Page 39 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
“It wouldn’t hurt.” Klauth says as he looks at Abraxis, his gaze assessing and cold. “You’re healed, but not at full strength. Whatever you do, don’t do anything that may hint at the fact you have a damaged wing.” His eyes move to Mina when she’s not looking, the silent warning hanging in the air between them. The message is clear: a stronger male may challenge him for his place at Mina’s side. The thought sends a wave of protective anger through me, hot and sharp.
“What do you need me to do?” I take a sip of my drink, the cool liquid a stark contrast to the warmth of the conversation. The subtle bite of alcohol burns pleasantly down my throat. My eye move from ancient to ancient, trying to read their intentions beneath their controlled exteriors.
“Research the dens. Dig up whatever information you and Ziggy can find on them. Anything we can leverage.” Klauth says as he looks back at Mina, who’s now asleep with her babies, her chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of exhaustion. Her face, relaxed in sleep,looks younger, more vulnerable—a stark reminder of what we’re all fighting to protect. The battle she fought took more out of her than she will ever admit, clear in the way her body had simply shut down, seeking healing in unconsciousness.
“You’ve got it.” Between Ziggy and me, we have extensive connections across the continent. My mind already begins sorting through contacts and resources we can tap without alerting anyone to our intentions. It’s time to research and gain enough leverage to get the dens to cooperate. The weight of responsibility settles on my shoulders, heavy but not unwelcome. For Mina and her children, I’d shoulder far more.
CHAPTER 26
Mina
The summit has been called,and I am heading there with my dragon mates. The crisp mountain air rushes past my scales, sharp and cold against my heated body as we soar through azure skies. The others are being left behind to watch over the nest. Lily clings next to my frill in flight. Her little body warm against my neck, her heartbeat a rapid flutter I can feel through my armored skin. Klauth and Thauglor lead, their massive forms cutting through clouds that leave beads of moisture on my scales, with me behind them and Abraxis trailing. He rode on my back for most of the flight, his weight a familiar comfort near our daughter, until we got within roaring range.
Thauglor, being the oldest in our nest, roars first, the sound vibrating through my bones like rolling thunder. Then Klauth, his bellow deeper, more resonant, making the air itself tremble. Abraxis follows with a sharp, commanding cry that echoes across the valley below. Finally, I add my voice, the roar burning in my throat, tasting of lightning and power. I hear Lily’s little roar, a high-pitched trill that makes my heart swell, and if I could smile, I would—it was so adorable, like wind chimes against her father’s war drum.
In the immense field ahead, I see other dragons landing, their scales glinting in the sunlight like a mosaic of jewels—emerald, sapphire, ruby, and gold. Each one circles once before landing, wings creating downdrafts that bend the tall grasses below. The answering roar from the field, a chorus of different timbres and pitches, tells us we can land next. Thauglor circles first before landing, taking up more room than all of the dragons before him, his shadow darkening the ground like an eclipse. When the others see the size of Klauth, they give him a wide berth, their scent spiking with notes of fear and awe. He has to circle twice before landing and shifting, his wings creating gusts that toss my scent toward the gathered dragons below.
Abraxis goes next, and I watch as he lands, my heart in my throat. That damned damaged wing falters slightly, a barely perceptible hitch in his usually graceful descent. But it catches the attention of some of the younger males. I can smell their interest, sharp and predatory, a tang that makes my nostrils flare with protective anger.
I circle until Klauth motions for me to land, the sun warm on my back, a stark contrast to the chill of altitude. When my feet hit the ground, the impact sends vibrations up my legs, and I stay standing tall, my posture deliberately powerful. I have my daughter on my back, clinging to my neck, her claws tiny pinpricks against my scales. Klauth motions, and I raise my frill, feeling the familiar tingle as lightning races up it, casting blue-white reflections on the faces of those watching, so they know I am not a weak female. The air around me crackles with energy, tasting metallic on my tongue.
“She looks like the depictions of Tiamat,” one male says, his voice hushed with awe, the scent of his surprise sweet and heady.
Another mentions my size, that I am close to wyrm status for a young female, his words carrying notes of both admiration and unease. Most want to know of my bloodline, their questions a buzz of curiosity that prickles against my scales.
“Mina, shift back, love,” Thauglor says, his voice a deep rumble that I feel more than hear. He flares his wings, threatening the other males, the leathery membranes creating a sound like distant thunder.
As I shift back, the transformation sending waves of heat through my body. My daughter moves along with my changing form until she rests over my shoulders. Her weight is substantial now, pressing down on my collar bones. She’s almost doubled in size in the last week, her growth rate almost alarming.
Klauth steps forward, his footsteps heavy and assured on the packed earth, and places my diadem upon my head. The metal is cool against my heated skin, before kissing my cheek, his lips warm and possessive, and taking my hand. His scent envelops me—brimstone, smoke, and something uniquely him that always makes my pulse quicken.
I watch as the other dragons bow in deference to Klauth and Thauglor, the rustle of their movements like leaves in a breeze. I guess to me too, since I am their mate. My daughter’s head is on a swivel, watching everything around us, her eyes bright with curiosity. Her little rumbles vibrate against my neck, making me alert to what’s going on behind me as we move. It’s the whole reason I kept her on my shoulders. When she rumbles softly, I am the only one able to hear her, the sound a private communication between mother and child.
The elders of the flights are all gathered in the next clearing in a semicircle, their scales dulled with age but still impressive, catching the sunlight in muted flashes. The scent of so many dragons in one place is overwhelming—a mixture of distinct elements that makes my head swim momentarily.
‘I had the temple of Bahamut send the verification of our bond and bloodlines to the flights ahead of the meeting,’Klauth says through our bond, his voice in my mind warm and reassuring.
‘Several flights offered males to be offered as a mate to you,’Thauglor says with a laugh through the bond, his amusement a bright spark against my consciousness.
‘Eight of you is quite enough,’I fire back at them as I hear their laughter in my mind, the sound rich and intimate despite the crowd surrounding us.
“My lord,” the oldest of the elders says as he steps forward and bows, his joints creaking audibly with the motion. “I am Ansel. I hail from the Jorgen Nest.” He motions to the other elders present, his hand trembling slightly. “We received the documents from the temple, and seeing your dragon, there is no disputing the truth of it.” The elders murmur in agreement, a soft susurration like wind through dry grass.
“Good, then this should go smoothly. We have evidence to present to the flights gathered. We suspect not only did the mages imprison Thauglor and I and five other elders in our time, but they have been systematically killing dragons before they hit wyrm status. Mostly males, since in this day and age, you place mage cages on your females to keep them from shifting.” Klauth looks at each of the elders, his gaze piercing and unyielding. Some shy away, their scales rustling as they shift uncomfortably; others don’t break eye contact, their postures stiffening with pride or defiance.
“It has been strange that most of our oldest elders never undergo the change that comes with wyrm status,” what looks like a blue dragon says as he looks back at his clansmen, his scales the color of deep ocean waters. His voice carries a hint of suspicion, sharp and cutting.
“We lost an elder a month ago. He was days away from undergoing the change,” a male with white-looking scales on his neck says, grief clear in the way his voice catches.
“They don’t want dragon kind reaching its full potential,” Klauth says, loud enough for everyone to hear, his voice reverberating acrossthe clearing. “Thauglor and I have achieved great wyrm status because we were imprisoned by the mages over a thousand years ago.” Klauth says as he reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me forward with him, his touch warm and possessive. “Our mate freed us. Long before our capture, we were already at wyrm status. Something changed, getting the mages to hunt us.” He turns slowly, watching the gathered flight elders, his eyes sharp and assessing.
“Your rampage set it all in motion,” Ansel says as he steps forward, the scent of his fear sour and acrid as he confronts Klauth.
“My rampage was because the nest with my progeny was murdered by wyvern. What would you do if your progeny were murdered before they could draw their first breath?” Thauglor reaches out and touches Lily, his massive hand gentle against her small form. The contrast makes my heart clench with a mixture of love and fear.
I watch the elders stare at my daughter, their gazes hungry and calculating, and I step out and away from Klauth, placing myself between them and her instinctively. “The way you’re watching my daughter speaks volumes. None of you have seen a hatchling this size before.” Slowly I turn, and Thauglor opens his arms. Lily leaps off my shoulders, the sudden absence of her weight making me feel strangely vulnerable, and flies to him to perch on his shoulders. “Do you know why you don’t see hatchlings her size?” I motion to my daughter. Everyone shakes their heads no, the motion creating a wave of movement through the assembled dragons.
“The anointing oil locks the hatchling within its human form,” Thauglor says as he reaches up to touch my daughter, his fingers gentle against her scales. “The oil keeps our progeny defenseless and our females defenseless longer than the males.” He growls out, staring each of the other elders down, the rumble of his voice making the ground beneath my feet vibrate.
