Page 15 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
“I had a feeling this was going to be an issue.” Vox says as he steps into the center of the room, his footsteps firm against the floor. The temperature seems to drop further with his presence. “You’re missing the big picture, Abraxis.” His dad arches a brow, waiting for Abraxis to look up. “You are third in line for the throne of the Aurelian Isles, that is until Klauth and Mina have a hatchling, then you get bumped back a space.” Vox glances over at Thauglor, who motions for him to continue with a flick of his wrist, the gesture almost imperceptible.
“Our bloodline is in the line of succession for the throne, not once but twice,” Vox mentions, his voice rising with passion. “How many bloodlines living can boast that? None.” The pride in his voice is palpable, filling the room with its warmth.
“Historically, our kind have been outcasts and the villains in everyone’s stories,” Thauglor says with a sigh that seems to come from the depths of his ancient soul. “Red dragons can rain literal hellfire down upon the lands. We can melt our enemies in a pool of acid. If that acid happens to be ignited—BOOM. Burning acid fireball that nothing is immune to.” His words paint a vivid picture that makes my skin crawl with imagined heat.
“Are we sure about that?” I ask and touch the scale on my chest, feeling it pulse beneath my fingertips. The thought of Mina’s acid, her lightning, and her potential for destruction makes my heart race with a mixture of fear and pride.
“We are never testing that theory,” Thauglor practically growls, and the air feels suddenly heavy, pressing down on my chest, making itdifficult to breathe. His eyes flash dangerously, pupils narrowing to slits.
“Agreed,” I say quickly, the word almost sticking in my suddenly dry throat. I make sure the conversation doesn’t go any further, grateful when the tension in the room eases slightly.
Ziggy manifests with Mina and Klauth out of nowhere, the air shimmering and condensing around them before they fully materialize. The displacement of air sends a gust that ruffles my hair, and I instinctively smooth it down. Then seconds later, the council members manifest on the arms of other displacer beasts from Ziggy’s pride, their appearances causing a series of small wind gusts that set the candles flickering. “Thank you, everyone!” Mina says, smiling completely unfazed by phasing from one place to the other. Her voice is like music, bright and warm in the suddenly crowded room. Her scent—ozone and something uniquely her—fills my nostrils, instantly calming my nerves.
On the flip side, the council, and Klauth all look sick to their stomachs, their skin pale, and their postures hunched. I move quickly and start pouring cups of ginger tea, the spicy-sweet aroma rising with the steam, to help with the nausea. “Here, this will help,” I offer the teacup to the first elder, the porcelain warm against my fingers.
“You have a gryphon in your nest?” The female takes on a haughty tone, her voice dripping with disdain. I can see the scales raise on the back of Mina’s neck, her anger a tangible thing in the air between us. The temperature in the room seems to rise several degrees as her fury builds.
“What did you just say?” Mina growls, her eyes burning golden as she stares at the elder. The room feels smaller, heavier with the presence of her dragoness. The air crackles with tension, and I can feel the vibration of her growl through the floor beneath my feet.
“You have a gryphon in your nest. It’s not done.” The elder turns her head away, the dismissive gesture like a slap, and Mina moves quickly to get in that elder’s face. The sound of her talons against each other is sharp and threatening as she advances.
“That gryphon is my mate.” Mina clacks her jaws like she did when she threatened Thauglor, the sound like stones striking together. It’s an ancient dragonic threat from what Klauth told me. Basically, she will rend the flesh from their bones and grind them into dust. She doesn’t break eye contact with the elder, the intensity of her gaze almost physically pushing the older dragon back. I can see Klauth and Thauglor moving into position to stop Mina, their muscles tense and ready.
“She took her dragon mate before the gryphon per the accords,” Vox mentions from the sidelines, his voice deliberately calm despite the tension filling the room.
Mina’s head suddenly turns to lock eyes with Klauth, the movement so quick it’s almost a blur. There’s a silence in the room that makes my skin crawl, the quiet humming with unspoken words. She turns from Klauth to Thauglor, then back to the female elder. A laugh escapes Mina’s lips, the sound sharp, and cold like breaking ice, as she moves to position herself between me and the elder. Her body radiates heat, a protective shield of flesh and scale. “You forget whom you speak to, elder.” Mina does that head roll with the tilt of her head like Klauth does, a movement that usually annoys her. “I am the High Queen of the Marzana Empire, and between my mates and I control over two-thirds of this continent and its forces.” Mina smirks as she crosses her arms under her chest, the gesture accentuating her power rather than diminishing it.
A male elder steps forward, his footsteps heavy on the marble floor, the sound echoing in the tense silence. “Are you going to allow your mate to disrespect an elder like that?” He stares at Klauth, his eyes narrowed in challenge.
Klauth laughs, the sound rolling through the room like thunder. “You’re all younglings compared to me. What do I care about what you do and don’t want?” Klauth glances over at Thauglor, who steps forward, his presence expanding to fill the room.
“Our mate, our Queen, will not be disrespected in her home,” Thauglor spreads his wings, the leathery membranes stretching wide, and holds them out as a threat. The air shifts around us, pushed by the powerful appendages. “You forget that Klauth and I come from a time where females were protected and cherished and were more valuable than land or gold.” He steps forward, his movements fluid and menacing, and takes Mina from me to have her rest against his chest. Her back presses against him, and I can see the immediate relaxation in her posture, the trust evident in every line of her body. “You may be her elder, but you are not mine. As far as I am concerned, you are not her elder either.” Thauglor kisses Mina’s cheek, his lips brushing against her skin like a whisper, resting a hand on her shoulder.
“As for what species I have in my nest,” Mina smiles and laughs a little, the sound warming the room. “They are none of your concern. My scale lives on their flesh, marking them as a dragon mate.” Her words make the scale on my chest pulse stronger, a warm glow spreading from it through my body. “Only a true mate can wear a dragon’s scale and have it live on their flesh, thus elevating them to a dragon mate. No less than a dragon, but not a dragon.” Mina looks over at me and smiles, the expression full of pride and affection, before looking back at the elder. “You will afford all of my mates the respect my scale offers them, or we will see just how powerful this little female can be.”
The oldest of the elders opens and closes his mouth several times, looking between Mina and her ancient mates. The sound of his jaw clicking shut is the only noise in the room for several heartbeats. Abraxis walks in with Balor and the rest of Mina’s mates just after the standoff, the door opening with a soft creak as they enter. Thescent of them—a mix of individual notes that somehow blend into something that smells like home—fills the room, completing our nest’s presence. The scale on my chest pulses in time with my heartbeat, a constant reminder of the bond we all share, stronger than blood, stronger than species, stronger than tradition.
CHAPTER 10
Mina
I swearheads are gonna roll if the elders don’t get in line. The way their eyes snap to my other mates makes the scales on my shoulders stand on edge, a prickling sensation that sends shivers down my spine. Their scent—old parchment and smoke with undertones of arrogance—fills my nostrils, making my upper lip curl in distaste.
“A basilisk?” One of the male elders says, his voice dripping with disgust, and I lunge for him, talons out. The sound of my talons extending is like blades being unsheathed. The sensation of my nails hardening into deadly points, both familiar and exhilarating.
Thauglor grabs me around my waist, his hands firm and hot against my skin, and hauls me backward. The scent of him—ancient stone and thunderstorms—envelops me as he pulls me against his chest. “Mate, he can be as closed-minded as he wants. Balor wears your scale. You survived his bite and stone gaze.” The minute Thauglor mentions my immunity to Balor’s basilisk gifts, the elder steps back, shutting up immediately. I can smell the sour tang of fear rising from him, see the rapid pulse at his throat as he swallows hard.
“You are the dominant dragoness in this part of the continent. The elders would be fools to challenge you or your choices,” Klauth says as he stares down the elders, his voice a deep rumble that vibrates through the floor and into my bones. The heat from his body radiates outward, warming the surrounding air until it’s almost stifling.
I nod my head, listening to my two ancient mates. The weight of their presence behind me is reassuring, like a stone wall at my back. “As you can see, I had two of the cursed eggs hatch for me and are mates of mine.” I smirk a little, feeling my lips curve upward, tasting the satisfaction sweet on my tongue. “We invited you here as a courtesy. I am not seeking your permission. I am telling you, I am claiming the right of succession.” Slowly, I cross my arms under my chest and stare at the elders, taking in their stiff postures. The tension in their jaws, the way their scales shift subtly beneath their human forms.
“The right of succession can only be claimed by a male,” the female elder says, her voice brittle like dried leaves crushing underfoot. The scent of her perfume—too sweet, cloying—makes my nose wrinkle.
“No, actually the right of succession states that the most powerful progeny of the drake may challenge or hunt their sire. It further says that they may name another to find or hunt down their target. The last part of the right of succession states that if they are not evenly matched, I can name a champion to fight in my stead.” I wave a hand and Callan hands me the tome with the chapter bookmarked. The leather cover is cool and smooth against my palm, the pages within smelling of dust and mold.
“If you look, it’s chapter forty-eight, section seven through ten. Nowhere in the text does it state a gender in the accords.” I drop the tome down between me and the elders on the desk. The solid thud echoes in the silence that follows, the sound seeming to reverberate through my chest. Dust motes rise from the impact, dancing in the shafts of sunlight streaming through the windows.
“I mean, if you need to see what my dragon looks like or go head to head with her, I will be more than happy to oblige.” I glance back at Klauth, feeling the brush of his warmth against my skin, then turn my head back to the elders slowly. The tendons in my neck creak with tension. “I do feel the need to warn you. There are eight mates in my nest. Two great wyrm dragons, a black dragon, basilisk, displacer beast, gargoyle, nightmare, and a gryphon all have made my dragoness what she is today.” The pride swells in my chest, warm and fierce, as I list my mates.
