Page 16 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
“A dragoness gains in power with the mates she takes,” the smaller of the elders says as he backs up slowly, his shoes making soft scuffing sounds against the polished floor. His eyes dart nervously between my mates, widening slightly as he takes in their imposing forms.
“I will challenge your dragoness to test her,” the youngest male elder says with a cocky smirk, his teeth flashing white against the tan of his skin. The challenge in his eyes is clear, burning with an arrogance that makes my blood boil.
“Accepted.” I glance down and then raise my taloned hands, staring at their silver lengths, feeling the weight of them, the deadly sharpness. The light catches on them, reflecting in gleaming arcs. “What species of dragon had silver talons?” I flex my hand several times, feeling the muscles and tendons work beneath my skin, before turning and walking out of the room. The sound of my footsteps is sharp and purposeful against the marble floor.
Thauglor walks out with me and takes my hand in his, his palm dwarfing mine, warm and slightly rough. “They don’t know who they are messing with,” he chuckles as he pulls me against his side. The rumble of his laughter travels through his body into mine, a pleasant vibration.
“This all falls back to the way females have been kept and raised. As much as my father was horrible to me and abused me, I’m not likethe others. I think for myself and want more than to just have babies.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, memories of my father’s cruelty rising like bile in my throat.
Thauglor listens and nods slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. “This is true. Then again, I think you inherited some of my bloodthirsty nature from the scale I gifted you.” He kisses my temple, his lips soft against my skin, as we wait outside for the elders and the others to catch up. The air outside is cooler, carrying the scent of pines and distant water.
“You can shift first so that my much larger drake doesn’t frighten you,” the young male says with a smile as he joins us, his voice grating on my nerves like sandpaper on raw skin.
“I sleep under a red great wyrm’s wing. Do you think your puny dragon will scare me? Let’s be serious here.” I move and lean against Klauth’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart against my back, then motion to Thauglor. “I slept in the taloned hand of a black great wyrm on purpose.” Smirking, I motion for him to proceed, the gesture dismissive.
He shifts, and his dragon is copper in color. I tilt my head, studying him, taking in the relatively small form, the dull sheen of his scales in the afternoon sun. “For an elder, your drake is small,” I say, my voice carrying across the courtyard. I study him and roll my eyes, unimpressed. Looking back, my mates move to back up to the far edge of the courtyard, giving me space.
My dragoness explodes into existence, her emerald, and silver scales catching the afternoon sun like polished gems, refracting light in dazzling patterns across the stone. The sensation of shifting is like stretching after being confined too long—painful yet satisfying, muscles and bones rearranging with audible cracks and pops. My scales are jagged, like the iron dragon of my mother’s line, the green close to the body from my father. Unlike how I looked almost three years ago, my dragoness is heavily armored now, ready for war or todefend her nest. The weight of my form settles into the earth, my talons digging into the stone beneath my feet. I raise my frill, feeling energy crackle between the spines as I stare down at the smaller copper male. The sound is like distant thunder, the smell of ozone heavy in the air.
“Mina, you’ve grown again,” Klauth says, his voice filled with pride as he looks up at me. Even in his human form, his presence is commanding, his voice carrying easily to my heightened senses. I tilt my horned head to look down at him and nod, the movement sending ripples of sensation along my neck.
‘I know I grew,’I say to Thauglor and Klauth together, feeling the connection between us pulse with my thoughts.
“Show them your breath weapon, my treasure,” Klauth says as he pats my front leg, his touch warm even through my thick scales.
I turn my head, looking at one of the jagged rocks that annoys me, sitting at the edge of the courtyard. The stone has been an eyesore for months, dark and misshapen against the otherwise stunning vista. I build for one of the bigger strikes I can muster, feeling the energy gather in my chest, a ball of heat and power that makes my throat glow. The hairs on the elders rise from static electricity, the air around us becoming charged and heavy, difficult to breathe.
When I finally unleash my breath weapon, the rock blasts apart into a thousand pieces, the sound deafening, like a clap of thunder directly overhead. The air fills with dust and stone fragments, the smell of burnt rock and ozone overwhelming my senses. I lower a wing to protect my mates from the rock shards, feeling several smaller pieces ping harmlessly off my armored scales. Several rocks strike the copper dragon, making him bleed. The scent of his blood—copper and salt—reaches me even through the dust cloud.
He shifts back and glares at me, his face contorted with rage and pain, blood trickling from several cuts on his face and arms. “Youdidn’t protect your elder!” he screams at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking with indignation.
I reach out with my taloned hand and grab him, lifting him off the ground. His body is warm in my grip, his heartbeat frantic against my palm as I stare into his eyes and growl. The vibration of the sound travels through my entire body, a physical manifestation of my anger.
“I suggest you apologize. Mina’s temperament has taken after the black dragons in the nest. If you remember correctly, Thauglor has no problem killing because someone looked at him sideways,” Klauth says calmly, then steps in front of me, getting my attention. His eyes are steady, a silent communication passing between us. “My Treasure, will you please drop the imbecile and shift back? I believe we have already proven you are capable of the right of succession.”
I lower the elder to the ground, feeling his weight settle on trembling legs, and shift back. The sensation is like being compressed, my vast power condensing back into human form, skin replacing scales with a whisper of movement. “Not all females are defenseless. Go see the priestesses at the temple of Bahamut; they will tell you the extent of my bloodline.” I bare my neck to Klauth, feeling vulnerable yet safe as I expose my throat, and run and dive off the cliff to take flight.
The wind catches me immediately, cold and clean against my skin, washing away the scent of the elders, the dust, the tension. The sensation of falling gives way to soaring as my wings extend, catching the updrafts. I need to get away from these assholes before I torch one on purpose. The temptation to circle back and show them exactly what I’m capable of burns in my chest. But instead, I let the wind carry me higher, into the endless blue where even their prejudice can’t reach me.
CHAPTER 11
Leander
It’s been almosta week since the visit from the elders. The tension in the air still hasn’t fully dissipated, lingering like a storm cloud ready to burst. They did, in fact, go to the temple of Bahamut and were shocked to learn of Mina’s bloodline. The news traveled through dragon society like wildfire, leaving a trail of whispers and speculation in its wake.
Unfortunately for us, they let all the nests know who is in Mina’s nest. Between her bloodline, Klauth’s, and Thauglor’s, requests for betrothals have been pouring in day and night. The constant deliveries grating on my nerves like sandpaper on raw skin.
I have a bag full of envelopes stuffed with requests. The leather strap is digging into my shoulder. The paper crinkles with each step I take down the hallway, the sound seeming to echo off the stone walls. Dozens of families want to wed their son to our first-born daughter—a daughter who doesn’t even exist yet. I peek my head into Klauth’s office, the scent of aged leather and parchment mixed with coffee hitting my nostrils as I push the heavy oak door open. I see it’s him, Abraxis, and Thauglor at the table.
“Guys, we have a problem,” I announce, my voice tight with concern. I enter slowly and close the door behind me.
Abraxis’s eyes lock on the mail sack hanging off my shoulder, and he goes pale, the color draining from his face. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” he says, his voice strained and thin.
“I would love to, but I’d be lying if I did.” I swing the satchel forward and dump the letters on the table. They cascade across the polished wood surface spreading out in a fan of cream-colored envelopes sealed with various wax insignias. The smell of different papers, inks, and wax fills the air, some faintly perfumed in an attempt to stand out.
“This current timeline is backwards and more archaic than when we were younger,” Thauglor observes, his deep voice resonating. He looks between Klauth and Abraxis before looking back at me, his ancient eyes filled with a weariness.
“They don’t value females. As it stands right now, it’s seven to eight males to one female.” I shake my head, feeling the weight of this reality settle in my gut like a stone. My gaze drops to the ground for a moment, the intricate pattern of the carpet blurring as I focus on my thoughts. “The way our family works, it’s fine, but our situation isn’t normal.” The scale on my chest pulses gently, a reminder of the bond we all share.
