Page 31 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
Mina shifts without question and lays down, her form massive and gleaming in the afternoon light. We climb on, her scales warm beneath my hands, and Mina takes off as fast as possible, the ground falling away beneath us in a blur. The wind whistles past my ears as we soar, the landscape spread out like a patchwork quilt far below.
It still amazes me, the things that iron dragons must have been able to do when they lived in greater numbers. With Mina only being half iron dragon, I wonder what their full potential was. The thought follows me like a shadow as we race back to the nest, the urgency of our discovery pulsing in time with the beat of Mina’s powerful wings.
CHAPTER 20
Mina
The meetingthe other night droned on for hours, the voices of my mates blending together until they became a dull hum in my ears. Even with Vox arriving and confirming what the ancients feared, I couldn’t shake the chill that settled deep in my bones. More than likely, the mages aren’t allowing dragons to reach their full potential. That thought alone makes the scales on the back of my neck stand on edge, a prickling sensation that crawls across my skin like tiny needles. As much as I thought my father insane, maybe he was onto something after all.
“What was that look for, Mina?” Vaughn asks as he sits across from me, the scratching of his pencil against paper punctuating his words. He’s still working on his project for his art of war class, his brow furrowed in concentration.
I pull on the invisible tethers connecting me to my other mates, feeling them respond like plucked strings vibrating through my core. My teeth sink into the soft flesh of my bottom lip, tasting the metallic hint of blood. “I just had a thought. The others are coming; I called for them.” I look back at Ziggy’s beast laying between oureggs, his tentacles clinging to them. The glossy shells reflect the dim light, their surfaces warm and thrumming with life when I reach out to touch one briefly.
As my other mates arrive, their unique scents mingling in the air—pine and leather from Abraxis, smoke and cloves from Thauglor, brimstone and amber from Klauth—I slowly stand and pace. The stone floor is cool beneath my bare feet, grounding me as my thoughts race. “I had a thought.” I pause as the last of my mates enters, the door closing with a soft thud that reverberates through the chamber. “I’m going to blurt it all out, then we can talk after, okay?” My eyes drift to the others, and they nod, agreeing. The tension in the room thickens, making the air feel heavy in my lungs.
“Maybe, in my father’s insanity, he knew what we were going to be facing.” Abraxis prepares to interject, his chest expanding with an inhale, and I raise my hand to stop him. “Dad was always going over old records and histories. Maybe he spotted the patterns.” I glance down at the ground for a moment, my gaze tracing the worn paths on the stone floor. “He needed a weapon deadlier than anything on this continent to go against the council and or the mages.”
I stare at my hands as I shift them, my bones cracking and realigning with a series of soft pops. My scales emerge—iron in strength, green in color with an iron hue that catches the light like burnished metal. “My immunity is unlike any other dragon living today. What if the mages can’t hurt me too?” I stare at Klauth and Thauglor, waiting to see their reactions. The silence stretches between us, taut as a bowstring.
“I’ve been reading over your father’s notes in what was his study,” Callan says as he pulls out a worn leather journal, the pages yellowed with age, the binding cracked and flaking beneath his careful fingers. The musty scent of old paper and ink wafts through the air as he opens it. “You’re not far off from what he was intending. He knew Thauglor was an ancestor in Abraxis’s line. Granted,about twenty generations back, but still there. He was betting your child with him could oppose the council.” He opens the journal and lays it on the table, the leather making a soft thump against the wood as he turns to the page with his plans on it.
There it is in black and white, the faded ink still legible after all these years. He figured he could mold our child to be the ultimate weapon if I failed. The realization settles in my stomach like a stone, cold and heavy.
“Towards the front of the journal, he mentioned the odd deaths of dragons nearing a hundred years old. Very few elders, making it past one fifty. He had his suspicions of the council from early on.” Klauth takes the journal after Callan stops speaking, his long fingers delicately tracing the spidery handwriting as if he could absorb its secrets through his skin.
“It’s a good thing I’ve come back then. I will meet with the head drakes of all the nests on my continent and warn them of this theory. Being a great wyrm has its advantages; they will listen.” He snaps the journal shut, the sound sharp in the quiet room, and looks at me. His eyes, amber with flecks of crimson, bore into mine. “What made you think your father may have been onto something?”
Biting my bottom lip again, I taste blood once more, sweet and metallic. I look at Thauglor, his massive frame seeming to take up more space than should be possible. “I need help showing the others the memory that surfaced.” He nods and closes the distance between us, his footsteps surprisingly light for someone of his size, barely a whisper against the stone.
His calloused hands caress my cheeks, rough against my soft skin, as he stares into my eyes. His gaze is intense, like looking into the heart of a storm. “Let me in, my most precious treasure,” he whispers just for me, his breath warm against my face, smelling faintly of cinnamon and smoke. I close my eyes, relaxing in his grip, feeling thestrength in his hands. My hands go to his hips to steady myself, feeling the heat of him through his clothing as I let the memory play.
I’m ten years old at the time. My father is at his desk, speaking to an elder green dragon about the death of another. Mages were spotted in the territory not long after his death. My father shared his theory that the mages killed the elder. The male that was there disagreed, saying there’s no reason to kill him. My father shook his head and waved me in. He pulled me up to sit on his lap, his scent—pine and old books and something uniquely him—enveloping me. “Never trust anyone without a beast in their chest. They hold an unnatural power that can hurt us or imprison us when we’re too strong.” He had the tome on the cursed eggs on his desk, the curses binding each of the eggs written out in meticulous detail. “There are four eggs that may ignite for you one day.” He kisses my temple, his lips dry against my skin, then sends me on my way. Faintly, I hear him say, “The fate of the dragons may rest in your talons.”
The memory ends, and I open my eyes to stare into Thauglor’s, my breath coming in quick gasps as if I’ve been running. He nods slowly before looking at Klauth, the silent communication between them almost tangible in the air.
“He knew what he was doing when he bred Mina’s mother. He was creating a female capable of breaking our curses. He knew dragon kind needed us to set things right.” Thauglor’s voice is deeper now, resonating in his chest so I can feel it through my hands still resting on his hips.
“He said there were four eggs that were possible to ignite for her. Who are the other two?” Abraxis asks, his voice tight with tension. I glance at him, seeing the muscle in his jaw working as he clenches his teeth.
“The green and blue,” Callan says as he brings the book my father had of the cursed eggs, the leather binding worn smooth in places from countless hands. “This is the original copy of the tome of the cursed eggs, not the redacted one we have at the academy.”
I pull it closer to me, the weight of it substantial in my hands, and look at the pages. The paper is thin and delicate beneath my fingertips, almost translucent in places. Each egg had a specific curse placed on it. Klauth’s and Thauglor’s are the most similar. The others had conditions I didn’t meet. A sinking feeling develops in my stomach, cold and spreading like ice through my veins.Was I created for them? Was Abraxis a safety net if neither of them reacted to me?My thoughts spiral, the room tilting slightly as nausea washes over me.
I feel rough hands grab me and spin me around, the sudden movement making my head swim. “Your father was insane. And there was no way he could have ever known you would be my mate.” Abraxis says as he stares into my eyes, his pupils dilated with intensity. I can count every eyelash, see the flecks of gold in his irises, feel the heat of his breath against my face.
“But—” Before I can finish the sentence, Abraxis kisses me, stealing the breath from my lungs. His lips are firm and demanding against mine, tasting of the wine we shared earlier, rich and complex. The kiss grounds me, pulling me back from the edge of my spiraling thoughts.
When we break apart, gasping for air, Klauth extends his hand to me, giving me the choice to go to him or not. His long fingers are elegant, a stark contrast to the power I know they contain. I glance back at Abraxis, and he nods, the movement barely perceptible. I accept Klauth’s hand, his skin hotter than Abraxis’s, and he pulls me flush to his chest. The fabric of his suit is smooth against my cheek, the scent of him—brimstone and amber—filling my nostrils.
“Even if it was his intention to have you get us to hatch, he never would have suspected you would be our mate. It’s probably why the other eggs didn’t respond to you. They weren’t your mates.” He kisses me gently, his lips soft and controlled, then passes me to Thauglor, the transfer so smooth it feels choreographed.
Thauglor cocks his head to the side, a gesture so reminiscent of his dragon form it makes my heart clench. A slow smile crosses his lips, transforming his severe features into something almost boyish. “You are more than I ever dreamed of. When I heard your song, my heart thundered in my ears. My drake screamed‘mate’as loud as he could.” He sighs, the sound rumbling through his massive chest, and lowers his head to rest his forehead against mine. The contact sends tingles across my skin, like static electricity but warmer, more intimate.
“When you didn’t take me, too, I willed myself to go back into the dreamless sleep. I didn’t want to awaken unless you came for me.” His thumb runs slowly over my bottom lip, the callused pad catching slightly on the tender flesh as he watches it move. The sensation sends shivers down my spine, making my legs weak. “I am the weapon my mate will wield.” His free hand takes mine and presses it over his heart. I feel the strong, steady beat beneath my palm, a rhythm that seems to call to something primal within me.
It’s in this moment, surrounded by my mates, each uniquely mine as I am uniquely theirs, that I realize I am exactly where I was always meant to be. The realization settles over me like a mantle, heavy with responsibility but also with a rightness that makes my soul sing.
Days of meetingscome and go, drakes from different flights arriving and departing from the lower compound. The stone floors of our meeting hall have been worn smooth, and the scent of various dragons—earthy, fiery, oceanic—lingers in the air long after they’ve gone. The majority of the continent has been warned about our suspicions. Several dens cited that their elders rarely pass a hundred years, and when they do, it’s freak accidents that kill them. I stand atthe edge of our territory, my skin tingling from the cooling evening air as I stare into the sunset. The sky bleeds crimson and gold, casting long shadows across the valley below as I watch the last two drakes that came to meet with us leave, their massive silhouettes growing smaller against the dying light.
