Page 42 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
CHAPTER 25
Mina
Cora,Cerce, and I gather in the one place the males can’t enter: the female bathing chambers. The air is thick with the scent of sulfur and minerals, the natural aroma of the hot springs, mingling with the faint floral oils we use to cleanse our skin. The steam hangs heavy, curling in tendrils around the jagged stone walls, muffling the occasional drip of water from the stalactites above. The warmth seeps into my skin, soothing the ever-present ache in my muscles.
We soak in the natural hot spring chamber, the water so clear I can see the faint shimmer of silver flakes in the stones beneath the surface. Heat pulses up my body, relaxing my shoulders for the first time in what feels like days. “We seem to be in the middle of a war,” Cerce says calmly, leaning back against the edge of the pool, her golden eyes distant. The steam clings to her skin, softening her usually sharp features.
“Mom, you’re worrying too much,” Cora replies, reclining deeper until only her head remains above the water. Tiny ripples lap at her chin asshe lets out a sigh, the tension melting from her. The healing properties of the hot spring—an ancient gift from the earth—wrap around us like a balm.
“She’s not wrong,” I say, my gaze drifting to Iris. My little familiar sprawls protectively over the cursed eggs at the edge of the chamber, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. The eggs shimmer faintly in the firelight, a mix of black and crimson hues reflected in the still puddles around them. “Something is going on behind the scenes.”
I close my eyes and let the warmth cocoon me, my emerald and silver hair floating around me like tendrils of seaweed. The sound of Cerce shifting in the water breaks my thoughts. I feel the faint ripples lap against my sides moments later.
“What makes you say that?” she asks, her voice curious but laced with tension.
“Think of this as a gigantic game of chess,” I say, sitting up as droplets slide from my arms and ripple into the pool. I motion to the water between the three of us. “Your family rejects the petition of the fire drakes to allow a marriage between Abraxis and Arista.” I hold up one finger, water trickling down from my hand.
Cerce sighs, her breath disturbing the steam around her. “I knew you two were mates when you hatched. I couldn’t allow it to proceed. The fire drakes were a backup if your mother didn’t hatch a daughter.” Her gaze shifts to Cora, and her voice softens as she adds, “The blues were to open trade into their province.” Her hands move gently through the water, creating mesmerizing ripples. “I’m happy you found your mate first.” Her voice drops to a whisper, haunted and heavy.
I watch her closely. Her golden eyes don’t meet mine, staring instead at the water as though it might hold answers. “Who was your mate?”I ask bluntly, my voice slicing through the intimate quiet. I’ve seen this look before—Vox wore it not long ago.
“A pegasus,” Cerce admits, her cheeks flushing faintly as she lets out a soft, almost wistful laugh. “He was so beautiful. Fur as white as fallen snow.” Her voice trembles, and she closes her eyes. “My father caught us kissing and killed him where he stood. A dragon bond above all else,” she says, staring down into the rippling water. Her grief is palpable, an invisible weight pressing down on the humid air.
“I’m sorry…” My words feel inadequate, sinking like stones into the depths between us. Abraxis’s parents shared similar stories, forbidden loves cut short by duty and the brutal politics of our kind.
Cora’s face pales, her gaze flitting between her mother and me. “What’s the second thing?” she asks, clearly desperate for a change of subject. The steam wraps around us like a shroud as I straighten, the movement sending ripples outward.
“Someone let the ambush drake into the egg chamber,” I say, my tone firm. The words hang in the humid air, a stark contrast to the soothing warmth of the water. “There are only four people with access: three elders and the headmaster. So one or more of them is working with Arista’s flight.” My certainty is absolute, a weight that even the soothing waters can’t dissolve. Late last night, I shared my suspicions with Abraxis and my nest. They agreed—there’s too much lining up to be coincidence.
“That’s a terrifying thought,” Cora murmurs, her gaze darting around the chamber’s fire lit walls as though expecting danger to emerge from the shadows.
“It is,” I reply, meeting her wide-eyed stare. “And the worst part is my father was close with the elders and the headmaster. That connectionis another angle to worry about.” My voice drops, the memory clawing at the edges of my mind. I glance at Iris. “It’s not like my father hasn’t killed me before, to make a point.”
Both women nod solemnly. They know the story, how my father’s wrath murdered me in the middle of a run through his horrid gauntlet. Some scars never heal.
“The guys want us to combine nests,” Cora says, breaking the heavy silence.
“I’m painfully aware,” I mutter, exhaling. I glance at Cerce, then back at Cora. “I don’t know how they expect us to do that. I don’t even like other females visiting my nest.” A low rumble escapes me, vibrating the surrounding water.
“The last time I visited, you didn’t mind,” Cora counters with a teasing smile.
“You were unmated, and I had only one cursed egg.” I laugh, a bitter edge to the sound. “Your scent is changing, and that will make me react poorly.” I motion toward Cerce. “Ever wonder why there are certain parts of your home I refuse to enter? Your mom scent-marked areas as hers. Crossing that invisible line would lead to a fight.”
Cerce nods knowingly. “She’s telling the truth. You’ll learn soon enough. Walk the halls, and some areas will smell like danger to you.” Her frown deepens. “Such is the way of dragons.”
I spent a good part of the day with the other females in the nest, and it will not be easy. Cora’s changing scent—sharp and sweet, likeoverripe fruit—is going to make things harder to manage. It clings to the back of my throat even now, a reminder of the chaos brewing beneath the surface. When I get home, I claw my way up onto the roof of the house. The rough shingles scrape against my hands as I pull myself up, and the cool evening air brushes over my heated skin. Perched on the edge, I watch the sun melt into the horizon, smearing streaks of red and orange across the sky like blood on a canvas.
“My people generally sit on roofs to watch the world,” Vaughn says as he shifts back from his gargoyle form. The low, grinding sound of his transformation echoes in the stillness, followed by the dull thud of his feet landing beside me. He settles next to me on the edge of the roof, his presence solid, and grounding.
“It’s quiet up here.” My voice is barely above a whisper as I look down, my gaze following the clash of blades below. Callan and Abraxis spar in the courtyard, their swords glinting in the fading light. Each strike rings out, sharp and metallic, cutting through the evening calm. In the distance, Leander’s nightmare gallops across the sand, its hooves pounding a rhythmic beat that sends tremors through the ground. Flames lick at the creature’s heels, leaving trails of blackened glass in its wake.
“I might be new to this nest, but I can tell when something is bothering you.” Vaughn’s voice rumbles low, steady, as he pulls me against him. His arm wraps around my shoulders, warm and unyielding, and the scent of stone and earth clings to him—a constant reminder of his gargoyle nature.
“I’m not sure how we’re going to combine the nests for safety,” I admit, the frustration bubbling up in my chest. “Cora’s scent is changing, and it’s already irritating the shit out of me.” The scales on the back of my neck ripple, raising and lowering in time with myirritation. The sensation is a prickling itch, a physical manifestation of my unease.
Vaughn sighs, his breath ruffling my hair, and nods as his gaze follows mine to the courtyard below. “Is there alternate housing on campus? I mean, independent houses, maybe two close together?” His head tilts as he studies me, his stony features softened by the fading light.
“We’ll have to talk as a nest tonight.” I press a kiss to his cheek, my lips brushing against the cool, rough texture of his skin, before turning my attention back to the courtyard. “Mind flying us down there?” I know he loves carrying me as his gargoyle, and sure enough, his grin spreads wide—like a kid who just unwrapped the best present imaginable. Without hesitation, he shifts, the crackle of magic humming through the air as his gargoyle form takes over.
