Page 82 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
I flyto the ruins of what used to be Klauth’s kingdom. The jagged remains of tall spires and fractured walls loom against the sinking sun, their silhouettes dark and foreboding. The cool evening air blows across the bay from the Whispering Sea, carrying with it the tang of salt and the faint stench of rotting kelp. Debris from collapsed rooftops crunches beneath my talons as I land, my iron and emerald scales chiming against the rubble.
I remain in my dragoness form, letting the sun’s last rays ripple over my armored hide. The warmth against my scales contrasts sharply with the chill wind whistling through the decaying archways. I draw in several deep breaths, tasting the brine of the sea on my tongue, and raise my frill high before unleashing a thunderous roar. My call echoes off of the blackened stones, and my dragoness rumbles with a familiar song. The same one she sang when his egg ignited all those months ago. I stretch my wings wide, feeling the leathery membrane pull taut, each small glittering scales catching the dying light in a dazzling show.
For almost an hour, I call out into the desolate twilight. My throat grows hoarse, and the scent of dust mingles with the sulfuric hint of my breath. At last, I hear an answering roar in the distance—a deep, resonant challenge carried on the wind. I roar again, instructing Klauth where to find me. He sweeps over the coastline from the north, a colossal shape silhouetted against the burning sky. He circles overhead, his massive wings stirring up gusts of dry, ancient air swirl grit against my scales.
When he finally lands a few hundred feet away, the ground trembles beneath his weight, vibrating through my talons. I lift my head to take him in. He’s far more imposing than I remember—easily over a hundred thirty feet long and about seventy feet tall, his scaled hide a burnished crimson. I was naïve to think him just a wyrm drake; he’s a true great wyrm, towering over my mere thirty-foot frame. His single wing alone out spans my entire body.
I shift back into my human form, the grating scrape of bone and scale yielding to soft flesh, and the sudden chill of the salty evening air prickles my skin. I step forward, tilting my head up to see his massive horned face. “Klauth?” I yell, hoping my voice carries over the distant crash of waves.
He cocks his enormous head, eyes like molten embers as he studies me. I can see the faint wisps of steam escaping from his nostrils when he exhales. “Thank you for saving me,” I say, stepping back several feet so I can take in the sheer breadth of him. The air around me smells of scorched stone, and his heat radiates in waves, making my skin prickle.
Klauth lowers his snout to sniff at me, then snorts, lifting his head high. The force of his breath rustles my hair, and I catch the metallic tang of my blood on the wind. “It’s only a minor wound,” I assurehim, though my legs still feel weak. “It could have been worse if you didn’t make it in time.”
I sense the tense rumble rolling through his chest, a low growl of displeasure at the thought of me being hurt. The vibrations linger in the air, prickling my senses. “My father is a male without honor,” I explain quietly, my voice barely carrying above the whispers of wind and distant surf. “He stole my mother from her mate just so he could have me. He wanted an iron dragon female to bear his young.”
I look down at my hands and will them to shift. My iron and emerald gauntlets slide into place, catching the last of the fading light. A heavy sadness settles over me as I recall the darkness of my lineage. The dying sun glints across the ruins, reflecting on the scales of my gauntlets—a reminder of both my strength and the burdens I carry.
To my surprise, Klauth lowers his massive body onto the cracked stones beneath us, his scales rasping over the remnants of what was once a grand courtyard. We are on the peninsula jutting into an inky sea, the wind heavy with the tang of salt and decay. The crescent moon hangs low as day gives way to night, drenching the ruins in ghostly silver, illuminating broken towers and collapsed arches—echoes of the kingdom Klauth once ruled.
A breeze whips at my sundress, lifting it around my thighs and chilling the exposed scales trailing down my spine. I approach him, the crunch of debris echoing in this desolate place. “I’m going to preen your scales,” I say, my voice soft but firm as it carries over the gentle roar of distant waves. “You have a few places where the dead scales are built up.” The hollow stillness here feels weighted, as though haunted by the memories buried beneath toppled columns and shattered statues.
Klauth’s enormous crimson flecked amber eye follows me, gleaming in the fading light. I tilt my head to meet his gaze, then lift my hair to reveal the scales fanning across my shoulders and down my neck. “I have six other mates in my nest,” I continue, a note of quiet pride threading through my words. The wind tugs at my locks, and the edge of my scales scrapes lightly against the straps of my sundress—an oddly comforting reminder of my own dragonic nature.
Slowly, I move to stand beside Klauth’s head. The stone beneath my feet is cold and damp, thanks to the surf pounding the cliffs below, sending spray high into the air. With careful precision, I pick at the dead patches on his face. Each fragment falls away with a faint, brittle snap, exposing the lustrous new plating underneath. A deep, rumbling purr escapes his throat, vibrating through me like a distant thunder roll.
He’s calmer than I expected—an unexpected mercy in this forsaken place. My biggest hurdle now is coaxing forth his human half. “I’ve started digging my own nest,” I say, focusing on a stubborn patch near his jaw. His eye flutters open, sharp interest piercing the darkness. “I’m not expecting eggs yet,” I admit, the wind tugging at my words, “but I want them someday. I need a safe place first. Maybe you and Abraxis could create some dragon glass for the walls? I’d feel secure if you did.”
A low rumble resonates from deep in Klauth’s chest, dislodging dust and small stones around him. My mind drifts, picturing how these ruins might have once looked—graceful archways, sunlit courtyards bustling with life, banners snapping in a sea breeze that didn’t carry the stench of old grief. Now, the moonlight reveals only ragged outlines and broken silhouettes, swallowed by brambles and creeping shadows.
I finish one side of his face and shift to the other. Each dead scale I pry loose drops to the ground with a soft clink, and I savor the way he relaxes under my touch. Ancient dragons like Klauth cling to their old scales much longer than younger ones like me, and this act of tending fosters a bond as old as dragon kind itself.
“I had a dream of what your human side looks like,” I venture, voice hushed. His eyelid flickers, then closes again. The chilly night air tastes of salt and old sorrow, but I inhale slowly, centering myself. Moon shadows dance across Klauth’s hide, and his warmth radiates through the stones, pulsing in time with the comforting rumble of his purr. Despite the lingering chill of these devastated ruins, something in his steady acceptance makes me feel … unexpectedly safe.
“Your eyes, like mine, stay the same color in both forms.” I whisper, my voice nearly drowned out by the rhythmic crash of waves on the stones behind us. I shift closer to the dragon’s colossal head and begin tracing the scales near his horn, the tips of my talons grazing the ridges. A salty breeze filters through the air, brushing strands of my hair against my cheeks. It tastes faintly of brine when I wet my lips.
“Crimson-flecked amber,” I continue, marveling at the way the moonlight catches on his scale patterns. “It’s a beautiful combination.” My fingers slide over the warm grooves, each scale as smooth as polished stone. Then I pull back my talons fully and place my human palm flat against the broad expanse of his cheek.
“Your hair should be a shade of russet or auburn, if your scales are any indication,” I murmur, inhaling the faint mineral scent rising off his hide. “Maybe, like me, the hair underneath is darker, perhaps a burnt umber for yours.” His great eyelid lifts slowly, revealing that mesmerizing gaze, and my stomach flutters in response. The air feels suddenly charged—like just before a summer storm—prickling over my skin.
“You more than likely have scars all over your body,” I add, letting my hand travel higher until it reaches the deep talon mark along his eye ridge. The wound is old, the surrounding scales faintly raised, rough against my fingertips. “Because of the scars on your scales,” I explain in a hushed tone. My heart thuds heavily in my chest. His breath hitches, a subtle sign he’s reacting to my touch, or maybe to my prying words.
Slowly, I straighten and move to stand in front of him, my sandals scraping against coarse stone. I can feel the chill of the evening air nipping at my neck, but the dragon’s warm exhalations wash over my face like intermittent gusts of heat. Tilting my head to one side, I fight the urge to step even closer. “I know you’re my mate,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I feel it. I’ve felt it since your egg started responding to me … since you started responding to me.”
I tilt my head the opposite way, pulse thrumming in my ears. “May I see your human side? Hold you in my arms.” It’s a huge request, and the gravity of it sinks like a stone in my stomach. A thousand years—that’s how long he’s been imprisoned. Who knows what that kind of confinement does to a man’s mind, especially if it was a forced sleep or worse.
My eyes slide shut, and I bow my head in a gesture of trust, the wet wind teasing the ends of my hair. The possibility of danger—it hovers at the edge of my awareness like a knife’s edge glinting in the darkness. My heart beats faster, a steady drum in my chest that seems to echo off the fractured walls.
I listen to the surf, feel the trembling hum of my anticipation, and sense the faint tug from Abraxis along our bond. I send a reassuring caress back, letting him know I’m safe … or as safe as I can be right now. Then I feel it. A sudden warmth before me, heat rolling off something in front of me in soft waves. I keep my eyes closed, trusting him to do the right thing. My breath catches in my throat, tension coiled tight as a spring, and I wait for whatever form he decides to show me.
My eyes pop open the moment I hear his rough, unused voice: “Mate…”
Blinking, I look up into the most beautiful eyes—crimson flecked amber, glowing with a quiet intensity. A hint of salt-laced wind drifts across my face from the nearby ocean, heightening my awareness of him. My fingertips tremble slightly as I reach up to touch the sides of his broad temples, trailing down until I can cup his cheeks. He stands over six and a half feet tall, thick shoulders tapering into a powerful torso, just like my visions hinted.
“Mate…” I repeat softly, the word a breath of relief and longing on my lips. He bands his muscular arms around me and pulls me against his solid chest, the heat of his body almost scorching through my clothes. I inhale the raw, smoky scent that clings to his skin—like embers after a forest fire. Happy tears fill my eyes, sliding down my cheeks as I lift my arms to loop around his neck. I press a gentle kiss to his lips, tasting a mix of warmth and ash.
He breaks the kiss and watches the tears roll down my face. His thumb skims across my skin, wiping the drops away. There’s a tenderness in his expression as his gaze roams over me, studying each angle and curve. “Why do you cry, mate?” His breath ghosts over my cheek before he leans in, nuzzling my skin with a low rumble of contentment.
“I’m happy,” I murmur. “Happy the books were wrong. They all said you would more than likely kill me.” I can almost hear my heart thundering in my ears as I watch his eyes shift between human and dragon—a mesmerizing dance ofcolor and dangerous promise.
