herself and everything around her. The raw power. The chaos.
Callan steps forward, his calm demeanor unshaken as he rests a hand on Leander’s shoulder. “Yes, we’ve got three dragons to help endure her aggression when the time comes—when we’re ready to have kids.” He pauses, a dark humor tugging at his lips. “But I don’t know about you, Leander. I don’t fancy getting torn to shreds just to bring a child into the world.”
The corners of my mouth twitch in response to Callan’s bluntness, but I don’t let the amusement show. Callan moves to the kitchenette, his focus shifting as he sets a kettle on the stove to boil water for tea. The quiet clink of the teapot fills the room, a stark contrast to the weight of the conversation hanging over us.
The whistle of the kettle almost drowns out the sounds coming from Mina’s bedroom. Almost. Moans, growls, and the occasional crash or snap of something breaking echo down the hallway. I shift uncomfortably, my eyes fixed on the paintings hanging on the wall in front of me. We all do—pretending we don’t hear it.
Ziggy, ever calm, drops tea bags into mugs and pours hot water before bringing the tray to the table. He sets it down with a soft clink and studies the nearest painting, like he’s analyzing a battlefield.
“So, if this painting is accurate, Mina will have six mates in her nest?” Ziggy asks, his voice infuriatingly even.
“As of right now, yes,” Callan replies, glancing briefly at the egg carrier on the table beside him.
“What do you mean,as of right now?” Leander asks, stirring his tea without looking up.
Callan exhales through his nose, his gaze sharpening as he scrutinizes the painting. “Some dragonesses have eight to ten males in their nest,” he says, his voice carrying a note of careful thought. “Mina’s being strategic, if you ask me.”
