Page 1 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy #2)

Mina

The guys have decided I should test out of the regular academy courses for my safety.

A “brilliant idea,” they called it. The only problem?

The second-year instructors have to agree.

Most of them were fine with it—except Kai and Finlay, which means I’m stuck with science and royal protocol.

Not surprising, really. I’d refused to give up my art class, though.

It’s the one place I can breathe, the only time I can relax and just enjoy something without the weight of everything pressing down on me.

“Mina, perfect score on both the math and literature tests, so you’re free of those,” Callan announces, placing the returned graded tests on the table in front of me. He looks proud, like it’s his victory, too.

Abraxis strides in right after, dropping a stack of sealed envelopes onto the table. “You passed politics, but Finlay and Kai still refuse to let you test out. Lysander and I went to talk to them ourselves.” He exhales sharply, frustration clear as he steps aside.

The door opens again, and the headmaster walks into our new, larger suite at Malivore. His presence is commanding, as always.

“I’ve created a class specifically for you,” Lysander says, leaning against the back of the couch. “It’s structured to let us study and research the cursed eggs without drawing suspicion.”

I glance at him, tilting my head. “How does that work with the rest of the schedule?”

“We needed to fill the morning hours,” Callan explains, coming closer, “so that Abraxis and I can teach our first- and fourth-year classes without overlapping with you. This way, everything fits.”

“What about Vaughn?” My eyes flick to my third mate, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet. He’s leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed, his gaze sweeping over the room like he’s piecing together a puzzle.

“I don’t want to test out of the classes,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. His tone is gentle, but there’s a weight to his words. “I actually need them. I’ll be in my uncle’s art class with you, and I’ll take Art of War with Callan.”

His honesty makes me smile faintly. Vaughn’s always been different, steady in a way the others aren’t.

While they’re plotting and maneuvering, he grounds us, the one thread that keeps everything from unraveling.

I glance at the others, each of them a mix of pride, frustration, and determination, and for a brief moment, the chaos doesn’t feel so overwhelming.

“When’s the gauntlet?” I ask, the words cutting through the hum of tension in the room. The second-year gauntlet is infamous—brutal, unrelenting, designed to cull the weak from the academy. Harder than the first year’s trial. It doesn’t just test us—it breaks us.

“Tomorrow,” Abraxis answers, his gaze drifting past me to the balcony over my left shoulder.

His jaw tightens, and I know that look in his eyes too well.

He’s already plotting, probably fantasizing about whisking me away from campus to some place he deems safe.

Someplace far from the dangers that are closing in around us.

“Is shifting allowed?” I ask, turning to Lysander. My voice is steady, but I’m already bracing for his response.

“Partial is always allowed for this gauntlet,” he replies calmly, his tone steady.

I manage a small smile in his direction before letting my gaze slide to Callan. “When’s your gauntlet?” I ask him, watching as a flicker of discomfort crosses his face. His shoulders stiffen, and I can almost feel the weight of his dread.

“Wait, I have to run the gauntlet again for Shadowcarve?” Vaughn’s voice cuts in as he steps closer to us, his expression sharp with surprise.

“The day after the first,” Callan says, his voice calm but clipped. “And yes, you have to run it again. Partial shifting allowed. It’s why we told you to wait until this year to do it.”

“Great,” Vaughn mutters before collapsing onto the couch, throwing an arm over his face like it’s the only way to block out the impending nightmare.

I smirk faintly, leaning back against the wall. “The gauntlets here are way easier than the one my father made me run. You all got to see it.” A soft laugh escapes my lips as I adjust the egg carrier on my chest. The soft hum of Klauth’s egg settling something in me.

The silence that follows my words feels heavy.

My father’s gauntlet wasn’t just a test; it was a death sentence with a pulse.

If Hell had a blueprint, it was his creation, designed to break even the strongest. Compared to that, this academy’s trials might as well be a leisurely stroll through a garden.

“That’s a terrifying thought,” Abraxis murmurs, his voice low, laced with something close to awe. He steps forward, closing the distance between us, and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. For a moment, the world feels quiet, though the storm still looms just beyond.

I melt into Abraxis’s hold, letting his warmth seep into me as I close my eyes.

His scent fills my senses—smoke, earth, and something uniquely him.

Slowly, I press the bridge of my nose against the underside of his jaw, seeking solace in his presence.

Without a word, he wraps me in his wings, cocooning me from the world.

He always knows when the weight of everything is about to crush me.

“Early bedtime for Vaughn and Mina,” Abraxis rumbles, his deep voice vibrating through his chest. “They need to be well-rested for the gauntlet tomorrow.”

“They need to eat good tonight too,” Balor chimes in. His voice pulls my attention, and I peek out from between Abraxis’s wings.

“Are you cooking, B?” I arch a brow at him, letting a small pout play on my lips.

He leans casually against the counter, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sure, what do you want?”

I pretend to think for a moment before sighing, settling back against Abraxis’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding me. “Ribs? Or chicken? Or both—whichever is easier for you.”

“I’ll surprise you,” Balor says, and I hear him rummage in the kitchen. The clink of pans and soft thud of cabinets opening fills the space, a soothing rhythm of its own .

Abraxis tightens his hold on me slightly, his wings flexing to shield me even further. I close my eyes again, letting the steady beat of his heart and the murmured sounds of home anchor me in this fleeting moment of peace.

Later that night…

“I’m not tired,” I say, crossing my arms under my chest as I lean against the sink. The silence in the room feels heavy as everyone stares at me, waiting for something I’m not ready to give.

“Do you need to go for a flight?” Vaughn asks, his voice low but steady.

“You can’t keep up,” I whisper, avoiding his eyes. Avoiding Callan’s too. They don’t need to see the ache hiding in my chest.

Callan doesn’t give me the luxury of avoidance.

His fingers grip my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“Neither of us can keep up with you, and we know it. But Abraxis can. And if he has to, he will. The rest of us?” His lips curl into a mischievous grin.

“We can always hitch a ride on one of your dragons. Maybe race?” I narrow my eyes at him.

That glint in his gaze? Trouble. Always trouble.

“Oh, this I have to hear,” Leander says, dragging his stool closer with a scraping sound that sets my teeth on edge.

Callan smirks. “Alright, so here’s the deal. One of us rides with you, the other rides with Abraxis. Whoever wins the race gets to share your bed tonight. ”

“You do realize,” I say, arching an eyebrow, “that if Abraxis wins, there will be two of you in my bed at once.” My eyes dart to Vaughn. His expression shifts from curious to alarmed as his eyebrows shoot up.

“He hasn’t shared a bed with me or either of you yet,” I add quickly, realizing how that sounded. Behind me, Vaughn chokes on his drink, sputtering as Balor slaps his back, trying not to laugh.

“You misunderstand,” I say, raising my hands in a placating manner. “They don’t sleep together. Only with me.”

Vaughn coughs again, finally recovering. “Oh, okay. I was gonna say … I’m not down with that.”

“Ziggy, you and Balor figure out who’s with who,” I say, waving them off. “Abraxis and I will go shift and wait.”

I don’t stick around for the deliberation. Instead, I retreat to my room, placing the egg carrier carefully on the pillows. Iris, my faerie dragon familiar, flutters down, curling protectively over the egg.

“Stay here,” I murmur to her, brushing a hand over her iridescent scales. By the time I have her settled, Abraxis is waiting at the door, tall and imposing as ever, his dark eyes flickering with something I can’t quite place.

“I’m sorry I’m not a good sleeper,” I say as we walk hand in hand through the dimly lit corridors.

He squeezes my hand gently, his voice soft and full of weight. “You don’t need to apologize, Mina. We all have our ways of coping. Yours just involves the sky.”

A ghost of a smile touches my lips, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “The sky doesn’t ask questions.” The visions are always worse when I sleep, so in a sense I am trying to avoid sleeping.

“And I won’t either,” he says, his grip tightening briefly. The quiet promise in his words pulls something loose in my chest, but I keep walking, the cool night air ahead calling to me.

We make our way out to the flight field, the air crisp with the promise of freedom.

My scales on the back of my neck prickle in anticipation as I feel the shift coming.

My bones lengthen, reshape, and in a burst of magic and power, I’m in my true form.

Stretching my wings, I relish the sensation, muscles burning in the best way as I extend them fully.

I raise and lower my frill, the sharp edges catching the light, then stretch each wing one at a time, feeling the satisfying pop of tension releasing.

The guys follow behind us, their boots crunching on the dirt.

Callan veers toward Abraxis, the two of them already exchanging sharp words laced with their usual competitive edge.

Vaughn approaches me instead, his expression calm, though I catch the flicker of a smirk as he looks up at my towering form.

I lower myself to the ground and stretch a wing out, creating a smooth incline for him.

“Climb on,” I rumble, a low vibration in my chest, knowing full well he can’t understand my dragon.

He hesitates for just a second, then starts his ascent.

I use my maw carefully to steady him as he steps along the curve of my wing bone, the weight of him oddly grounding.

“Where do you want me to sit, Mina?” he calls out, his voice carrying over the rustling wind. I twist my neck to look at him, raising a talon to point at the ridge between my horns, just in front of my frill.

Each step he takes up my spine sends a ripple of unease through me, my instincts prickling at the vulnerability of it.

I lower my frill to give him something to hold on to as he moves.

When he finally reaches the ridge, he pats the scales in front of him.

“All good!” he yells, his voice steady, and I can’t help the faint sense of pride that he trusts me enough to be this close.

Balor’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and commanding.

“Rules are simple. Fly from here at Malivore, across campus to Shadowcarve, then down to the Temple of Bahamut and back. Ziggy’s at one location; Leander’s at the other.

First one back wins.” His gaze locks on Abraxis and me, the fire in his eyes daring us to let this be anything but a fight to the finish. “When I drop the torch, you go.”

I glance at Abraxis, his wings already twitching with anticipation, and he lets out a low growl.

Everything with him is a competition, and this won’t be any different.

The torch drops, and I don’t wait. I launch into the sky, wings beating furiously, my frill flaring as I cut through the air.

The wind roars past me, and I push harder, determined to get far enough ahead before Abraxis tries to pull one of his usual tricks.

There’s one thing I’ve figured out that I haven’t told the guys: if I lower my frill, it increases my aerodynamics and reduces drag. It’s my little secret, and right now, it’s going to win me this race.

As Shadowcarve comes into view, I push harder, gaining altitude until I’m high in the clouds.

Abraxis is still a good distance behind me, but I want to widen that gap even more.

I bank sharply, muscles coiling and releasing as I turn after passing Shadowcarve.

A victorious roar escapes my throat as I spot Leander waving his flag below.

I surge past him, staying higher than necessary to prepare for what’s ahead.

The next stretch of the course sweeps over the ocean—a challenge and an opportunity.

There are no thermals over water, no upward drafts to rely on.

This is where I’ll lower my frill and dive.

I glance to the right, catching a fleeting view of Velorian Hall, and then to the left, where the ancient castle ruins stand weathered and haunting.

Ahead, the Temple of Bahamut looms, its spires reaching for the heavens.

I let out another roar, exhilaration crackling in my chest, and let a streak of lightning ripple from my maw. It arcs brilliantly over the temple before I pull up, banking sharply to begin my return toward Shadowcarve.

Now is the moment. I lower my frill and dive sharply toward the water.

The air around me screams as I cut through it, the surface of the ocean, a dark mirror rushing closer.

The faster I go, the more thrilling the burn of the wind against my scales becomes.

Vaughn shifts on my back, his gargoyle form gripping onto me with talons as sharp as daggers.

I can feel the tension in him, sense that my sharp dive would’ve sent his human form flying.

The torches come into view, their flickering light marking the edges of the flight field. Balor, Leander, and Ziggy stand at attention, their eyes on me as I close in on the finish. A triumphant wave surges through me. I’ve beaten Abraxis. Beaten my mate.

I land with calculated precision, the impact reverberating through my body as I tuck my wings and prance lightly toward the field. The moment feels electric, and I relish it as I lower myself to the ground, allowing Vaughn to slide off my back.

“You were moving so fast it was terrifying,” Vaughn says, his voice breathless as I shift back into my human form.

I can’t help but smirk, brushing strands of hair out of my face. “Terrifying, huh? I think it was exhilarating.”