Page 8 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
“Ready, Callan?” I lean around the side of the simulator to look at him, breathing in the scent of ozone from the machine.
“As ready as I’m going to be,” Callan says with a wince, his fingers drumming nervously on the console.
Balor steps forward and hits the start button. The scenario plays out on the big screen in front of the classroom. The tactile controls warm beneath my fingertips as I execute my strategy. Within three moves, I’ve destroyed Callan’s forces and wiped the map clean. Leaning back, I smile, the taste of victory sweet in my mouth.
“This is why I was the six-time reigning champion of both gauntlets and the purge.” I tilt my head, looking at both of my dragon mates. They smile back at me, proud of what I’ve done, their eyes glowing with that possessive heat that makes my skin tingle.
“Anyone want to analyze where I went wrong to get my butt handed to me so badly?” Callan offers, and I step away from the simulators, the soles of my boots silent against the stone floor.
Thauglor pulls me to him and rests my back against his chest, then rests his hands on my shoulders. His heartbeat thunders against my spine, steady and reassuring. The heat from his body seeps through my clothes, and his scent—smoke and spice and something uniquely him—envelops me. Knowing I have him at my back and Klauth within reaching distance, I relax instantly, my muscles uncoiling like a spring finally released.
CHAPTER 5
Thauglor
The first weekas the headmaster of the war college is coming to a close, and I already want to torch all of it. The scent of parchment and ink surrounds me as papers pile higher on my desk. Between the whining from some of the first years and the endless complaints, my patience wears thinner by the hour. The parents of some of the new students are already complaining about the injuries from the gauntlet. Their shrill voices still echoing in my mind from this morning’s calls.
Shaking my head, I lean back in my chair and run my hand down my face, feeling the rough stubble against my palm. The leather of the chair creaks under my weight as I shift. Shadowcarve’s gauntlet is later today, and I want to pull my hair out. The tension builds at the base of my skull, a persistent throb. Mina wants to help and take Balor’s place at the start of the gauntlet. This is the first time in the college's history that not only is a royal in Shadowcarve, but she’s the last fourth year standing. The thought of her facing the gauntlet again sends a mixture of pride and concern coursing through my veins.
I hear my mate’s name announced over the loudspeaker, and I want to cringe. The metallic echo reverberates through the stone walls of my office. She’s going to be so mad. Looking down, I have a list of several species that I can put as the live threat in the gauntlet. The paper feels rough under my fingertips as I trace the options. I have it narrowed down to three species. Giant scorpions sound fun; they can inflict massive damage with their razor-sharp pincers and venomous tails. A doppelgänger could bring an unknown element to the gauntlet, especially if they decide to mimic someone powerful like my mate. The last option is a single banshee. It’s something we haven’t seen here in three forevers. The thought of its piercing wail makes even my skin prickle.
The door opens with a soft creak, and my mate walks in with Balor on her arm. The scent of her—wild herbs and ozone—fills the room instantly, clearing my head. He winks at me and kisses Mina goodbye before leaving; the door clicking shut behind him. The sudden quiet is punctuated only by the sound of her breathing and my own.
“Having a good day?” I tilt my head, looking from the paper before me, then back to her. Her eyes catch the light streaming through the window, turning them to liquid amber.
“So far, so good.” She tilts her head, looking at me, and I feel like I’m transparent, as if she can see every thought racing through my mind. Her gaze peels away at my defenses, layer by layer. Mina stands and walks over, the soft rustle of her leathers filling the silence. She sits on my lap, the warmth of her body seeping through my clothes as she looks at the papers on the desk. Her weight is comforting, grounding me in the present. “Giant scorpions look pretty cool. The other ones are kinda blah.” She kisses my cheek, her lips soft against my skin, and wraps her arms around my neck. The subtle scent of her hair envelops me as I breathe her in, my tension melting away under her touch.
I know she’s going to push to help with the gauntlet. “My love.” Mina purrs softly as she nuzzles my jaw.
“Yes, my precious one.” I kiss her temple, curious to see where she is going with this.
“Can I help Balor and Abraxis with the Shadowcarve gauntlet?” She tilts her head, looking deep into my eyes.
“I would honestly prefer not my beloved.” I search her face, watching for a reaction.
Mina’s hands slide over my chest and digs her braid out from the inside pocket of my jacket. “It’s only a preference?” She unties the braid and then reaches into my hair and braids her hair in with mine. This is a moment I have dreamt about since I first learned about mates as a young male. When she finishes, she pulls the braid forward and ties off the end.
“Thank you, my treasure.” Soon as the word treasure leaves my lips, tears fill her eyes. She knows what it means to be called a treasure. To be a dragon’s treasure is to be held as the most valuable, the most important being in that dragon’s world. I press my lips to hers and purr deeply to help soothe her. It’s moments like this I want to bathe her father in my acid and watch his flesh melt off his bones for what he did to my mate.
“I’ll help keep records of the names off to the side,” Mina says softly before kissing me back. She removed herself from the danger zone without me asking again.
“That would be very helpful. You can stay with Leander and Zigmander. I’ll have food brought to you.” Smiling, I kiss her again.
The soundsof the gauntlet running echo between Shadowcarve and Ranathor Keep. Harsh clacks, dull bangs, and piercing screams of agony reverberate through the crisp autumn air as the afternoon progresses. Mina sits beneath her favorite oak tree—its ancient branches providing dappled shade against the waning sunlight—keeping the tally as she promised. Her slender fingers move methodically across the page, the scratch of her pen against paper barely audible above the distant clamor.
I close the distance between us, inhaling her familiar scent of wildflowers and ozone before pressing my lips against her cool cheek. It’s only now that I notice she’s wearing her diadem, the polished silver gleaming against her silver horns. She’s abandoned her usual leathers for something unexpected—a dress that screams Klauth with its deep crimson hue, the exact shade of freshly spilled blood.
“How are we doing?” My voice emerges as a low rumble that I feel more than hear.
Mina finishes what she’s writing, her pen making one final decisive stroke before she looks up at me through thick lashes. “The first year's numbers are down by half.” She flips to the next page with practiced grace, and I glimpse the meticulous list of student names, each year grouped together with a status column beside them. “Second years fared better, only a twenty percent loss. Third years haven’t begun their runs yet.” Her lips curve upward as she meets my gaze, one perfectly arched eyebrow rising in subtle pride. “The fourth year class is still at one hundred percent.” A soft chuckle escapes her lips as she closes her leather-bound book.
“I would love to keep the fourth year class at a hundred percent indefinitely.” My attention catches on the silver horns crowning her head, the way they capture and reflect the fading sunlight. The three rings closest to her skull are the thickest bands, evidence that these last three years she’s eaten better than the rest of her life. Yet another reason I want to melt Abaddon into a massive puddle ofgoo and set it aflame, watching his essence evaporate into nothingness.
“Where did you go just now?” Mina stands, her dress whispering against the grass as she hands off the notepad to Leander.
“Just admiring your horns. They are exquisite.” I force a smile, trying to mask the rage simmering beneath my skin.
“You were studying the growth rings.” She shakes her head. Emerald and silver waves bounce against her shoulders before she motions for me to move away from the crowd. When we’re far enough away—the scent of earth and wildflowers replacing that of sweat and fear. Mina sighs, a sound that carries the weight of years. “You see the same things I did the other day. I was barely fed and cared for. My nest and, dare I say, this school has taken better care of me than my family ever did.” Her voice drops to a whisper that only my sensitive hearing could catch.
