Page 35 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
CHAPTER 23
Balor
PING … PING … PING …
Whoever taughtKlauth to text deserves to die a slow, horrible death. He sends every sentence by itself, the constant vibrations of my phone against my thigh like an irritating insect that won’t stop buzzing. Apparently, that’s the least of our concerns. Besides the fact that Abraxis’s family is here for dinner, they are here to meet the hatchlings long before Mina intended. We can clearly hear her yell at them from her room down the hallway. Her voice carries through the stone walls like thunder across a valley. Everyone freezes, not sure what to do. The tension in the air is so thick I could cut it with a talon.
“Mina doesn’t sound happy,” Cora says as she looks towards the door leading to the private part of the residence, her delicate features pinched with concern. The scent of her anxiety—sharp and acidic—mingles with aromas already filling the chamber.
“That’s an understatement, pipsqueak.” I mess up her hair as I stare at the door, waiting to see if the two black dragons survive ourmate’s wrath. The silky strands slip through my fingers, still smelling faintly of jasmine shampoo. My heart pounds against my ribs, each beat resonating deep in my chest as we wait for the inevitable confrontation.
“She has to understand we would never endanger her babies,” Cerce says, looking distraught. Her voice wavers slightly, the sound brittle in the tense silence.
“Mina didn’t have the best childhood; you know that. Think about it from her point of view.” I pause, waiting for what I’ve said to sink in, watching their expressions shift like shadows across their faces. “She’s very protective of her babies, how she wished her mother would have been of her.” As soon as the words leave my lips, I see how Abraxis’s family changes the anxious way they were standing, their postures softening, eyes widening with understanding.
“It didn’t even cross my mind to think about that,” Vox mentions and sighs, his breath heavy with regret. “Looks like my ancestor and son messed up big time going against Mina’s wishes.” He shakes his head and stares at the floor, the polished stone reflecting the dim light from the chandeliers above.
“We can still salvage tonight. Just don’t crowd Mina and the hatchlings, and we should be okay. Her first instinct is to either attack or flee with them.” I glance over at Ziggy, his scent—wild and earthy—somehow comforting.
“I’ll encourage fleeing. You haven’t seen her dragoness lately; it’s terrifying,” Ziggy mentions as Abraxis and Thauglor wander in. Both look like they got their asses handed to them, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast. The smell of humiliation clings to them like a second skin, sharp and bitter.
“So, as everyone has figured out, we fucked up. Mina’s pissed, and Klauth is in there trying to calm her down with the babies,” Abraxis says and then stares back down the hallway before looking at me. “Iam so sorry if she’s going to be in a shit mood for you later.” He pats my shoulder, the contact firm but brief, and I can’t help but laugh, the sound breaking through the tension like sunlight through storm clouds.
“I’m not the one that pissed her off. I’ll be fine,” I smirk at him just as Mina appears, framed in the doorway like a painting of maternal ferocity. The black dragon hatchling is sprawled out across Mina’s shoulders, barely fitting, its weight causing her to adjust her stance slightly. Its long tail has spikes like her mother’s dragon, the tips catching the light like polished obsidian. Mina is holding the mostly green displacer kitten, its fur rippling over scales in a mesmerizing pattern that catches the eye. Klauth has the mostly black one, the creature looking tiny and delicate in his massive hands.
I can see how uncomfortable Mina is by how she’s staying back and away from everyone. Her stance is defensive, weight shifted to the balls of her feet as if ready to bolt. Her eyes are darting everywhere, scanning the room for threats, then lock on me, pleading silently. The connection between us vibrates with unspoken emotion, a tether I can almost feel physically. I walk over and take the kitten in her arms from her and kiss her temple, tasting salt on her skin. The little dragoness on her shoulder sticks her forked tongue out at me, the gesture surprisingly endearing, then presses her forehead against mine. Her scales are warm and slightly rough against my skin, like sun-heated sandpaper. So far, so good.
“As everyone can see, we have three babies.” She looks down and then sighs, the sound heavy with both pride and trepidation. “Three daughters.” Cora’s face lights up, and Mina raises her hand towards her, the movement sharp and decisive. “Klauth and I are abolishing the betrothal system this month. Besides, my daughter,” she rests her hand on the dragon’s tail, scales clicking softly against her nails, “is your brother’s progeny, and ew.”
Cora rolls her eyes and laughs, the sound light and musical in the heavy atmosphere. “Yeah, I forgot about that. But why do away with the betrothal system?” She leans against Warrick, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.
Laughing, Mina’s gaze turns absolutely feral, pupils contracting to slits in a sea of gold. “Since you are such a fan of the betrothal system, maybe I’ll kill Warrick and force you to marry what’s left of Attor, like it was contracted for?” The surrounding air seems to crackle with energy, raising the fine hairs on my arms. The bone plates in Mina’s face shift, making her features more angular and predatory as she stares at Cora. “I will not betroth any of my children to anyone. Ever.” She turns her head suddenly to Klauth, and he nods, his movement precise and controlled.
“It’s the first thing on the docket tomorrow for the things being abolished. It didn’t exist in my time, and it sure as hell will not exist now.” Klauth stands taller, his presence expanding to fill the room like a physical force. The scent of brimstone emanating from him grows stronger, acrid in my nostrils. Mina calms down immediately, her posture relaxing slightly, while Abraxis’s family backs up several steps, the soles of their shoes scraping against the stone floor.
“It won’t be easy. But change never is,” Thauglor says as he leans in to kiss Mina’s cheek, his lips barely brushing her skin, a gesture both affectionate and submissive.
“Anyway. Since we are having a family night, let’s go to the sitting room and see if the little ones want to play.” I stare down at the kitten in my arms. It’s mostly green fur is a direct nod to her mother’s scales. The creature weighs surprisingly little, like holding a bundle of warm silk, and I can feel the vibration of its purr against my chest. “Is this Belle or Azalea?” I arch a brow, looking at Mina.
“Belle,” she smiles as she lowers her head, purring. The sound is deep and soothing, resonating in the chamber like distant thunder. The kitten lifts its head, purring back at its mom, the higher-pitchedsound blending with Mina’s in a harmonious duet. I follow Mina into the sitting room and see the pile of furs in the corner, their rich textures and colors inviting in the warm glow of the hearth fire. She heads right over there and sits down, letting her babies climb all over her, their tiny claws catching occasionally on her clothing with soft snags.
The two kittens tumble and rough-house with each other, their movements a mesmerizing blur of emerald green and midnight black across the plush furs. Each impact creates a muted thud against the padded surface, the sound oddly comforting in our stone chamber. The air carries their musky, wild scent—a reminder of their dual nature. The hatchling sits content on Mina’s lap, her scales gleaming like polished onyx under the warm amber glow of the wall sconces. She watches the other two play, occasionally chirping encouragement, the sound high and musical like a songbird’s call at dawn.
Cora approaches cautiously with her two children in their human forms, their footsteps barely audible on the cold stone floor. The scent of pine and earth clings to them, marking them as forest-dwellers. Lily picks her head up and chirps at the boys, the sound inquisitive and friendly, her eyes bright with curiosity.
“Why don’t they shift and play with Lily?” I ask, noticing the stiffness in Cora’s shoulders, the subtle tightening around her eyes. I see her cringe, her expression falling like a stone dropped into still water. The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees.
“Before we knew what the anointing oil did, they were anointed.” Cora lowers her head and sighs, the sound laden with regret, her breath shaky with suppressed emotion. The revelation sits heavy in my stomach, a cold weight of understanding dawning as I realize the implications. The bitter taste of injustice fills my mouth. Some traditions, it seems, cause harm that spans generations—a lesson Mina is determined our daughters will never learn firsthand.
“I can break the anointing oil’s hold, but it’s going to hurt,” Mina offers, her voice steady but tinged with resolve. She gently hands her hatchling to Abraxis, her movements deliberate and careful. “Shield her with your wings.”
Abraxis does as he’s told, his massive wings unfurling with a sound like leather being stretched, creating a protective cocoon of darkness around the little one. I scoop up the two kittens, their fur silky and warm against my palms, their little hearts racing beneath my fingertips. I pass them to Thauglor so he can protect them, his ancient eyes meeting mine with understanding.
“Do it,” Cora says, her voice cracking slightly as she places both of her children before Mina. The air grows thick with tension, making it difficult to breathe.
Mina moves slowly like a predator stalking its prey until she’s eye level with the children. The scales along her back and shoulders raise up, catching the light in a threatening display. A low pitch rumbles through the air, felt more than heard, vibrating in my chest and rattling my teeth. The children tense and start jerking, their small bodies rigid with pain. I smell the sharp tang of fear and distress permeating the room. They collapse to the ground, spasming. Vox and Warrick have to grab their mates, fingers digging into resistant flesh, to keep them from interfering. The air grows heavy with the metallic scent of power—ancient and primal.
After several tense moments that feel like an eternity, the children shift. Two little hatchlings sit on the floor, disoriented, their scales glistening with moisture from the transformation. They are mostly black with varying amounts of bronze mixed in, their wings still damp and crumpled against their sides. They shake themselves out, disoriented by the shift.
