Page 7 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
Ziggy doesn’t flinch. He shakes his head, his expression grim. “No can do. Not unless her life is in immediate danger or she loses her spot here.”
The weight of those bloody rules settles over me like a shroud, suffocating. My jaw tightens, teeth grinding as I glare at the gauntlet, desperate for any sign of her. The urge to break every damn rule and go after her myself burns in my chest, but I know better. She’s in there because she has to be. Because she won’t let anyone save her unless it’s the only option left. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be ready to tear the place apart the second she needs me.
We wait, the air thick with tension, every second dragging like an eternity. Then, finally, the lower door on the first wing creaks open. My breath catches as Mina emerges, limping, her face pale but determined. In her left hand, she’s holding the severed head of an ambush drake. Blood drips from it, pooling on the ground as she steps into the light.
I don’t wait. I sprint toward her, my boots echoing against the cold stone floor. “Mina!” I call, slipping under her right shoulder without hesitation, my arm around her waist to steady her. She leans into me, her body trembling slightly.
“What happened?” My voice is low, urgent, and edged with the frustration of not having the others here. I glance around, half expecting another threat to emerge from the shadows.
“Not here,” she says, her voice firm despite her clear exhaustion. She grips the severed head tighter, as though it’s a trophy, a warning to anyone watching.
I nod and guide her to the bench where I’ve been waiting, lowering her carefully onto it. The medics rush over, their expressions grim as they kneel to assess her injuries. One of them cuts away her pant leg, revealing a mess of haphazardly bandaged wounds. Four deep punctures mark her thigh, blood oozing from the ambush drake’s bite. The edges of the wounds glisten with something dark—poison.
I grit my teeth, fury surging. “Damn it, Mina,” I mutter, but she interrupts me with a smirk, her voice tinged with weary amusement.
“Remember,” she says, tilting her head toward me, “I’m immune to toxins and poisons.” Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a spark of defiance in them, even now. “I’m just tired and a little weak from blood loss, that’s all.”
She forces a smile, though it’s faint and brittle. Then, with a casualness that makes my stomach turn, she drops the severed head beside her on the bench. It lands with a dull thud, its lifeless eyes staring at nothing. Her smirk deepens, and for a moment, I don’t know whether to be impressed or furious.
I settle on both. “You’re reckless,” I say, my voice low, but she just shrugs, leaning back against the bench like she’s already planning her next move.
“I wasn’t reckless. I slipped on her blood. I miscalculated.” Mina’s voice is steady, but her smile is forced, a shield to keep us at bay. Ziggy appears with a protein shake and water, handing them to her like it’s a peace offering. She takes them with a small smile, though her hands tremble slightly.
We all fall silent as the medics work on her, cleaning the wound and stitching her up with precision. Vaughn rejoins us after finishing his part of the gauntlet, his steps purposeful but heavy with frustration. “No one warned me Abraxis was in there,” he mutters, shaking his head as he opens his jacket to reveal the deep talon marks scoring his chest.
Mina leans forward, inspecting the wounds with a faint smile tugging at her lips. “He could have killed you,” she says, her voice eerily calm, as though discussing the weather. “Apparently, he respects you enough to only cut you. If he’d angled his talons a little more, he would have shredded your lung.” Her detached observation makes the medics pause mid-motion, their disbelief palpable.
“All done, Ms. Havock. Give our respect to the General,” one of them says finally, their voice tinged with nervousness as they bow and step away, leaving us alone.
Mina’s gaze flicks to the severed head lying nearby, her expression unreadable, then back to us. Her voice drops, barely a whisper. “I have the egg.”
The words hit like a thunderclap. My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, it feels like time freezes.The egg.The ambush drake had it, and Mina took it.How did she manage it? Why didn’t she tell us earlier?
“We need to tell Lysander,” I say, glancing around until I spot the headmaster watching from his high perch, his hawk-like gaze missing nothing.
“No.” Mina’s voice sharpens, a low, protective growl that sends a shiver down my spine. “We wait for Abraxis. When he’s done toying with the student body, then we’ll tell Lysander. Not a moment sooner.” Her tone brooks no argument, and her eyes burn with the fierce, possessive glint of her dragoness.
She’s claimed the egg. Another one for her hoard. And no one—not even Lysander—will take it from her.
The death toll from this year’s Gauntlet far surpasses last year’s—by several hundred. The survivors who were pulled out have the option to reapply next year, but those who failed? They’re either dead or relegated to general education, stripped of whatever designation they’d been striving for. The Academy is ruthless, as it should be. Weakness isn’t tolerated here.
Mina is asleep in my arms, her breathing steady, her head tucked against my chest. The egg is zipped tight inside the leather jacket she wears. Its presence is a secret we’re not ready to share yet. I hold her carefully, my gaze fixed on the last of the bodies being dragged out of the Gauntlet arena. Only when the mess is cleared does Abraxis finally rejoin us.
Without a word, he scoops Mina up from my lap, cradling her close. The low, resonant rumble of his dragon fills the space between us, and I hear the soft, sleepy answer from hers. A faint smile blooms onher lips as she stirs, her arms curling around his neck. Even half-asleep, she moves to Abraxis instinctively.
“Another victory, my love?” Abraxis murmurs, his eyes sliding to the severed ambush drake’s head resting on the bench beside me.
“Of course,” Mina replies softly, her voice thick with exhaustion. She yawns, pressing her nose under his jaw in a gesture of submission and affection, her natural grace cutting through the tension of the moment. “But we have bigger concerns.” Her fingers tap lightly against Abraxis’s wing, and he responds immediately, folding it around her.
I hear the faint sound of the zipper, followed by a sharp inhale from Abraxis. His whole body stiffens, and I don’t have to look to know what she’s showing him. The zipper closes again just before he unfurls his wings.
“Let’s return to the room and discuss this as a nest,” Abraxis says, his voice calm but heavy with meaning. His gaze sweeps over each of us, lingering on Mina before he takes off into the air, the soft whisper of his wings carrying them both away.
“You need to carry the head,” I say, nodding toward Mina’s gruesome trophy.
Vaughn sneers, his lip curling in disgust. “Why? That’s revolting.”
I glare at him, my tone brooking no argument. “Never question the will of dragons. Her dragoness wanted the head, or she wouldn’t have claimed it.”
