Page 75 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
“I’m guessing the dragon egg shell is harder than a basilisk’s?” Balor glances over at Klauth, seeking knowledge from the ancient’s vast experience.
“It would seem so,” Klauth says as we watch Azalea rip the end off of the egg and back up, meowing at the hatchling within, her call both encouraging and welcoming.
My heart is thundering in my chest, each beat so powerful I can feel it reverberating through my entire massive frame. I can see the forked tongue flick outside of the shell, tasting the air with quick, darting movements. Slowly, the black scales of its face can be seen, gleaming like polished obsidian in the torchlight. It slithers out and coils close to Lily, movements fluid and graceful despite being newly hatched. It has silver spikes around its head like my horns, each one perfectly formed and catching the light like tiny blades. It has six eyes like Balor, but they are all mine in color—golden that seems to glow with inner fire. The ridge of its nose is dragonic, with heavy plating and razor-sharp scales like me, already showing the promise of formidable protection.
I turn my head to look at the hatchling and gently remove the empty eggshell. The fragments are still warm from the life they’ve protected. My hatchling is the size of what a four-month-old basilisk would be, already impressively large and well-developed. Carefully, Ilift it with my teeth, my massive jaws gentle as silk despite their deadly potential, and place it in its father’s arms. I watch it coil around its father’s body to hold on, instinct already guiding it to seek safety and warmth. If Balor was any happier, I think he would cry, his eyes bright with unshed tears that speak of overwhelming joy and pride.
The other two dragon eggs start cracking and rolling, the sounds like breaking glass mixed with the rustle of shifting shells. The green and silver one finally loses its end cap with a soft pop. The hatchling that stumbles out is almost an exact copy of me right down to its frill, but what catches my attention is that it has the red eyes of the basilisk, glowing like garnets in the torchlight, the curved horns of the black dragon, and the membranes on its wings and frill are red like Klauth’s scales. The combination is breathtaking and impossible.‘Did I somehow combine all of us into one baby?’I stare at my hatchling, confused by the miraculous fusion of traits.
“I think Mina is right,” Thauglor says out loud, his voice filled with wonder and scientific curiosity.
“Right about what?” Callan asks as he stares at the newest hatchling, his eyes wide with amazement.
“She somehow combined the three fathers and herself into this hatchling,” Thauglor says and looks over at Klauth, both ancients sharing a look of profound astonishment.
The hatchling in question wobbles its way over to Lily and lays down next to her, small body already seeking the comfort of family. My eyes move to the last two eggs, anticipation building like pressure in my chest. The eggs that hold the progeny of my two ancient mates both have the ends off of them. Shell fragments scattered around like broken promises. Neither hatchling is making a move to climb out yet, content to rest in the safety of their shells. I lower my head and sniff at both eggs, my nostrils flaring as I take in their scents. Thehatchlings are fine—they’re just resting, gathering strength for their grand entrance into the world.
Thauglor’s hatchling makes the decision to follow, and when it steps out into the light, I am in awe. Its scales are black as pitch, so dark they seem to absorb the torchlight rather than reflect it. The start of small curved horns rest on the sides of its head, promising future majesty. The horns are silver like mine but curled and positioned like a black dragon’s, the perfect fusion of our heritage. The hatchling moves around my forelegs to the side closest to its father, movements already showing the confidence of dragonic nobility.
When it looks up, it has Thauglor’s sapphire eyes, a brilliant blue that seems to hold the depth of oceans. He staggers back, staring down at his progeny with an expression of wonder that transforms his entire face. “May I?” His voice wavers as he looks down at the little one, hands trembling with the need to touch, but held back by respect for my maternal drive.
I take the tip of my maw and nudge his progeny closer to him, the gentle push carrying all my love and trust. The minute the hatchling is within reach, he scoops it up, his large hands cradling the small form with infinite care. He hugs the hatchling to his chest and starts purring so deeply that the sound vibrates through the chamber floor, a rumble of pure joy.
I turn and look at Lily and the little green and silver hatchling, then focus on coaxing the last hatchling to come out, my attention split between celebration and anticipation.
Klauth is practically vibrating with nervous energy, waiting for the last hatchling to emerge, his usual confidence replaced by anxiety. I shift back to my human form, the familiar sensation of bones reshaping and scales receding washing over me. I kneel close to the hatchlings, watching and waiting with bated breath. He comes to kneel next to me, his warmth a comfort against my side, and we wait for the hatchling to walk out.
It hesitates for a moment, then takes its first steps out into the world, movements cautious but determined. It looks like I cloned Klauth right down to the blood-red scales that gleam like rubies in the torchlight. It has a small frill that runs from its shoulders to between its horns, the delicate membrane beautiful and unique. The frill has an intricate pattern of our colors blended together on the leather—red and green and silver swirling in patterns that speak of our joined heritage. When the hatchling spreads its wings, the bone fingers are red, and the leather displays the same pattern of our colors together, creating a living work of art.
“I have a daughter!” Thauglor yells as he brings his hatchling over and sits her on the floor, his voice echoing with pride and joy that fills the chamber.
Balor moves close, and I reach up and pull the tail away from his body, examining the anatomy with practiced eyes. Near the slit, I see the telltale pelvic spurs are there, the small bumps that mark gender in our kind. “You have a son, Balor.” I look up into his eyes, and he nods, and I see the tears gathering there, threatening to spill over with overwhelming emotion.
“I have a son.” his voice is shaky as he takes a seat by us, the words carrying the weight of his dreams fulfilled.
Klauth’s child walks over to him and climbs into his lap, laying down and purring softly, the sound like a cat’s contentment but deeper, more resonant. I scoot closer and lift the hind leg of the hatchling and take a look, checking for the same markers. It has pelvic spurs, and I smile with satisfaction. “Klauth, you have a son.”
Two daughters and two sons in this clutch—perfect balance and harmony. My mini-me wobbles over and climbs into my lap, laying down with a contented sigh that mirrors my own. I stare down at her and feel like my heart is about to explode with happiness, an emotion so intense it threatens to overwhelm me completely.
Callan and Leander come to sit close to me, their presence warm and comforting, while Ziggy shifts and plays with his two children, laughter and gentle growls filling the air. Vaughn has a tray of chicken wings in his hands. The smell of cooked meat making my stomach growl despite the emotional intensity of the moment.
“Welcome, little ones!” Vaughn says as he comes to sit on the floor, setting the tray in front of him with a flourish. All of the hatchlings dive for the tray, scarfing down the food as fast as possible, their small jaws working with impressive efficiency. The sounds of eating—crunching bones and satisfied chirps—fill the chamber with domestic contentment. The only one not diving in is Balor’s child, who turns and looks up at his father with intelligent eyes that already show basilisk cunning.
“Ziggy, mind bringing us down to the ground level? I need to take my son hunting,” Balor says as he reaches down and scoops up his son, cradling the serpentine form with practiced ease.
“Of course. Or would you rather I hunt for him? Bring him back a rabbit?” Ziggy offers as he stands up and walks over, always ready to help our family.
Balor smiles and shakes his head, pride evident in every line of his face. “I’ll take him hunting. We prefer live food when we’re little.” He bends down and kisses my temple, his lips warm against my skin, and smiles with a contentment that radiates from his entire being. “I’ll be back, my love.”
Ziggy phases Balor and his son downstairs to hunt, their forms shimmering and disappearing like mirages. I know it’s important for his son to learn, but I wanted to snuggle with my babies first, maternal instincts warring with practical necessity.
When all the hatchlings have eaten their fill, small bellies round with satisfaction, I direct them into the nest in the egg chamber, herding them gently with soft sounds and gentle nudges.
To my surprise, Thauglor and Klauth sit on the edge of the nest watching the six babies curl up together, their ancient eyes soft with wonder and love. Interestingly enough, the three newest dragon hatchlings are as large as Lily is now, despite being newly hatched. They are the size of six-month-old hatchlings, their accelerated development both impressive and slightly concerning.
Abraxis gives me the look that says he sees what I’m seeing, his intelligent eyes taking in the size difference with the same curiosity that’s gnawing at me. It makes me wonder exactly how much bigger than Lily they will be, and what that rapid growth might mean for our expanding family.
CHAPTER 52
