Page 66 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
I watch Mina’s scales rise and fall with his words, the movement like a wave passing over her body, betraying her emotion more clearly than words ever could. She’s disappointed in Abraxis and his jealousy. To be honest, I am too; the realization sitting cold and heavy in my gut as the night deepens around us, and we settle in for what promises to be a long, anxious vigil beneath stars that seem suddenly colder and more distant than they did just hours before.
Balorand I decided after dinner to shift and join the dragons in the courtyard for the overnight. The transformation sends waves of pain through my limbs as bones crack and reform, my skin tingling as feathers and fur erupt to replace it. The chilly night air feels different against my griffon form, each current and eddy detectable through the sensitive nerve endings in my plumage. The stone beneath my talons keeps the day’s warmth, a pleasant contrast to the chill that has settled over the mountain as night deepens.
Somewhere in the three AM hour, Mina wakes with a start, her massive body tensing beside mine, scales rasping against stone as she surges to her feet. The sudden movement sends a gust of her scent washing over me—ozone and wildflowers now mixed with theacrid tang of adrenaline. She lights the lower courtyard up like a laser light show, her breath weapon erupting in a blinding flash that makes my eyes water and my vision spot with afterimages. The air crackles with electricity, making my feathers stand on end and sending static shocks through my body where I touch the ground. Several mages are burned to a crisp where they stand, the smell of charred flesh and melted fabric filling the night air, a nauseating mixture that makes my stomach clench. Their bodies hit the stone with dull thuds, smoke rising from the blackened remains in thin, acrid tendrils that catch in my throat.
Njall and Ty take to the air to search the area close to the nest, their powerful wings creating down draughts that stir up dust and small debris, pelting my face with tiny stinging particles. The sound of their wings cutting through the air grows fainter as they distance themselves, but soon the night is punctuated by the distinctive roar of their breath weapons, flashes of light illuminating the clouds from below like distant lightning. We watch them use their breath weapons several times before returning, their scales gleaming with sweat and excitement when they land, sending tremors through the courtyard floor I feel through my talons.
Like Mina, they don’t shift back and stand guard on either side of her, their massive bodies forming a living wall of muscle and scale, heat radiating from them in waves that distort the air like mirages. The scent of their exertion mingles with the odor of burned flesh from below, creating a pungent reminder of the violence that has touched our sanctuary.
As the sun slowly rises, painting the eastern sky in washes of pink and gold that reflect off the mountain peaks like fire, I see Mina still scanning the horizon, refusing to shift back. Her eyes, usually vibrant gold, have a dull, exhausted cast to them, though they never cease their vigilant sweep of the landscape. Her scales, normally shimmering emerald and silver, seem muted in the early morning light, as though her fatigue has physically dimmed her luster. Lily is sleepingatop Balor’s basilisk form next to his head, her tiny body rising and falling with each breath, obsidian scales catching the first rays of dawn and transforming them into rainbow prisms. She knows she’s safe with him, his massive serpentine body curled protectively around her, his crimson eyes half-lidded but alert, scanning for any threat to his precious charge.
By the time the sun breaks over the mountains, sending long golden fingers of light stretching across the courtyard and warming my feathers, Abraxis walks out carrying a tray with coffee and waffles. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm maple syrup cuts through the lingering scent of battle, making my stomach growl despite my anger. I shift back, bones cracking and reforming once more, my skin prickling as feathers recede into flesh. The cool morning air raises goosebumps on my suddenly exposed human skin, making me shiver slightly as I stare at him, jaw clenched so tight I can feel a headache building at my temples.
“How was that super soft bed of yours?” I snap, looking at him, not bothering to keep the contempt from my voice. The words taste bitter on my tongue, sharp with the anger I’ve been nursing through the long night watch.
“Whoa, why are you mad at me?” He sets the tray down on a nearby stone bench, the china cups rattling slightly against the saucers, looking puzzled. His hair is tousled from sleep, cheeks still bearing the crease marks of pillows, eyes clear and rested in a way none of us who maintained the vigil can claim.
“Why? You left your mate and child outside instead of staying with them. And you wonder why you’re not the head drake of this flight.” The accusation comes out harsher than I intended, the words carrying the weight of exhaustion and fear that has built through the night. I don’t bother taking anything from him before I walk away, my bare feet slapping against the cold stone, sending jolts of discomfort up my legs that I welcome as a distraction from my anger.
I hear him rushing to catch up with me, the sound of his boots on stone a rapid staccato that matches the sudden racing of my heart. “Callan, wait,” Abraxis yells for me, his voice cracking with emotion. I stop and whirl on him, the sudden movement making my head spin slightly, reminding me I haven’t eaten since yesterday.
“What is your issue?” I yell at him and look back over at Mina as she turns her head slightly to look at us, the movement slow and deliberate, like a mountain shifting. Her golden eyes fix on us for a moment, filled with a weariness that makes my chest ache, before she looks back to the horizon, her vigil unbroken despite our disturbance.
“I have a ton of things wrong; we know this,” Abraxis says, his voice dropping to almost a whisper, forcing me to lean in to hear him over the morning breeze that carries the scent of pine and distant snow. “I’m scared, I’m jealous, I never felt like I’m enough, especially now.” He motions to his wing, the damaged membrane catching the sunlight, revealing its thinness, the network of veins more visible than they should be, a permanent reminder of his vulnerability. He shakes his head, the movement causing his hair to fall across his eyes, which he brushes away with a hand that trembles slightly. “I can’t defend my nest, mate, or child.” He lowers his head and looks out over the horizon, his profile sharp against the brightening sky, jawline tense with suppressed emotion. “If they die... If they don’t come back...” He stops talking and looks down, swallowing hard enough that I can hear the click in his throat.
“You’re afraid you’ll be challenged for Mina,” I finally get to the root of it all, and it makes sense, the realization washing away some of my anger like morning dew under the strengthening sun. Abraxis nods, the movement barely perceptible, and moves to go lean against Mina’s front leg in silence, his hand resting on her scales, fingers tracing the patterns there as if memorizing them by touch. I can see where his fear is coming from, and it’s valid. If other males know he’s injured and the ancients are gone, they will come for Mina with avengeance, drawn by her power and beauty like moths to a flame, heedless of the destruction their pursuit might bring.
The morning light strengthens, warming my skin and highlighting the exhaustion etched into Abraxis’s features, the dark circles under his eyes, the new lines at the corners of his mouth that speak of worry beyond his years. My anger fades, replaced by a hollow understanding. We are all afraid, all vulnerable in different ways. Mina’s gaze remains fixed on the western horizon, her body a monument to patient fear, while around her, her family keeps watch, each of us fighting our own battles while waiting for news of the war being waged far beyond our sight, but never beyond the reach of our hearts.
CHAPTER 45
Mina
They’re both stillalive and so very far away, their presence through our bond a faint warmth in the back of my mind, like distant candlelight flickering in a vast darkness. I understand why Abraxis is scared. I’m scared too. The fear is like a cold serpent coiled in my stomach, its grip tightening with each passing hour. Anyone at any time can come and challenge him for control of the nest and me, the thought making my scales threaten to erupt beneath my human skin. If they fight as humans, he stands a chance, but most of the dominance challenges are dragon versus dragon, and his damaged wing makes him vulnerable in ways that could prove fatal.
A bird catches my attention as I ponder what’s happening, its cry sharp and mournful as it circles overhead, perhaps sensing the violence that has stained this place. The sound pierces through my exhausted thoughts, momentarily grounding me to the present. For all our sakes, I hope the ancients return sooner than later. It’s only a matter of time before someone figures out that Abraxis is the only male dragon in the nest and he’s injured, the knowledge spreading like poison through the dragon community.
Walking to the edge of the cliff, I look down at the crew cleaning the courtyard, their movements methodical as they scrub away the charred remains and bloodstains, the acrid smell of cleaning chemicals mingling with the lingering scent of burned flesh. We’ve torched three waves of mages, and I’m not sure how many died in the woods that my cousins killed, their bodies lost among the trees where shadows and silence now reign. Either way, the numbers are staggering, a testament to the violence that has touched our sanctuary. I can only hope that with their forces divided, Klauth and Thauglor come home in one piece, the possibility of losing them making my chest tight with barely suppressed panic.
“Mina, I have food for you,” Ziggy’s voice rings out, carrying across the courtyard with its familiar warmth and concern. I turn my head to look down at him, and the rich aroma of barbecue sauce and perfectly smoked meat reaches my nostrils, making my stomach clench with sudden hunger. I smell wings and ribs—my favorite, the scent triggering a Pavlovian response despite my emotional turmoil.
I shift back slowly, my dragoness reluctantly releasing my human form, the transformation accompanied by the now-familiar sensation of bones reshaping and scales receding into skin. The cool mountain air hits my suddenly exposed flesh, raising goosebumps along my arms and making me shiver slightly. “Thanks,” I say, my voice hoarse from exhaustion and the emotional strain of the past two days.
We walk over to the bench, and he sets up the food, the plastic containers making soft snapping sounds as he opens them. The steam that rises carries the rich, smoky aroma that normally would have me salivating, but now only serves as a reminder of normalcy in a world gone mad.
“Are you okay?” Ziggy glances around the courtyard, his eyes taking in the scorch marks and gouges in the stone, then allows the glow tofade from his eyes, the otherworldly luminescence dimming until they appear completely feline.
I finish chewing the bite of rib, the meat tender and falling off the bone, flavored with the perfect balance of spice and smoke that should be comforting but tastes like ash in my mouth. “If I say yes, I’m lying,” I admit, the words heavy with exhaustion and fear. I take another bite, chewing it slowly, trying to parse what I want to say, the act of eating more mechanical than pleasurable. “They’re alive, uninjured, and fighting.” I stare down at my food, watching the barbecue sauce glisten under the morning sunlight. “Klauth is willing to die to protect the nest and the continent. He doesn’t want future generations to fear mages hunting them.” I feel a single tear run down my cheek, warm and salty, tracing a path over skin that feels too sensitive, too raw.
“Are they almost done?” Ziggy asks as he hands me a cup of juice, the glass cool against my palms, condensation already forming on the outside in the warming air. Vaughn and Leander slowly approach, joining us, their footsteps careful and measured, as if they’re afraid sudden movements might shatter what little composure I have left.
I stare down at the ground in front of me, focusing on a small crack in the stone that runs between my feet like a lightning bolt frozen in time. I search what I’m feeling through the bond, reaching across the miles to touch the edges of my mates’ consciousness. Klauth isn’t as angry as he was; his rage has dulled to simmering anger, like coals that have burned down but still glow with dangerous heat. Thauglor is making tactical strikes while Klauth draws all the attention to him, his presence in my mind cool and calculating, a sharp contrast to Klauth’s burning fury. “It feels like it. But I can’t tell if it’s more exhaustion or if they are almost done,” I say, accepting the fork that Ziggy holds up with a piece of sausage on the end. The meat is perfectly seasoned, with a slight snap to the casing that releases a burst of flavor across my tongue, but even this small pleasure feels muted by my worry.
“Have they said anything to you?” Leander asks as he sits beside me, the bench creaking slightly under his weight, the sound oddly comforting in its normalcy.
“Thauglor warned me about the mages before they struck,” I say, sipping at my juice, the citrus tang sharp and refreshing against my dry throat. “He saw half the troops split off to come here,” I add, accepting another bite from Ziggy, this one a piece of perfectly cooked rib meat that practically melts in my mouth.
“How did they know to come here?” Vaughn asks, and I sigh before reaching up to touch my hair, the emerald and silver strands catching the sunlight like spun metal, beautiful and damning in equal measure.
