Page 10 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
I stand here alone, looking at the gauntlet, its wooden structure now silhouetted against the purple-black sky. The cooling air carries the metallic scent of blood and the distant murmur of retreating students. My thoughts circle through everything that’s happening this year. The council’s visit, the hunt for Abaddon, Mina’s growth. I can only hope my mate finds peace this year. The weight of the scorpion stinger in my hand serves as a tangible reminder of her strength. If I have anything to say about it, her peace will happen sooner rather than later. My wings extend slightly, stretching in anticipation of the hunt to come, as darkness finally claims the training grounds.
CHAPTER 6
Mina
I HAVE PLANS...
Besides preparing for the elders’arrival, I know exactly when my next heat will hit. If my calculations are correct, it will strike about three days before winter break. Three months—that’s all I have to get everything in order. My real eggs, the ones I’ll lay when the time comes. I want to hide in the hidden cavern. The temperature there mirrors the egg chamber almost perfectly. If Callan sits on the eggs while they’re nestled in that secret space, they should, in theory, maintain the proper temperature.
In the war room on the lower level of my nest, I stand before the diorama of our combined territories. The scent of aged parchment and clay fills my nostrils as I lean closer, my fingers tracing the miniature landscape. I locate a space similar to where I dug my nest, positioned dead center between what will become known as the Sovereign Nest and Blackhaven. The pin makes a satisfying click as I press it into the location, the metal cool against my fingertip. With methodical precision, I measure the distance, making absolutely certain it sits perfectly in the middle.
“Mate?” Abraxis slips in, the heavy door closing behind him with a deep resonant thud. The scent of him—leather, pine, and that distinct musk that is uniquely his—fills the room instantly.
I turn toward him, my eyes drawn to his left wing, which still doesn’t stand as perfectly as his right. The membrane catches the light differently, the subtle variance in color revealing the old injury. “Hey baby...” I cross the distance between us in quick strides and dive into his arms. A deep, happy purr escapes my lips as I nuzzle him under his jaw, feeling the rough stubble against my cheek and inhaling his intoxicating scent.
“Someone’s happy to see me.” He kisses my forehead, his lips warm against my skin. I can feel him smile, the muscles in his face shifting against me.
“Where’s the braid I gave you?” I trail kisses along his jaw all the way to his throat where my mate mark rests. The raised skin is slightly warmer than the surrounding area, pulsing with our connection.
I hear and feel the moment he draws in a deep breath. His chest expanding against mine as his hand slips down and into his front pocket. The fabric rustles softly as he pulls out a small leather pouch, worn smooth from constant handling, and offers it to me. When I pull my braid out, it’s knotted and honestly a mess, the once sleek strands now tangled. I reach up into my hair, the silky strands sliding between my fingers as I locate a fresh section to cut. The subtle snick of the small blade against my hair resonates in the quiet room.
His eyes widen, pupils dilating as he watches me gifting him a second section, understanding the significance of the gesture. Slowly, I pass my hand between us, directing him to the chair. Abraxis moves so fast it’s almost comical, the wooden stool creaking under his sudden weight. When he sits, he’s practically vibrating with excitement, his wings quivering slightly, sending small currents of air across my skin.
I reach into his hair, the strands coarser than mine, and pull out a section, using some thread to anchor my hair in his before I start braiding. The repetitive motion is soothing, and the soft sound of hair sliding against hair fills the intimate space between us. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my first clutch.” My voice is almost a whisper as he pulls me down onto his lap. His thighs are firm beneath me, radiating heat through the thin fabric of my dress.
“And?” I feel his body shudder under me, the vibration traveling through my form. He’s a ball of anxious energy and tension, his heart pounding so hard I can feel it against my back.
“I want you to father one of the first eggs.” I can feel the exact moment that Abraxis stops breathing, his chest stilling against my hand. The scent of his excitement spikes in the air, sharp and sweet like fresh pine sap. Slowly his head turns, and I watch as his eyes well up with tears, the moisture catching the dim light of the war room.
“Are you sure, Mina?” His hands come up to frame my face. Slightly calloused palms warm against my cheeks as he searches my eyes, his gaze intense enough to burn.
“I’m sure. I know who else I want too.” A laugh escapes my lips, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. “Klauth and Thauglor said that dragonesses back in the day chose the fathers for their clutches. Hunted them down and...” I leave the rest hanging, watching his mind fill in the blanks, enjoying how his pupils dilate further, nearly eclipsing the iris.
“As our dragons?” His eyes shift, becoming more reptilian as he stares at me, the transformation subtle but unmistakable.
“Our progeny would be strongest that way. Maybe not this clutch. But eventually.” I tie off his braid, the thread making a soft snapping sound as I pull it tight, and rest it over his shoulder where he can pull it forward to examine it. The woven strands of our hairtogether—his midnight black interwoven with my silver green—create a striking contrast that symbolizes our union.
“The ancients can’t...” His eyes widen, looking at me, and I gasp, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.
“Definitely not this clutch. In another five or so years, yeah.” I shrug my shoulders a little, the fabric of my dress sliding against my skin. It’s not like it hasn’t been a thought crossing my mind frequently of late. The possibility is both terrifying and exhilarating. I slide off of Abraxis’s lap. Losing his body heat immediate and regrettable, and walk over to the diorama, my feet making soft padding sounds against the stone floor. I motion to the flag marking the location of the false nest. “Want to help me dig the dummy nest?”
He rises and crosses over to me, his wings creating subtle air currents that I feel against my exposed skin. His lips press against my shoulder, warm and soft, as he takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. “I would be honored.” We get to the door and find Thauglor and Klauth standing there with Callan.
“What are you two up to?” Callan arches the brow above his empty eye socket, knowing how much it unnerves Abraxis. The scarred tissue around the hollow catches the light strangely, giving his face an asymmetrical shadow that emphasizes the darkness where an eye should be.
“I’m going to dig my fake nest.” A sly smile creeps across my lips as I glance from ancient to ancient, then over to Callan. I feel the excitement building in my chest, my heart rate speeding up with anticipation.
“I’m going to sit this out. I was actually coming to tell you that Thauglor, Leander, and I are going to the academy. Apparently, Klauth is planning on having a holiday celebration where we wear costumes and get to look for satchels of candy hidden all over campus. Several are going to have medallions in them for an excused day off or aplace on the student council.” Callan’s voice carries an unusual lilt of excitement, a rare break from his usual stoicism.
“We don’t have a student council.” Abraxis flexes his wings beside me, the leathery membranes creaking softly as they extend and contract. The subtle movement creates a gentle breeze that carries his scent to me again.
“We will. This will be the start of it. Ideally, we will have a representative from each species. That way, everyone is represented fairly.” Thauglor says before flexing his own wings, the much larger appendages creating a more substantial gust that ruffles my hair. It must be a black dragon thing, this constant need to flex and display.
“That sounds incredible.” I step forward to kiss each of my mates who are leaving, their unique scents mingling as I move from one to the next.
“Starting next year, females are no longer required to run the gauntlet unless they are enrolled in Shadowcarve,” Thauglor adds, his deep voice resonating in the confined space of the doorway.
“We have lost a lot of females in the last four years.” Callan’s voice drops to a grim tone, his single eye darkening with memories we all share.
