Page 49 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
A sharp crack in the ceiling catches my attention, and I pause, tilting my head to study it. “Look,” I say, my voice cutting through the silence as I point to where large fissures spiderweb across the wall and ceiling. The jagged lines seem to pulse in the flickering light of Callan’s lantern, as though alive.
Callan steps close, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the frigid air that clings to my skin. He presses a soft kiss to my temple, his sigh brushing against my ear. “It’s structurally not sound enough to trust you sleeping in here,” he murmurs, his tone resigned. His words weigh heavily on me, and my chest tightens. The fear of not knowing where I’ll rest during my yearly coils in my stomach, sharp and biting.
“We’ll figure something out,” Balor says, but his forced smile doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s a tension between us now, thick and unspoken, ever since he confessed his feelings.
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat, and turn away. The opening the guys used to enter the chamber looms ahead, a jagged hole in the stone like a wound. I start climbing through, the rough edges scraping my palms. The tunnel beyond is cramped, the air stale and tinged with an earthy scent.
The space opens up as we near the archway that leads to my garden, and the air shifts—lighter, fresher, carrying the faint tang of herbs and soil. Leander follows close behind, his fingers curling around mine in a reassuring squeeze. His warmth anchors me, and for a moment, the anxiety ebbing in my chest recedes.
When we step through the archway, I pause, relief washing over me. My poison herb garden is still intact, the vibrant green leaves glistening with dew. The sharp, heady aroma of nightshade and belladonna fills the air, a familiar, almost comforting scent.
“What’s that?” Leander asks, pointing to a small burrow nestled in the middle of the garden. We approach cautiously, the earth around it soft and freshly disturbed. A faint, sulfuric tang wafts up from the hollow. Inside, smooth, pale eggs glisten faintly, their surfaces strangely opalescent.
“I don’t know what type of eggs they are,” Callan says from behind me, his voice startlingly close. I jump, my heart racing as I whirl to glare at him.
“Neither do I, and nor do I want to find out,” I reply, my voice sharper than I intend. Grabbing their arms, I start dragging them out of the chamber, my urgency prickling like static beneath my skin.
At this point, I’m ready to wash my hands of what’s left of my father’s home. There’s nothing here for me but memories and danger. Hopefully, the guys have cleared enough of the chamber in the mountains for me to rest. Deep within the stone, I feel a pull—ancient, insistent, like a whispered call only I can hear. That’s where I need to be.
For now, I just need a place big enough for Abraxis to shift and stand guard while I sleep. The rest—the structure, the permanence—can wait.
CHAPTER 30
Vaughn
Sittingin the cafeteria with my clan feels strange without Mina. The usual chatter and clinking of utensils around us feels muted, like a dull hum in the back of my mind. Without her sharp presence, the room seems dimmer, less alive. The faint aroma of syrup and burnt toast wafts through the air, but it doesn’t stir my appetite. I push a chunk of waffle around on my plate, watching the syrup leave lazy trails.
With everything that’s been happening—and how many enemies are lurking—it’s probably safer she isn’t here. I glance toward the doors out of instinct. The hair on the back of my neck pricks like it always does when I think about her being alone. The naga have been keeping their distance, but only because the dragons from Shadowcarve are here to keep them in check. Their sharp gazes feel like a constant shadow in the corners of the academy.
“What’s it like being in a dragon’s nest?” Lyla asks, her voice soft as she huddles closer to her mate. Her question cuts through the tension in my mind, and I turn toward her.
“It’s not much different from how the clans are run, really,” I reply, setting my fork down and rubbing my palm over the back of my neck. The faint metallic tang of blood—probably from a naga fight earlier in the hall—lingers in the air, distracting me for a moment. “Abraxis, the male dragon in the nest, is the clear leader. Mina moves between her mates equally, so we’re never without her. We even have a schedule for quality time outside of the bedroom.” I pull out my phone and show them the family app that Callan found and set up for us. The glow of the screen feels oddly bright against the cafeteria’s flickering fluorescent lights.
“Since I’m in several classes with Mina and see her the most, I don’t have as much after-school time with her as the others.” My voice steadies as I speak, finding comfort in the routine we’ve carved out. “To me, it’s a fair trade. I still get my full night with her when it’s my turn and free daytime with her outside of school.”
“I never would have expected you to be okay with sharing your mate,” Marri says, his tone skeptical as he spears a piece of waffle on his fork. The dull scrape of metal on ceramic sets my teeth on edge.
“It was tough in the beginning,” I admit, laughing softly. The sound feels thin, almost out of place in the tension-charged air. I push the waffle chunk around on my plate again, this time savoring the sticky drag of syrup against the porcelain. “It took some getting used to, but we’ve found a rhythm that works for us, and we’re sticking to it.” Smiling, I pop the piece into my mouth. The sweetness coats my tongue, but it’s distant, like I’m tasting it through a veil.
My senses prickle before Ziggy manifests beside me. The air around him vibrating with an unnatural hum that makes my teeth ache. Most of the table jumps, a clatter of silverware against plates, and chairs screeching against the floor as people shift in alarm. Ziggy’s coldfingers clamp around my arm, his voice sharp and urgent. “We need to go.”
Before I can respond, the world blurs, and the cafeteria disappears. The transition leaves a queasy lurch in my stomach, and when my vision clears, we’re in Callan’s office. The room smells of parchment, ink, and something darker—magic, raw and acrid, lingering in the corners like smoke. My eyes land on Mina, perched on Abraxis’s lap, her shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world rests on them.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend as I move closer to her and Abraxis. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out the steady tick of the clock on Callan’s desk.
“Mina had another vision of the attack at the end of the year.” Callan’s tone is measured, but the grim lines on his face betray him. As soon as he mentions it, Mina buries her face against Abraxis’s neck, her small frame trembling. Abraxis’s arms tighten around her, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
“So what happens?” My gaze darts to the others, trying to piece together the shards of information. The tension in the room is palpable, pressing against my skin like static.
“While her father attacks her, Abraxis is already away fighting on the front lines. I apparently am wounded, and your amulet is stolen from you. You’re stuck as a statue,” Callan says, his voice heavy.
His eyes drift to Leander, who nods solemnly, his jaw clenched. “I get knocked out and shackled in a cell in the basement of Shadowcarve.”
I blink several times, trying to make sense of it all. The edges of the room seem to blur, my grip on reality slipping for a moment. “Who orchestrated the whole thing?” I ask, my voice hoarse. My gaze flicksbetween Abraxis and Callan, searching for answers in their unreadable expressions.
“My dad,” Mina murmurs, her voice barely audible. She sighs, her breath hitching slightly before she continues. “It’s him and Arista and her entire nest.”
Her words hit like a sledgehammer, knocking the air from my lungs. I stagger back, the doorframe biting into my shoulders as I lean against it for support. The room feels colder now, the shadows darker, as the weight of her revelation settles over us like a suffocating shroud.
