Page 40 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
“Can it be reversed?” A female pushes through the males gathered, her desperation a tangible thing that hangs in the air around her likea cloud. She clutches her baby in her arms, its small form wrapped tightly in swaddling clothes that can’t quite hide its rigid, unnatural posture.
“It can.” I smile and motion for her to give me the baby, my arms outstretched, palms up in a gesture of welcome and promise.
“What makes you think you can do it? It would take an extremely powerful dragon to do it, and you’re just a female.” By his attitude alone—the haughty tilt of his chin, the disdainful curl of his lip—I know he’s a gold dragon. His scent is spiced and arrogant, like an expensive perfume that’s been applied too heavily.
Thauglor wraps my daughter up in his wings, the protective gesture making the air around them shimmer with heat, as Klauth steps closer to me and the mom. He unties the back of my shirt and opens it so that my scales can be seen, the cool air kissing my exposed skin and making me shiver. He turns me so that my back faces the elders. “Because of her bloodline, and the proof is in the amount of scales she bears in human form. You all received our family trees as proof of who and what we are. My mate is the dominant dragoness in our part of the continent.” He reties my shirt, then kisses my cheek, his lips lingering there, warm and reassuring. “Show them.”
When Klauth steps away, I look at the mom, her eyes wide and hopeful, glistening with unshed tears. “It’s going to hurt, but it will work. I freed all the hatchlings of my flight and my mother-in-law’s flight.” The mom nods and backs away, her scent a mixture of fear and desperate hope.
The tone starts low, deep in my chest, felt more than heard, a vibration that makes the surrounding air dense and charged. Wide-eyed, the baby stares up at me as I shift my eyes to my dragon’s; the color changing from human to reptilian, vertical pupils focusing on the small form in my arms. It thrashes slightly, its limbs stiffening, then relaxing as I feel the hatchling waking up within it. My songbecomes louder, and I hear other babies responding to it, their cries a counterpoint to my deeper tones.
Carefully, I move and sit on the ground. The earth is cool and solid beneath me, cradling the baby, still singing. By the apex of the song, heat radiates from the child in waves, and he shifts into a beautiful purple and white hatchling. He looks up to me with wide eyes, their color a deep amethyst, and tilts his head curiously, his scales catching the light in iridescent flashes. Gently, I sit him on the ground. He takes his first few steps as a hatchling, using his wings and tail for balance, his claws leaving tiny indentations in the soft earth.
“We suspect the mages made the oil and took an ancient tradition and twisted it to fit their agenda.” My eyes find the mother, who now has her hatchling with her, her face wet with tears of joy, her scent now sweet with relief and gratitude.
Murmurs move through the crowd as other hatchlings come to find me, their movements creating a wave of color and sound that flows toward me like a living stream. Being the dominant dragoness, they are seeking safety, and that means finding the strongest dragoness—me. I welcome all the hatchlings and nuzzle each one, learning their scents—each unique, some sweet, some earthy, some with hints of spice or flowers—before looking back at the elders.
“We as a people have a mage problem. They steal our youth, they kill our elders, and make our babies defenseless. The rewriting of the accords was probably done by them, too.” I say as I stand up, my voice steady and clear, carrying across the now-silent clearing.
“I don’t know about you.” I look at my mates before locking eyes with the elders, my gaze unwavering and fierce. “I will not allow any hatchlings, females, or elders to be harmed as long as I draw breath.” All the hatchlings lay at my feet as I stare at the gathered masses, their small bodies a carpet of scales and wings, a physical manifestation of the future I’m fighting to protect.
Whispers move like wildfire through the crowd as I stand alone with the hatchlings, the sound like rustling leaves before a storm. Klauth and Thauglor are in talks with several elders, their deep voices a background rumble that I can feel more than hear. Abraxis holds our daughter to his chest as she sleeps with her head on his shoulder, her small form rising and falling with each breath. Her scent—a sweeter version of my own—carried to me on the gentle breeze.
“I would like to petition to join the Risedale nest,” a young male steps forward, his scales gleaming with youth and health, his posture one of determination and hope. Four more follow behind him. They all appear to be in their mid to late twenties, their scents mingling—eagerness, fear, determination, and something else, something that speaks of ambition and hunger.
“We do not call my nest Risedale anymore. The training of Shadowblades died with my father. We call our nest Sovereign since it is where Klauth and I rule from.” I hold my head high as I look at the five young males, feeling the weight of the diadem on my brow, a physical reminder of my status. “Run the gauntlet that I have beaten three times. If you live, you may join.”
A laugh escapes my lips as I look at the males, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “My father, Abaddon Bladesong, bred me to be a weapon, trained and honed by his hand. I am the last of his Shadowblades, and that tradition dies with me.” I lock eyes with Abraxis, and he nods, his gaze soft with understanding. Deep down, he knows killing my father did more damage than I let on. The memory of it sits heavy in my chest, a weight that makes it hard to breathe sometimes.
On one hand, I am finally free of the nightmares that plagued me, the shadows that haunted my sleep dissolving like morning mist. On the other, his legacy lives on in me, in the way my body moves, in the instincts that keep me alive. The lightning that courses through my veins is because of my resurrection. I can feel it even now, a constantpresence just beneath my skin, ready to be called forth at a moment’s notice—both gift and curse from the man who made me what I am.
CHAPTER 27
Mina
We stayinto the late evening, the sky above us deepening from azure to indigo to black velvet studded with diamond stars. The air grows cooler against my scales, carrying the scents of pine and earth as we engage in deep discussions with several nests. The murmur of voices rises and falls around us like waves, occasionally punctuated by the soft rustle of wings or the scrape of claws against stone.
Several things are agreed on. The betrothal system is abolished and basically outlawed. If someone wants to do the symbolic anointing ceremony, it’s done with essential oils, nothing else. The scent of lavender and rosemary hangs in the air as examples are passed around, so different from the acrid, chemical smell of the binding oil. Females no longer are to wear any form of a mage cage. I can still feel the phantom weight of mine sometimes, the cold metal against my throat. Most of the females want me to teach them to fight, their eager voices creating a symphony of requests that makes my ears ring. I roll my eyes so hard I think they’re going to come out of my head, the muscles aching with the effort. The last thing in place of the betrothal system, we are holding a yearly gathering to allow nature to take its course.
The yearly gathering is Thauglor’s idea, his deep voice resonating in my chest as he explains it. He says it would be like how the females migrated years ago to find a mate. Rules are being set as we speak, the scratch of pen on parchment a constant background noise, mixing with the soft crackling of the fire that illuminated our council circle. The big one I am fighting for is that the females get to choose the male. The males can have competitions the first day of the gathering to show off their strength and dragon. Day two, we have a meet and greet where the females can speak to the males directly. By the end of day three, either you have a mate or you are in talks for a marriage.
The way Thauglor fights for the change, his voice rising with passion, his scent heavy with determination, I know he’s picturing a world where he has a daughter. Especially since while he’s talking about the gathering, he’s holding Lily, her tiny form nestled against his massive chest, her scales gleaming like polished obsidian in the firelight. He’s making sure our daughters and future daughters to come are safe, his protective instinct palpable in the air around him.
We takeoff to head home. It’s been a long day, and I really want to see the rest of my family. “Do you think those males will come to Shadowcarve?” Abraxis asks as he walks up my dragon’s neck, holding onto my frill, his footsteps a gentle pressure against my scales. The night wind tousles his hair, carrying his familiar scent to me—pine and something uniquely him.
I rumble to him. We will have to wait and see the vibration deep in my throat, making my scales shift slightly. Turning my head, I look at Thauglor with Lily sleeping between his wings on his back, her small form rising and falling with each breath, perfectly secure in hernest father’s protection. It’s moments like this I know the books were wrong about the ancients.
Then I remember when a male from an orange dragon nest wanted to fight for his right to be a mate. Just as my silver talons broke free, Thauglor already had the male up in the air by his throat, the unfortunate male’s feet kicking helplessly. With a flick of his wrist, the male’s neck snapped like a twig, the sound sickeningly final in the sudden silence. The scent of fear and death hung heavy in the air for hours afterward. In that instant, the books were far too kind about the level of brutality my mate is capable of.
‘She’s doing fine, little momma,’Thauglor tilts his head, looking at me, the moonlight catching in his ancient eyes. He knows I keep checking on her out of habit, my gaze drawn to my daughter like a compass to north.
‘Sorry, it’s not that I don’t trust you with her. I just feel better with her on me,’I apologize and lower my head slightly, the movement causing my scales to rustle softly.
‘Never apologize for worrying about your progeny. You’re an excellent mother. You love your children so much and take such good care of them and all the hatchlings in our flight,’Klauth says as he banks closer to me for a moment so that the tips of our wings touch briefly, the contact sending a shiver through me. His massive form blocks out the stars momentarily, his shadow falling across me like a caress.
‘I thought I was going to fail as a mom because I barely could spend time with mine.’There’s a sourness to my tone, and a mournful whine escapes my lips, the sound carrying across the night air.
“What’s wrong, Mina?” Abraxis asks as he takes a seat between my frill and horn on my head, his weight a comfortable pressure. I can feel his concern in the way his body tenses, his heartbeat quickening slightly.
