Page 32 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy #2)
Abraxis
The student I hauled off earlier sang like a bird in a cage when I drove him to his knees before Lysander.
His trembling voice echoed in the stark office, mixing with the faint scratch of Lysander’s pen against the paper.
Yet something nags at me—the headmaster was far too calm, his measured tone, and unflinching gaze far removed from last year’s fury.
Mina’s theory that her father and Lysander might be working together isn’t as far-fetched as I’d hoped.
Dragging the student out of Lysander’s office, I can feel the weight of his fear in the way his knees falter against the marble floors. His scent—sour and sharp like spoiled milk—clings to the air, making my nose wrinkle. I shove him toward Ziggy, who’s waiting just outside.
“Is Mina okay?” Ziggy asks as he grips the student by the scruff, his green eyes flicking to me.
“As okay as expected, all things considered.” My gaze drops to the student, noting the sheen of sweat glistening on his temple, his wide, panicked eyes darting between us. “We’ll talk more when you get home later.”
Ziggy nods, his expression tightening with understanding, and phases out, taking the student with him. A faint crackle of displaced air lingers where they stood, and I let out a slow breath. I know my father will handle him, and the boy will wish he’d never been born by the time it’s over.
As I turn back down the hall, the faint musk of aged wood and parchment filters through the air.
My footsteps echo against the cold stone, the cadence steady but weighted.
The thought of Mina lingers in my mind, as it always does.
My parents’ love for her still shocks me, given the hostilities between our nests for generations.
I was ready to hate her, to make her suffer for the rest of her existence—until she hatched.
The memory is vivid. Her pale gold eyes caught mine, luminous and molten, and the world tilted on its axis. The vicious, twisted thoughts I’d nurtured for so long unraveled in an instant, leaving me breathless and raw.
I follow the worn path through the woods, the scent of pine and damp earth rising with each step.
Mina’s last class is nearby, and I stay just within the shadowed tree line, the cool breeze rustling the leaves above.
Leander is handling my Siege Weapon class today so I could deal with the student.
From here, I can hear the faint hum of voices, punctuated by laughter and the clatter of the machinery.
Mina is everything I could have hoped for in a mate—intelligent, strong-willed, deadly with anything you place in her hands.
Yet beneath it all, there’s the damage her father inflicted.
The campus therapist told us she’s touch-starved, a wound that still lingers despite the bond she shares with us.
It’s why she clings, why she presses against us like she’s trying to merge her being with ours.
It’s also why she’s upset she can’t touch her friends without the bond making them ill.
A laugh escapes me as I watch her from the shadows.
She’s animated, trying to convince Vaughn to climb onto the chair of the catapult I designed.
Her enthusiasm is infectious. Her cheeks flushed as she waves her arms emphatically.
Vaughn finally relents, grumbling as he strips off his shirt and shoes before climbing into the seat.
Mina squeals, her delight ringing through the clearing, and throws the handle.
The catapult launches Vaughn into the air with a thunderous whoosh, the tension in the ropes snapping free.
His scream echoes as he arcs through the sky, sending Mina into fits of laughter.
Before he crashes, he shifts midair, his stone-like wings catching the sunlight as he glides back to her.
Her laughter carries on the wind, bright and untamed, and I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. She’s more than I deserve. More than I ever dreamed of.
I watch Mina launch Vaughn several more times before stepping out from the shadowy tree line.
The sharp crack of the catapult echoes through the clearing, followed by Vaughn’s exhilarated whoop as he soars through the air.
Mina’s laughter rings out, clear and bright, cutting through the brisk afternoon chill.
Her joy, radiant and unrestrained, warms something deep in my chest. It’s moments like this that make all the sleepless nights and grueling work worth it.
Keeping her safe is a burden I’ll carry gladly—no, fiercely.
“How did it go?” Leander’s voice pulls my attention. He steps up beside me, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, the faint scent of pine and earth clinging to him .
“Dad has him,” I reply, my gaze lingering on Mina as she brushes a strand of hair from her flushed face.
The vibrant reds and golds of the setting sun catch in her emerald and silver locks, making her glow.
“We’ll know more this weekend. Dad and Mom have offered to help us dig Mina’s nest in the mountains.
Four dragons switching out in shifts is better than two.
” My hand moves to my head, fingers catching in the unruly strands of my hair as I try to untangle them from the short horns protruding from my scalp.
“Callan and I already reviewed the plans your dad sent for where the chamber is compared to the rubble,” Leander says, his sharp russet eyes catching the fading light as he tilts his head.
“The three of us will search while the dragons dig. We may need to borrow one of you to move some of the rubble to make the search possible.” He motions to Vaughn, who lands heavily nearby, the ground vibrating under the impact.
A gust of air follows as his wings fold tightly to his back.
“He’s strong, but if it’s an entire wall, a dragon will be best.”
“Agreed,” I mutter, the crisp air carrying the faint tang of metal and machine oil from the students’ training area.
I glance toward the students, noting the creak of gears and the clatter of launched projectiles.
“Not following my lesson plans for today?” Arching a brow, I tilt my head, studying Leander.
“Given how upset Mina was, letting all the students have a free period to get used to working the machines was best,” he replies, his tone pragmatic but laced with weariness.
His breath fogs in the cool air as he sighs and turns to watch the class.
“I can’t show favoritism to our mate and paint a bigger target on her back. ”
Leander has a point. The faint hum of conversations drifts toward us as the students chatter while they practice, their movements brisk but less tense than usual.
Mina needed this—space to laugh, to feel light again after what happened in Callan’s class.
The decision to let everyone mess with the weapons was a compromise, one that seems to have struck the right balance.
I cross my arms, my talons scraping lightly against the leather of my gauntlets, and watch Mina beam as Vaughn claps her on the back. A brief smile tugs at my lips. She deserves every stolen moment of happiness.
Class concludes, and the air still hums faintly with the metallic tang of machinery and the low buzz of students’ fading conversations.
Mina lingers near the large contraption she and Vaughn had been operating, her voice soft but laced with curiosity as she probes him about the machine’s intricacies.
The faint scent of heated oil and scorched metal clings to the surrounding space, mingling with the musk of sweat from a long day of training.
I stroll up casually, boots crunching against gravel, my steps deliberately unhurried.
I stand several feet behind her, folding my arms and waiting for her to notice me.
Vaughn’s sharp eyes flick upward, meeting mine.
The moment stretches, tense but polite, before he dips his head slightly and shifts back, pulling on his shirt in one fluid motion.
The faint scent of cedar and earth wafts from his clothes as he breaks the silence.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” he asks, his voice carrying a faint rasp as he glances between Mina and me.
“I don’t know.” Mina answers before I can respond, her tone thoughtful, almost absent. “I want to go look at the ruins. ”
“I can go with you?” I offer. The words are barely out of my mouth when she startles, spinning to face me. Her breath catches, and her pale gold eyes light up, a flicker of her dragon gleaming in their depths. She’s radiant, despite the shadows etched beneath her eyes.
Before I can react, she’s in my arms, the faint floral scent of her hair enveloping me as she hugs me tightly. Her warmth seeps into my chest, grounding me.
“That would be great,” she says, her voice lighter, though her gaze darts briefly to the egg carrier. She hesitates, scanning the area. The tension in her shoulders is palpable. Only Vaughn lingers nearby, his imposing frame a silent reassurance.
“I’ll fly. You and the eggs can hitch a ride for once,” I offer, leaning down to press my lips to her forehead. Her skin is warm against mine, the soft contact a balm to the unease radiating from her. She exhales, the sound a blend of relief and weariness.
“That would be wonderful … and weird,” she says, a faint laugh escaping her. Her fingers curl around mine as she leads me toward the open field beyond the siege weapons. The scent of trampled grass and cool earth rising with each step.
“Why weird?” I ask, tilting my head as I shrug off my armor. The leather creaks as I bundle it together with the sword, binding it tightly with practiced ease.
“I can fly. I have my own dragon and wings that can carry me to the ruins.” Her hands rest protectively on the eggs, the light catching the delicate shimmer of the carrier. “With everything going on, I worry about them being stolen from me.” The faint hitch in her voice is a dagger to my chest .
Her sigh nearly breaks me. I can see it—the weight she carries, the fierce love that makes her guard those eggs as though they’re already ours.
I step closer, my voice low and steady. “I understand that. It’s why I offered to carry the three of you.
I want you to feel happy and safe. It’s my honor and duty to give that to you.
” I press my lips to her forehead again, lingering as her tension dissolves under my touch.
“Thank you,” she whispers, tilting her head up to meet my gaze. I half expect her dragoness to surface, her pupils sharpening into slits. Instead, I’m met with the pale gold of her human eyes. They’re soft, vulnerable, and it stirs something deep in me.
“It’s why I love you so much. You only want what’s best for me—for us.” A soft laugh escapes her, airy and genuine.
I reach out, cupping her cheek, my thumb brushing over her smooth skin. “What made you laugh?” I ask, my smile matching hers as I look down at her.
“Dad told me how bad the feud was between our nests. Yet here we are.” Her eyes search mine, a mix of amusement and disbelief.
“Your parents are amazing—not the monsters my dad painted them as.” Her laugh is softer this time, tinged with something bittersweet.
“You have the parents I always wished for.” Her voice falters, her gaze dropping to the egg carrier.
I study her carefully. “Your mom seemed like a good person,” I say, my thumb tracing slow, soothing circles on her cheek.
“She … she said I reminded her of my father,” Mina says, her voice quieter now. She reaches into her pack, the rustle of fabric filling the pause, and pulls out a letter. “Here.” She hands it to me.
The paper feels rough in my hands, the ink slightly smudged, as though it had been gripped too tightly.
My eyes skim the words, the air around me growing heavy.
The truth unfolds in painful detail—the male she loved stolen from her, their bond severed.
Mina’s sister is that male’s daughter, not Abaddon’s.
The forced mating between Abaddon and Layla as their dragons.
My hands tremble as I finish the letter.
It all makes sense now—the fortress her dragoness has become, the weight she carries.
I can’t speak. Words fail me, so I do the only thing I can. I pull her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I can without breaking her. Her warmth seeps into me, and I vow silently that she’ll never endure something like this again.
“I need to tell the others,” I murmur into her hair, my voice thick with emotion. “And my parents.”
Mina just nods against my chest, her silence louder than any words she could have said. My poor mate. She deserves peace, and I’ll stop at nothing to give it to her.