Page 12 of Thauglor
“Rest easy, old friend,” he murmurs to the egg. His tone is dipped in respect and understanding. “A descendant of your line stands in our nest. We are safe.” The knowledge that my bloodline continues, that my young survived the centuries, fills me with pride that tastes like victory.
Part of me wants to laugh at his formal tone. I stay fully aware that a descendant of my line lives here. Mina made him touch my shell just like she did with Klauth when he was imprisoned. Whenever Mina becomes a little stressed, I try to soothe her the best I can. I send waves of calm through our bond, offering what comfort my cursed state allows. Mentally, I count the days until I’m free, marking each day that brings me closer to holding my mate in my arms instead of feeling her only through the barrier of this damned shell.
The hope that once seemed impossible now burns steadily and bright. Soon, I tell myself. Soon I’ll taste freedom again, and this time it will be sweeter because I’ll share it with the one who fought for me when no one else would.
Chapter Eleven
Mina hasthe gauntlet to run today, and this time I get to wait for her to return. The anticipation gnaws at me like acid eating through stone. I was left behind in her chambers, where the air smells of her unique scent—pine needles and ozone with an undertone of something deadly. As hard as I’ve tried to fight it, sleep eventually claims me. The darkness pulls me under like deep water, heavy and suffocating.
I feel the minute Mina picks me back up. Her hands shake slightly as they cradle my shell, the tremors vibrating through the curved surface. In a hushed tone, she tells me about the act she’s about to perform. Her breath feels warm against the shell as she whispers her plan. She’s going to fake Klauth’s egg going dormant—a deception that could save us both. Tactically brilliant on our mate’s part. The cunning in her voice makes my chest swell with pride. I wonder if she’s part black dragon, or if this is the killer instinct of the green dragon in her veins. Either way, her strategic mind impresses me more each day.
When she starts her performance, I can feel the pain through our bond like shards of glass cutting through my consciousness. Theagony hits me in waves, each one more devastating than the last. I see the moment the gauntlet failed and killed her—all because her father tampered with part of it. The vision burns through our connection: twisted metal, the taste of blood, her body broken on stone. She died, and the trauma of that death echoes through every cell of her being.
“Miss Mina? Is something wrong with the red egg?” That headmaster’s voice grates against my nerves like claws on a chalkboard. I want to melt him into a puddle of goo, then squish him underfoot until nothing remains but stains on stone.
“He went dormant while I ran the gauntlet...” I feel the pain rocket down the bond from Mina like lightning striking my very soul. The ache centers in her chest, where her heart should feel whole but instead carries the weight of rejection. Her mother rejected her because of her scale color—cast aside for being different, for being exactly what she was born to be. My poor mate will never know this kind of pain once I’m able to be free again. I’ll make sure of it. I hear the hollow sound as she gives him back the empty shell of Klauth’s egg. The noise echoes like bones rattling in a tomb.
“Why not give me the black egg as well? I’ll take them back to their resting place,” he says. His voice carries false concern that makes my scales crawl with revulsion. A growl builds in my throat that has nowhere to go. I’m definitely going to hunt his ass down and melt him where he stands. The promise tastes like copper and satisfaction in my mouth.
Mina’s bond ignites like a torch touched to oil. I feel the sizzle of her power surfacing, crackling through the air like electricity before a storm. The energy makes my shell vibrate with sympathetic resonance. “He’s mine until he decides I am unworthy,” she declares. Her grip on my egg tightens until Ican feel the pressure through the shell. I can hear and feel her dragoness dangerously close to the surface—power barely leashed, waiting to be released. The air around us heats like standing too close to a forge. Maybe my mate will roast the headmaster herself? The thought fills me with dark anticipation.
“I suggest you leave, Headmaster. I am hungry and agitated. We wouldn’t want an accident... like with the spiders in the gauntlet.” Her voice drops to a lethal purr that makes my blood sing with pride.Oh boy. A hungry dragoness is never a fun opponent. They can be downright vicious when pushed. The threat hangs in the air like smoke, promising violence if he doesn’t retreat.
Mina eventually relaxes, and I can only guess the headmaster has left. The tension bleeds from her muscles, and her grip on my shell loosens to something more protective than possessive. Her breathing slows from the rapid rhythm of barely controlled rage to something steadier.
Klauth makes a startling discovery within the nest. Through our connection, I feel his assessment hit like a physical blow. The nest is unbalanced, teetering on the edge of dysfunction. Part of the reason is that Mina doesn’t feel safe—her stress radiates through the walls like heat from an oven. The other problem makes my non-existent stomach clench with frustration: my bonehead descendant didn’t make her submit during her yearly cycle. The failure burns like acid in my throat.
It’s going to be an uphill battle if what I’ve heard proves accurate. If our mate is bigger and stronger than my descendant, then it would be best for Klauth to take over as lead drake. The hierarchy needs proper establishment before chaos erupts. It’s either that, or she’s going to accidentally kill her mate andhave to deal with the aftermath later. The thought of her grief-stricken and alone makes my chest tight with panic.
I need to hatch and help my old friend set the nest right. The urgency builds inside me like pressure in a steam engine. Every day I remain trapped is another day the delicate balance could shatter. My mate deserves a stable home, a safe nest where she can thrive instead of merely survive. And I’ll be damned if I stay in this shell one moment longer than necessary while she suffers above me.
The hope that’s been growing stronger each day now burns like a beacon in the darkness. Soon, I tell myself. Soon I’ll be free to protect what’s mine.
I feelwhen I’m in my oldest ally’s possession, and it allows me to be semi-awake. The familiar weight of Klauth’s presence seeps through the shell like warmth from a banked fire. I also sense the moment we return to the ancient nesting ground from which I was hatched. The very air tastes different here—thick with history and the lingering scent of generations of my bloodline. It feels like forever and a day since I’ve been home. The stones beneath us vibrate with memories carved deep into their foundations.
Mina shows me to someone, and I feel the atmosphere shift around us. The air grows heavy and electric, as if time stands still for a moment. Power radiates from whomever she’s presenting me to—old power that makes my scales prickle even withinthe shell. It’s also the moment Mina finds out that Klauth is honestly dragonic royalty, and it wasn’t just deference for his age. The revelation hits like thunder rolling across mountains. Things become muddled after that, voices blending together in a confusion of politics and ancient bloodlines.
It’s not until I can feel Mina’s anger that I awaken again fully. The emotion blazes through our bond like molten metal, making my confined muscles tense. Someone or something has pissed her off royally, and for once I’m happy I’m within this prison. Her rage carries the promise of violence, and I’d rather not be in the path of destruction when a green dragoness loses her temper.
We arrive back in Mina’s nest, and she tells me she’s placing me in her poison garden. The air here smells thick with deadly botanicals—sweet scents that mask lethal intent. As much as I want to remain at her side, what she relayed to me makes sense. She needs time with the mates outside of the egg, needs physical comfort I cannot provide from within this cursed shell. I can’t hold her or please her how she needs right now. The limitation burns through me like acid. She kisses the shell, and I sigh, feeling the love she has for me through the beginning of our bond. The warmth of her lips against the surface sends comfort spiraling through my cramped form.
The next morning she retrieves me, and I feel the love pour over me like honey warmed by sunlight. The emotion flows through our connection in golden waves. “I’m so happy being the center of your world right now,” I say, hoping she hears me clearly through whatever barrier separates us.
I hear her soft laughter, like silver bells chiming in a gentle breeze. “He’s happy he’s the center of attention now,” Mina says to Klauth from what I’m sensing. Their voices carry the easyaffection of established bonds. They speak about her poison garden and how things in there can kill him but not her. The casual way she discusses deadly plants makes my chest swell with pride.
Our mate is truly amazing to be immune to such dangerous things. The rarity of her gifts becomes more apparent each day. We meet up with the rest of the nest, and I swear my descendant has a death wish. He seems to love pissing our mate off to no end. Each confrontation I sense through the bond makes my claws itch to teach him proper respect. Betrothals never existed in my time, and I’ll be damned if anyone asks for a betrothal of any female of my bloodline. The very concept makes my dragon snarl with outrage.
Mina strokes my shell lovingly, her fingers tracing patterns that send shivers of pleasure through me. I guess my inside voice became my outside voice again. The bond carries more than I intend sometimes.
The evening winds down, and apparently my mate sparred with my descendant and beat him. She is truly a powerful dragoness to have accomplished that feat. Just off basic biology, he should have been able to overpower her with sheer size and strength. The fact that she won speaks to a skill that takes centuries to develop. When we return to the nest, there’s tension thick enough to cut with claws. Apparently, my descendant didn’t get our mate to submit during her yearly cycle, and he lets her dominate him instead.
What happened to black dragons being dangerous and feared? The disappointment tastes bitter in my mouth. My bloodline was once known for strength and dominance, for dragons who commanded respect through power and will. Now my descendant cowers before a female he should protect and guide.Don’t get me wrong—I respect our mate’s strength. But the natural order exists for a reason, and when it’s disrupted, chaos follows.
The nest feels unbalanced, like a structure missing its foundation stones. Tension crackles through the air like electricity before a storm. If I were free, this wouldn’t be happening. I’d set the hierarchy straight while still honoring our mate’s incredible abilities. There’s a difference between respecting strength and abandoning leadership entirely.
My hope burns brighter than ever. Soon, I tell myself. Soon I’ll be free to help restore balance while cherishing the remarkable female who fought for my freedom. She deserves a mate who can match her strength, not cower from it.
Chapter Twelve
