Page 20 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
Mina’s dragoness rumbles something, the sound vibrating through my chest cavity like rolling thunder during a violent storm. Her breath carries the metallic tang of deer blood mixed with her natural spicy scent. “Mina says no one outside of our nest is to know about the eggs.” Klauth translates, his eyes serious as they meet mine. He looks at me, then back to Mina when she rumbles again, her tail twitching with agitation, the spikes scraping against the stone floor. “Go make sure the others know. Mina thinks that in Abraxis’s excitement, he may have told others.”
No sooner are the words out of his mouth. I phase to the academy into Thauglor’s office; the world compressing around me before expanding again with that distinctive electric crackle. The scent of old books and ink replaces the earthy, primal smells of the nesting chamber. Thauglor almost falls out of his chair from the shock of my arrival, his usually composed face contorting with surprise, the pen in his hand clattering to the desk. “Sorry, Klauth sent me. Mina doesn’t want anyone to know about what’s happening at home.” I don’t say what because who knows if the walls have ears? The paranoia justified at this point.
“That was understood,” Thauglor says, and you can tell he’s irritated with Abraxis from the way his jaw tightens, a muscle jumping in his cheek. The temperature in the room seems to drop a few degrees with his displeasure. “I had to remind my descendant twice already today.”
“I’ll find him and remind him again.” I nod before phasing into Shadowcarve to the training ring. The sudden change in atmosphere—from the cool, quiet office to the open-air arena filled with the sounds of combat—momentarily disorienting. The scent of sweat and leather fills my nostrils as I materialize at the edge of the ring.Abraxis is supervising the first and second years sparring, his voice carrying across the training ground as he calls out corrections.
“Hey Zig!” a third-year yells, his voice cracking with adolescence. The sun beats down on my back, warming my skin as I turn toward the voice. “Where’s Mina? Abraxis won’t tell us.” Several other students chime in afterward, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of curiosity.
“She’s doing Queen shit. Boring political bullshit.” The lie rolls easily off my tongue, tasting bitter but necessary. “Trust me, she would rather be here kicking your asses instead of writing letters.” They buy it easily, disappointment evident in their slumped shoulders and exaggerated sighs.
“I should have thought of saying that,” Abraxis whispers close to me, his breath warm against my ear, carrying the scent of cinnamon from his morning tea. “Mom is already asking about Mina, and I can’t lie to her.” His eyes widen as he looks at me before looking back to his students, the conflict clear in the tense line of his shoulders.
“Let Thauglor do it then. He’ll pull the ‘I’m the ancestor’ card, and that should work.” I pull him further away from the group, my fingers gripping the rough fabric of his training jacket. The sounds of practice fights—the thud of body against mat, the sharp intake of breath when a blow lands—provide cover for our hushed conversation. “I think she wants to wait for them to be born so they can protect themselves or escape.” I stare down at the ground for a moment, watching a tiny insect navigate through the rocks, before looking up again, meeting Abraxis’s gaze.
“I’m so excited. It’s hard to keep to myself,” Abraxis says, and I completely understand what he means. The joy in his eyes is palpable, his usual stoic demeanor cracking with barely contained elation.
“I want to shout it from the rooftops.” Sighing, I smile, feeling the stretch of muscles in my face that haven’t been used much latelywith all the tension. “I don’t care if they end up being both yours. As long as they’re healthy.” I feel it’s the truth as the words leave my lips, surprising me with the sincerity of the sentiment. I’m a mammal, not born from a hard-shelled egg like dragons are. But the thought of being a father figure to Mina’s offspring fills me with unexpected warmth.
“Any idea when?” Abraxis looks around before shouting out an order to one of the students. His voice carrying across the training grounds with authority, before looking at me again, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
“Klauth says within the next twenty-four hours.” I pull out my phone and look at it, the screen bright against the outdoor light, the time display reminding me how quickly things are moving. “Sometime Friday.”
“All of us can’t take off. It would look suspicious.” He flexes his wings, the appendages rippling, the subtle movement betraying his agitation.
“True. I don’t have classes on Friday and neither does Balor. He can take your classes for you so we can be present.” I shrug my shoulders as I send a message in the family chat asking if Balor can cover for Abraxis tomorrow. The phone vibrates in my hand almost immediately as Balor responds, saying yes and that Abraxis owes him. Abraxis fires back the word “done,” the single word loaded with gratitude. “I still have to ride in the processional for the winter formal, but that’s about it. Mina and Klauth won’t be expected to be there, so it’s easier to hide what’s happening.” Abraxis mentions as he looks at the calendar on his phone. He texts in the family chat about what’s happening and everyone agrees. He’s keeping up appearances and leave as soon as possible.
The anticipation buzzes between us like electricity, neither of us able to fully contain the excitement of what’s coming—the birth of the first clutch, the beginning of our family’s next generation.
Everyone sleptin the chamber with Mina last night, just in case she needed us. The limestone walls amplified every sound—each breath, each shift of massive dragon bodies against stone. Every time Mina shifted, the ancients woke up and leapt into action, expecting it to be time. By the time morning came, most of us feel half dead, our eyes gritty with exhaustion, muscles aching from the tension of anticipation.
I wake up this morning laying between Mina’s front legs in my displacer beast form, her body radiating heat like a living furnace. The scent of her scales—ozone and spicy—filling my nostrils with each breath. Honestly, I don’t remember how I got here or when I shifted. As I look around, there’s a half dozen dead deer scattered across the chamber floor, their glazed eyes reflecting the torchlight. Apparently chomped and killed by Mina but not eaten.
The metallic tang of blood hangs in the air, mingling with the earthier scent of the chamber. I shift back, bones realigning with soft pops, and climb over her foreleg. My hand sliding against the rough, warm scales, to look at the devastation.
“She’s refusing to eat. Is she okay?” I look at Klauth, my voice rough with sleep, worry gnawing at my insides. The abandoned carcasses, with their torn flesh and exposed bone, create a macabre scene.
“It’s because she’s in the early stages of labor. If she eats, it may make her want to puke.” His voice holds none of my concern; instead, he’s smiling, the expression softening his usually stern features. He looks at the dead deer, then over at me, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “She will definitely eat after the eggs are laid.” Klauth walks down towards Mina’s tail, his footsteps echoing in the chamber, and smiles wider. There is the proof of what’shappening. The silver scales have darkened to a deep gunmetal gray, and she looks swollen, the skin between her scales stretched taut.
“How long do you think we have to wait?” I stare at the way her body has changed, the visible tension in her muscles, then back over at Klauth and now Abraxis, who’s running around like someone set his ass on fire. His bare feet slapping against the stone as he gathers supplies, his breath coming in quick, shallow pants.
“Hours,” Klauth answers, but the word has barely left his lips when Mina shifts position with a low, rumbling groan that vibrates through the floor beneath my feet. We watch her stomach tense, the scales rippling like a wave across her belly. “Correction. Any time now.”
Thauglor’s head whips up at those words, his eyes widening as he stares at Mina. He walks over, his movements deliberate and calm despite the tension in the air, and shifts behind her. The sound of his transformation fills the chamber—cracking bones, stretching skin, the rustle of wings unfurling. He rests his wing on her side over her wing, the leathery membranes overlapping with a soft whisper. He then places his head over her shoulder, holding her dragoness. He rumbles softly to her, the sound like distant thunder, soothing and primal. Mina lifts her head, her movements slow and heavy, and lays it over her forelegs, her breath coming in short, harsh bursts that send warm gusts of air through the chamber.
I snap several pictures of how he’s curled around her with his head on her ribs, the click of my phone camera seeming obscenely loud in the reverent hush that has fallen. We watch as Mina curls her lips, baring her teeth occasionally, a hiss of pain escaping between her dagger-like fangs. The scent of her sweat—sharper and more pungent than usual—fills the air.
“Can we do anything? She looks like she’s in pain.” My voice cracks with concern, my eyes moving from Mina to Klauth. My questionstops Abraxis in his tracks, his face paling beneath his tan as he looks at Mina’s obvious discomfort.
“Unfortunately, it being her first birthing, no. The next clutch will pass easier.” Klauth moves to check on her progress, bending down to examine the area beneath her tail. Suddenly, there’s a gush of fluid—warm, viscous, and smelling strongly of minerals and something uniquely dragonic. He rushes backwards out of the way, his feet splashing in the puddle. “Birth is imminent at this point.” He throws down towels to wipe up the fluid, the fabric quickly becoming saturated, and Mina rumbles something to him, the sound vibrating through my chest. “Exactly why I’m doing it,” he responds to her.
“What did she say?” I glance from Klauth as he’s cleaning up, his movements efficient and practiced, then over to Mina, whose eyes are half-closed in concentration, her claws flexing against the stone.
“She wants me to use the soaked towels to scent the eggs she made of clay.” Klauth says as he takes the first towel and lays it over the first fake egg, the clay surface immediately darkening with moisture, then takes the second towel to soak, the fluid making a sickening squelching sound as he presses the fabric into it.
The sound of Mina’s talons scraping on the stone sends a shiver down my spine—like nails on a chalkboard, but deeper, more visceral. I turn to look at her and I see the start of the first egg, a glossy black curve appearing beneath her tail. My heart leaps into my throat.
“Abraxis, the first egg is coming out...” I scream, my voice echoing off the stone walls. He and Klauth stop what they’re doing and come running over, their footsteps thundering across the chamber floor.
