Page 14 of Thauglor
Chapter Thirteen
Mina has takenme everywhere with her. From studying in the temple of Bahamut through her regular classes in school, I stay cradled against her warm body like a precious treasure. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat vibrates through the shell, becoming as familiar as my own pulse. She tells me about everything that’s happening around us as if I’m right there with her. Her voice carries me through the mundane details of academic life—the scratch of pens on paper, the shuffle of feet on stone floors, the whispered conversations of students around us.
I feel Mina’s dragoness bristle when a shrill female voice asks about the coronation. The tension coils through her muscles like a loaded spring, and I can taste the annoyance that floods our bond like bitter wine. Little does that female know that my mate will soon be her queen. I would love to see the day my mate wipes that smug look off her face with claws and righteous fury.
“I’d be more concerned about the third-year purge,” Mina’s basilisk mate says. His voice carries an ominous weight that makes my scales stand on edge even within the shell. The words hit the air like stones dropped into still water, sendingripples of tension through the gathered students. I listen to the banter around us, but it sounds more muffled than anything else—voices blending into a background hum of worry and speculation.
But what I do know is that my mate remains calm and relaxed at the idea of a purge. Her breathing is steady, her pulse unchanged. Where others show fear, she radiates anticipation that tastes like sharpened steel.
“Interesting post-birthday present,” Mina muses. Her birthday comes sometime before this horrible event, and I can hear the dark satisfaction in her tone. Mina’s hand caresses my shell with gentle strokes that sends warmth spiraling through my confined form. I feel her dragoness coiling and uncoiling its power like a serpent preparing to strike. “I’m leaving Thauglor with you for the purge.”
I’m apparently being entrusted to the basilisk for my care. The decision hits me like cold water down my spine.Why not Klauth?I would feel safer with my old comrade than with a new potential threat. The basilisk may be her mate, but centuries of friendship carry more weight than fresh bonds.
“Oh boy, that look tells me something just clicked for you,” the deep, resonant voice of her basilisk mate filters through the shell. His tone carries amusement mixed with wariness. My scales prickle with nervous energy, waiting to see what our mate says next. The anticipation hangs in the air like electricity before a storm.
“Klauth isn’t staff...” Mina says, and I can feel the sadistic glee filtering through our bond like honey laced with poison. The realization hits me with stunning clarity. I understand now why she’s leaving me with the basilisk—I’d feel better havingKlauth at her side during whatever carnage she’s planning. His centuries of battle experience could mean the difference between victory and disaster.
After class, she tells me her plans in whispered words that carry the weight of judgment. Her breath feels warm against the shell as she lists the names on her purge list. Each name tastes of old grievances and fresh wounds. She wants to purge an entire flight of firedrakes alone—a feat that would challenge even ancient dragons in their prime.
Any other female, I would forbid such reckless action. I’d use every ounce of authority and persuasion to keep her safe from such overwhelming odds. But my mate is unique. She’s powerful beyond her years and absolutely underestimated by those who judge her by age rather than ability. Her enemies see a young dragoness where they should see death incarnate.
The anticipation builds in my chest like pressure in a steam engine. Mina will have her revenge when this purge happens. She’ll show them exactly why underestimating a green dragoness hybrid is the last mistake they’ll ever make. Part of me wishes I could be there to witness the carnage, to see justice served with acid and claw. But another part of me is grateful I’ll be safely away from the battlefield—not because I fear for myself, but because I couldn’t bear to watch if something went wrong.
Soon,I tell myself as her warmth seeps through the shell. Soon I’ll be free to fight beside her instead of listening from the sidelines. Soon I’ll be the one protecting her instead of trusting others with her safety.
For what feels like forever,I rest in silence. The quiet presses against my consciousness like deep water, heavy and suffocating. Eventually, Mina comes for me, and the moment her hands touch my shell, warmth floods through the cursed barrier. She tells me about everything that happened to her, her voice hoarse with exhaustion and lingering pain.
She was shot and poisoned at the same time. The words hit me like physical blows to the chest. What really pisses me off is that it wasn’t the first time she was shot with dragons bane. The revelation makes my confined claws flex with murderous rage. How dare they use that cursed substance on my mate—not once, but twice?
She recounts the training session in great detail, her voice shaking slightly as she relives the trauma. She remembers walking toward my descendant, her footsteps echoing in the training chamber. Then, the room seemed to shift around her like reality itself was bending. The next thing she knew, she was falling through space, her body betraying her as poison raced through her veins. The rest of the experience is a blur to her, and what little I can see through our bond feels disjointed—fractured images of pain and confusion that make my stomach clench with sympathetic agony.
When she’s strong enough, her gryphon mate carries her around the courtyard. I can feel the gentle rhythm of his steps through her relaxed posture, the careful way he cradles her healing body.She picks up a baby along the way, and the maternal drive within my mate warms my heart like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Her voice softens when she speaks of the little one, taking on a tenderness that makes my chest tight with emotion.
After everything she told me about her past and the minimal influence her mother had in her life, I’m surprised she’s as good with the hatchling as she is. The natural grace with which she handles the small creature speaks to an instinct deeper than experience. Her hands must move with practiced ease, soothing cries and offering comfort that comes from somewhere pure within her soul.
Her other mates lead her inside the compound, and I feel the undercurrent of anxiety kick up like electricity in the air. The tension radiates through our bond, making my scales prickle with sympathetic stress. She passes the hatchling off to its mother as they head to her poison herb garden, the familiar comfort of the deadly botanicals growing stronger with each step.
Mina relaxes the moment she sees the garden is intact. Her breathing slows, and the knots of tension in her shoulders unwind. From what the basilisk says, it’s even expanded beyond its original boundaries. The expansion makes her happy, and I can’t help but smile at how such a simple gesture can bring her joy. Her mates understand what matters to her—this sanctuary of deadly beauty that reflects her own nature.
Klauth goes over the coronation details in great depth, his voice carrying the weight of royal tradition. The titles to be distributed within the nest roll off his tongue like poetry: “King consorts, future royal heirs, princes, and princesses...” Mina’s foresight already shines through in every decision. I will be titled as king consort just like her other mates, but the line of succession willgo Klauth, me, Abraxis, and then Balor. That is unless one of us has a hatchling—then that hatchling moves ahead of the male that comes after us in the hierarchy.
The political maneuvering impresses me. She’s thinking generations ahead, protecting not just current relationships but future offspring. Her strategic mind never ceases to amaze me.
Mina hides me in the poison garden again after she tells me exactly how the day will unfold. Her voice carries excitement mixed with regret as she describes the ceremony. “As soon as everything is over, I’m going to come get you,” she promises, pressing a gentle kiss to my shell. The warmth of her lips sends comfort spiraling through me.
I hate not being able to be at her side for this momentous occasion. The frustration burns through me like acid. I should be escorting her down the aisle, my hand at her elbow as tradition demands. I should be standing beside her as she claims her crown, witnessing the moment she becomes the queen she is meant to be. Instead, I’ll be hidden away like a dirty secret, listening to the ceremony through the bond we share.
But even as resentment churns in my chest, hope burns brighter than ever. This coronation marks the beginning of our reign together. Soon, she’ll be officially recognized as the power she’s always been. And someday—hopefully soon—I’ll be free to stand beside her as her equal, her partner, her king consort in truth and title.
The anticipation tastes sweet as honey on my tongue. My queen deserves to have her king at her side, and I’ll move heaven and earth to make that happen.
It’s only beena few days since the coronation, and now to my horror, my mate takes part in a tradition called the purge. The very name makes my scales crawl with dread. From what Mina tells me, it’s the only time diplomatic immunity will not save her primary targets. Her voice carries dark satisfaction when she explains the loophole that will allow her justice.
She explains to me in detail how she plans to hunt the firedrakes to extinction. Every word that falls from her lips is spoken with a confidence that rings like struck steel. Her plan seems foolproof—poisons that will eat through scales, darts tipped with deadly toxins, daggers sharp enough to slide between ribs, and her favorite twin swords that sing with the promise of death. If I didn’t already know her bloodline, I would swear she was a black dragoness or even a red. Both species are bloodthirsty and vicious, holding onto grudges like no one’s business.
She’s named the five targets and the grievances she has against them as if she needs to justify bloodshed to me. Her voice carries the weight of old wounds and fresh determination. If my eternal wanted to wipe out an entire countryside, I would gladly melt the evidence for her. When she was done, I would take her home and bathe every single inch of her so that the blood of the unworthy didn’t sully her perfect flesh any longer. The fantasy fills me with protective devotion.
Mina tucks me into the poison garden with gentle hands that linger longer than necessary. I feel her drift away from me, herfootsteps fading into the distance. This time I do not fall into a deep sleep. Something about tonight keeps me alert, aware. I remain conscious of her every emotion through our bond—the happiness from whatever mate saw her off, their warmth still clinging to her like invisible armor.
