Page 33 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
The second one, slightly smaller, has only four legs, and its front feet look like a dragon’s, the tiny claws clicking against the stone as it takes its first tentative steps. Its fur is mostly green with black markings, its tentacles also covered in dragon scale. They both look like a beautiful blend of dragon and feline as they slink around their father, their movements growing more confident with each passing moment.
“They look like they have scales under their fur,” I motion to the green hatchling as it moves, fascinated by the way the fur seems to shift in plates, as if it’s covering something more substantial beneath. The fur moves in a way that suggests it’s covering scales, the underlying structure creating a rippling effect that catches the light.
Mina shifts back to her human form, the air around her shimmering with the change, and sits on the floor with what I suppose we can call kittens. They move slowly on wobbly feet to their mother, their tiny paws making soft padding sounds on the stone. She purrs deeply to them, the sound rich and soothing, comforting them as they approach. As Mina reaches out to touch them, her fingers disappearing into their damp fur, she smiles, the expression transforming her face with maternal joy.
“They do have scales under their fur. Scales like mine,” she says, her voice filled with wonder. Tears threaten to spill over as she checks out her babies, the salt scent of them mingling with her natural aroma. “Two girls,” she announces with pride. Ziggy shifts back and hugs Mina as they both shed tears of joy, watching the kittens getting used to walking, their tentacles waving experimentally as they learn to control their bodies.
“Looks like we have three daughters to worry about,” Abraxis says as he sits his daughter down near its siblings. The hatchling chirping softly as it notices its new companions.
Mina looks the three little ones over, then looks up at me, her eyes bright with promise and future possibilities. She mouths ‘you’re next’ to me, and I bow my head to her, a warm anticipation spreading through my body at the thought. As a family, we sit on the ground forming a circle around where the hatchlings are, allowing them to come to us in their own time. The stone is cold beneath us, but we hardly notice, too entranced by the new lives exploring their world.
“It’s a miracle to behold, watching the next generation take their first breaths,” I say as I pat Klauth on the shoulder, feeling the tension in his frame. The moment is hitting him hard; I know deep down he wonders what his first clutch would have looked like if they had lived. The thought sends a pang of sympathy through me for my old friend.
“Since Ziggy’s babies are half dragon, will they have a breath weapon?” Mina asks as she looks from her daughters over to Klauth and me, curiosity bright in her eyes.
“No clue, as far as I know, they are the first of their kind,” I say, then look over at Callan, his scientific mind already at work. “We should keep a record of their lives for historical sake. Just in case any of our future progeny take a displacer beast as a mate.” The words feel strange on my tongue—so much has changed in the world since I was young. Yet some things remain constant: the miracle of new life, the continuation of bloodlines.
Callan nods and looks over at Mina, his expression shifting from wonder to scientific interest. “Later, we should weigh all the babies and get a length measurement on them,” he says clinically before looking at Klauth and me. “Just so no one feels singled out, to be fair.” His attempt at diplomacy is touching in its awkwardness.
“That’s a good idea, Callan,” I reply, appreciating his effort to include everyone. He smiles, and I look down to see my newest descendant staring up at me. Mina’s golden eyes stare up at me from a tiny face, and I understand now why they say hatchlings eclipse even your mate. They become the center of your existence, a truth I feel settling into my bones as I meet that innocent gaze, the future of our kind cradled in this stone chamber, safe and new and perfect.
CHAPTER 22
Mina
It’stime to set our plan in motion.
My babies are a month old and can mostly defend themselves now. The scent of their developing scales—metallic and earthy like fresh-turned soil after rain—fills me with pride every time I breathe it in. Well, Ziggy’s two have accidentally caused partial paralysis several times with the spike in the center of their tentacles. The venom sacs beneath their translucent spikes already producing toxins potent enough to cause trouble. Poor Abraxis couldn’t feel his ass for almost two hours this morning alone, his curses echoing through the house as he stumbled around, dragging his numb lower half.
I’ve made sure to be seen digging the new nest site, my claws tearing through earth and stone, leaving a distinct scent trail for any curious drakes to follow. Abraxis has gone into town to boast about getting ready for his first clutch, his voice deliberately loud in the marketplace, according to Callan. Interestingly enough, the attacks on the nest have stopped shortly after. I have a feeling my father is waiting for me to go to the nest before he strikes. The tension in the airgrowing heavier with each passing day, like the pressure before a storm breaks.
I sit here with my sleeping babies nestled among the other hatchlings in my flight. The warmth of their tiny bodies seeping through my clothing, their synchronized breathing creating a gentle rhythm against my skin. Their individual scents—Abraxis’s daughter smelling of pine and iron, Ziggy’s pair carrying notes of ozone and sweet grass—mingle together in a comforting blend that identifies them as mine. I absently stroke the ridges along my daughter’s spine as I plot my next move, feeling the rough texture of her developing scales beneath my fingertips.
“How’s everyone doing?” Vaughn asks as he leans in the doorway, his weight shifting the ancient wood with a soft creak. The scent of leather and stone that always clings to him wafts into the room, distinct even among the myriad dragon scents surrounding me.
“Good, Ziggy phased us down here this morning and my flight is sworn to secrecy when it comes to my hatchlings.” I keep my voice low, not wanting to disturb the sleeping little ones. My three are the youngest in the bunch but also the biggest.
“I hear Vox and Cerce are coming to dinner tonight.” The minute the words leave his mouth, the scales along my spine raise, a prickling sensation that sends a shiver from the base of my skull to the small of my back. My heart rate quickens, the sudden rush of blood in my ears almost drowning out my next words.
“Not by my choice. Thauglor and Abraxis thought it was a good idea,” I grumble, not happy about the idea. The taste of discontent is bitter on my tongue, my jaw tightening with tension.
“I thought no one was to see the hatchlings until after...” he draws the back of his thumb across his throat, the gesture making a soft whisper against his skin.
“That was the plan, but those two have gone rogue on me. When things are set in motion, Ziggy and Balor are going where I told them until it’s over.” I tilt my head, looking at him, hoping he gets the hint. The muscles in my neck strain with the effort of keeping my voice level, controlled despite the anxiety coiling in my gut.
“Got ya. For now, I’ll go help Leander set up for dinner.” Vaughn bends down and kisses me gently, his lips warm and slightly chapped against mine, before turning and leaving. His footsteps fade down the corridor, each one softer than the last until they disappear entirely.
It’s almost time for the next female to come in, so I stroke down the bond for Ziggy, feeling the connection between us hum like a plucked string. Within seconds, he manifests beside me; the air displacing with a soft rush as he appears, smiling as broadly as possible with a hand behind his back. The scent of ozone and wildflowers accompanies his arrival, sharp and sweet.
“There’s the most beautiful momma in the world,” he purrs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the air between us. Then he brings his hand forward with a single lily in his grip, its petals pure white against his tanned skin. Every day since the babies hatched, he brings me a new flower from somewhere beyond our borders, each one unique and fragrant.
I reach out and take it from him, the stem cool and smooth against my palm, and lift it to my nose. The fragrance is delicate yet complex—sweet with undertones of spice that tickles my nostrils. A soft purr escapes my lips as I enjoy the soft floral notes, the sound vibrating in my chest. “Have you given any thoughts about what you want to name your daughters?” I’m leaving the naming up to the fathers for the most part. Not to say I will not veto anything that sounds insane.
“Well, if you really must know.” He lays down and places his head on my lap, his weight warm and substantial against my thighs. His hair tickles my arm, smelling faintly of sunshine and earth. “Belladonnaand Azalea, beautiful yet deadly.” He purrs his answer, the vibration traveling from his body to mine, and I look over at his kittens curled around Abraxis’s daughter. Their four tentacles intertwined with my daughter’s wings, creating a mosaic of scales and fur that catches the dim light filtering through the window.
“Perfect names for two perfect little girls.” I bend forward and kiss his forehead, my lips brushing against his warm skin, tasting the salt there. I smile at him, pleased. He’s picked two of the most sensible names so far. Abraxis, on the other hand, has been having some left-field ideas, each one making me cringe internally.
“Did Abraxis pick names for his daughter yet?” I cringe visibly when Ziggy asks, my nose wrinkling, and he laughs, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “That bad, huh?” He grimaces at the thought, his expression comically exaggerated.
