Page 46 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
“She’s beautiful,” Ty says as he smiles at her, his voice softening from its earlier grimness, the scent of his pride and wonder cutting through the room’s heaviness.
“Lily, watch what Mommy does. It’s how those of iron dragon blood greet each other.” Mina steps forward and touches her horns to Ty’s. I can see a small leap of current between them, like static electricity but more purposeful. A blue-white spark that jumps across theminuscule gap as their horns meet. The air crackles with energy, raising the fine hairs on my arms.
“Do you want to try?” Ty asks, then bows his head, the movement graceful despite his warrior’s frame. Lily stares at his horns, her tiny eyes narrowing in concentration, then rises and touches her tiny horns to one of his. A soft smile crosses his lips before he stands straight, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Very good. Now our dragons will know each other,” he says before Njall walks over and lowers his head for Lily. The leather of his jacket creaks with the movement, and his boots scrape against the stone floor. She touches her horns to one of his, and I watch him smile as well, the hard lines around his eyes softening momentarily.
“Thank you, little cousin,” Njall says with a smile, his voice warming like metal heated in a forge.
“So what do we do about the mages?” Abraxis asks as he walks over and nuzzles his daughter. His footsteps are heavy with purpose, and the scent of his concern—sharp like pine and bitter like burnt coffee—fills the surrounding air. His wings ruffle slightly against his back, the sound like pages turning in a book.
“We send scouts,” Klauth says as he raises the bourbon to his lips. The amber liquid catches the light, glowing like trapped fire in the crystal tumbler. I can smell the rich, woody scent of the alcohol from where I sit. The ice clinks against the glass as he swirls it, the sound oddly musical in the tense atmosphere.
“Ziggy, we need a team of your people to get close and spy on the mages,” Mina says as she looks around the room, her gaze finally settling on me. Her eyes have darkened to the color of storm clouds, and I can sense the rage simmering beneath her controlled exterior, heat radiating from her skin in waves that make the air shimmer slightly around her.
“I’ll send at least two spies in,” I reply, feeling the weight of responsibility settle across my shoulders like a heavy cloak. I look down at the list on my phone, the blue light from the screen casting eerie shadows across my face, and then send out the text. My fingers tap rapidly against the glass surface, each contact creating a soft clicking sound. Several replies come back almost immediately, their arrival marked by gentle vibrations against my palm. I have three teams of two willing to cycle in and out, spying over the days to come. The knowledge should bring relief, but instead, it only underscores the danger we’re all facing. The taste of fear is metallic on my tongue, not unlike the scent of the iron dragons who now fight for their survival.
As I look up from my phone, I catch Mina’s eye across the room. In that moment of shared understanding, I feel the weight of what’s coming—a storm gathering on the horizon, thunder already rumbling in the distance. The dragons around me, these ancient and powerful beings, now look vulnerable in ways I never imagined possible. And somehow, I’ve become integral to their survival. The thought settles in my chest like a burning coal, painful yet strangely energizing. Whatever comes, we face it together, this strange family forged not just by blood but by choice and necessity.
Mina and Vaughnreturn to classes this morning, the scent of their departure—a mixture of leather, metal, and Mina’s distinctive iron-tinged perfume—still lingering in the hallway. Me? I’m on hatchling duty. For my sanity’s sake, Mina had all the babies shift to their human forms, so they’re easier to manage. The transformation itself was a sight to behold—scales melting into soft skin, wings receding into tiny shoulder blades, their eyes the last feature to change but still keeping that otherworldly gleam.
Sitting around the breakfast table this morning has been a trip. The polished wood surface is littered with colorful plastic plates, spilled juice creating sticky amber puddles that catch the morning light streaming through the tall windows. My twins will eat anything I set in front of them, their little fingers grabbing eagerly at scrambled eggs and toast, the wet sounds of their chewing and occasional giggles filling the quiet kitchen. Lily is a picky eater like her father. She pushes food around her plate, her tiny nose wrinkling at the scents she finds displeasing, her silverware scraping against the ceramic in a way that makes my teeth ache.
The sound of heavy boots on the hardwood floors makes me look up, the distinctive cadence of each step as recognizable as a voice. I see Klauth approaching, his massive frame momentarily blocking the sunlight, casting the breakfast nook into shadow. The surrounding air seems to heat up by several degrees, his presence commanding even in domestic settings like this.
“Morning,” I say, giving him a little wave before offering Lily a chunk of breakfast sausage that steams in the cool air. The spicy aroma wafts upward, making my stomach rumble but causing Lily to turn her head away, her silver-flecked eyes narrowing in displeasure.
“Is she still being difficult about eating?” Klauth asks as he pours himself a cup of coffee, the rich, bitter scent cutting through the sweeter breakfast smells. The dark liquid splashes into his mug, its surface reflecting the kitchen lights like polished obsidian.
“Yeah. She eats best for Abraxis and Mina.” I shrug a little, the movement making my shirt brush against my skin, still sensitive from yesterday’s training. “Maybe it’s a dragon thing?”
“Perhaps. Do you want me to ask her?” Klauth sits close to where Lily is, the chair creaking ominously under his weight. The leather of his jacket tightens across his shoulders as he leans forward. The hatchling turns her head and smiles up at him, her tiny teeth gleaming like pearls against her pink gums.
“That would be very helpful.” I slide her plate over to him, the ceramic making a soft scraping sound against the wooden table, and he looks at it before rumbling to her. The sound vibrates through the air, so low it’s almost more felt than heard, raising goosebumps along my arms.
They rumble back and forth for several minutes, their draconic communication like distant thunder, before he smiles and pushes the plate away. The scent of the rejected sausage, heavy with pepper and sage, still lingers between them.
“She doesn’t like the sausage. She says it’s spicy and makes her stomach hurt. Lily would like either the breakfast ham or bacon, if possible.” He smiles before kissing her temple, his lips leaving a faint impression on her soft skin that fades quickly like a whisper.
“Oh, okay, that’s easy enough to fix.” I get up, my chair scraping against the floor, and grab several pieces of bacon that crackle and gleam with fat, along with some cubes of breakfast ham, its glazed surface catching the light. The savory aroma intensifies as I arrange them on a fresh plate, the warmth seeping through the ceramic and into my fingers. No sooner do I slide the plate in front of her than she eats, her tiny teeth tearing into the meat with surprising strength, the sound of her satisfied chewing oddly comforting.
Arching a brow, I glance from her to my babies, their faces smeared with egg and jam, then back to Klauth. “When do you think they will start talking? I mean, I know our species grow at different speeds and all.” I refill the twins’ plates while I wait for an answer, the clatter of serving spoons against serving dishes punctuating the morning quiet.
“Your progeny are half dragon, so it may slow how fast they grow,” he says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest like stones tumbling down a mountainside. “I would say you should start getting words out of them between ten and eighteen months old.” He takes a sip of his coffee, watching the little ones eat over the rim of his mug. Thesteam curls upward, caressing his face before dissipating into the cool air. “Thankfully, their beasts can speak for them to convey their needs. Your children speak both displacer and dragon, correct?” He tilts his head, looking at my daughters, the movement causing his hair to shift, revealing the sharp angles of his face.
“I think so. I know they understand me and Mina, so yeah.” I tilt my head, looking at him, feeling the weight of my damp hair against my neck. “Do you think all the hatchlings will understand both species’ shifts?”
Klauth stares into his coffee mug for a moment, his reflection distorted in the dark liquid. “Maybe. Your babies are the exception, not the rule. They are almost an even split between both parents. We’ll have to see.” He takes another sip of his coffee, the bitter aroma briefly intensifying, and then pauses when Lily rumbles to him, the sound making the spoons on the table vibrate slightly. He rumbles back and laughs, the unexpected sound warming the room like sudden sunshine. “Lily would like the nuggets Leander makes for lunch if possible. She figured she would ask now while I am here to tell you.” Klauth slowly stands, his joints popping softly, and kisses Lily on the top of her head, his lips lingering against her dark curls, and does the same with my twins, the scent of his cologne—something ancient and spicy—briefly enveloping them. “Have a great day, everyone,” he says as he leaves to start his day, his footsteps fading down the hallway like retreating thunder.
I look back at the children as they finish their meals, the sounds of their satisfaction—little hums and sighs—filling the kitchen. Mina makes it all look so easy, her movements always graceful even with the three hatchlings demanding her attention. Maybe it’s just a mom thing? When the little ones finish eating, I wash their hands and faces, the warm water turning their cheeks pink, before sitting them in the cart to roll them into the playroom. The wheels squeak slightly on the hardwood, a rhythmic complaint that somehow soothes the babies.
The minute I set them on the ground, they shift—their bodies rippling and changing with soft popping sounds, the air briefly filled with the scent of ozone and something wild—and start running around playing. Their scaled bodies gleam under the lights, tiny claws clicking against the floor, tails sweeping behind them like living pendulums. Glancing at the clock, its steady ticking marking time like a heartbeat, I know they usually run around for about an hour to two before nap time, their energy eventually burning out in a predictable pattern.
After lunch,which fills the kitchen with the scent of Leander’s famous chicken nuggets—crispy on the outside, tender within, seasoned with herbs that make even my mouth water—I take them to the lower level to the hatchling nursery to play with the others. It’s Cora’s day to watch over the hatchlings, so at least they get to play with their cousins while they’re there, their excited chirps and rumbles echoing off the stone walls as soon as they sense their kin.
It makes me wonder; the thought settling in my mind like a stone dropped into still water, creating ripples of possibility. What if one of Mina’s hatchlings yet to be born is a mate to Cora’s hatchlings or one of the others in the nursery? The idea sends a shiver down my spine. Not unpleasant but heavy with possibility. In our world of predestined pairs and ancient bloodlines, the future might already be written in the interactions of these tiny beings, their playful nips and affectionate head-butts perhaps the first chapter in a story that will span centuries.
Ziggy: Just had a thought. Can a hatchling recognize another hatchling is its future mate?
Callan: What made you think of that?
