Page 45 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy #2)

Vaughn

I feel a slight jolt of unease when I realize Mina isn’t in our second-period class—and then she doesn’t show up to Royal Protocol either.

Missing two back-to-back classes isn’t like her at all.

My stomach tightens with a vague sense of foreboding as I head across the dimly lit courtyard, the old stone walls of Shadowcarve looming over me.

The scent of damp earth and worn leather equipment drifts in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang from the weapons training grounds.

By the time I reach the challenge ring, a throng of students have already gathered.

I slip between them, my heart thumping a little faster when I catch sight of moving silhouettes inside the ring.

There’s a murmured excitement rippling through the crowd.

I shift into my gargoyle form without hesitation, feeling the faint, familiar pressure as my skin hardens into a stone-like texture and my wings unfurl with a rustle.

A jolt of power rushes through my limbs—muscles growing dense and heavy—while my claws scrape against the aged stone beneath my feet .

I leap into the air, powerful wings beating with a low whoosh, and land on a high ledge overlooking the ring.

The vantage point reveals Mina in the center, dual-wielding her short swords.

The glow of the overhead lights flickers across her blade edges, and I catch the glint of sweat on her temple.

She moves so fast she’s a blur, the clash of steel on steel echoing off the walls.

I grip the ledge a little tighter, feeling the gritty texture against my stone-like palms. The dizziness of trying to follow her lightning strikes makes my head spin.

Spotting Abraxis down near the ground level, I glide down and land beside him.

Dust swirls around my feet as I fold my wings.

“What happened?” I motion toward Mina and Callan, who is now desperately trying to counter her blinding attacks.

She disarms him within seconds, sending his sword clattering onto the packed dirt floor.

Abraxis exhales slowly, his expression grim. “Her nightmares have been getting worse. That’s why she’s been staying with Leander most nights. His shift keeps her nightmares at bay.”

I tilt my head, feeling my gargoyle features shift slightly at the movement. “It’s something his shift can do?” I watch Mina step off to the side, retrieving a hunk of bread and some water from Balor. She downs both like she’s starving, though she shows no sign of slowing.

Abraxis shrugs, the faintest rustle of leather from his jacket audible in the tense hush. “Nightmares can cause nightmares. Apparently, they can stop them, too.”

Glancing around, I notice a good dozen cadets sporting fresh bandages—clearly casualties of Mina’s morning spree. “How many matches has she had already?” I ask, a flutter of unease coiling in my gut.

“I lost count,” Abraxis admits. We both turn as Mina strides toward us, a triumphant smile curving her lips. There’s a wild gleam in her eyes, as though the fight’s only fueled her adrenaline.

“Okay,” she says, her voice vibrant with challenge, “warm-up is over. I need a stronger opponent.”

My jaw drops. A bead of sweat drips down my temple, and I’m not even the one sparring. “You’ve been fighting since first period, and that was just a warm-up?” I look around at Abraxis, Callan, even Balor, who seem equally stunned.

Mina lifts the cup Leander hands her and takes a gulp, the cold water visibly cooling her just for a moment.

“When I was in my father’s nest, we got up at four a.m. every day and ran the gauntlet nonstop four times.

” She tears off a chunk of the sandwich Callan passes her, chewing quickly before continuing.

“Then we spent an hour each on four to six different weapons, sparring with each for the hour until we could hardly stand.” She shrugs as though it’s nothing more than a mundane chore.

“After dinner, it was poisons and archery for another three hours, then finally bedtime.”

I swallow, my gaze darting to our other bond mates. Even in the thick gloom of Shadowcarve’s corridors, I can see the shock etched on their faces. “That was normal?” My voice comes out hoarse. The ring’s murmur hushes as more students catch snippets of the conversation.

Abraxis, however, looks unfazed. I narrow my gaze. “Why don’t you look surprised?”

He gives a faint smirk. “My father had me up at four a.m. too. We started with an hour in the weight room, then ran a few miles. After that, it was weapons drills, then boxing.” He sighs, his breath stirring the stale air that smells faintly of dust and sweat.

“After lunch, it started all over again—weight room, then more sparring.” His eyes flick to the ring.

“So, yeah, this is definitely a warm-up. ”

Mina steps forward, her grin wolfish. “Shall we spar again? You’re a tough opponent, Abraxis.”

He holds out his hand, and I can almost feel the magnetism crackling between them. “That would be wonderful, my love.”

They head back into the ring, swords raised. The sharp clang of metal on metal soon rings out again, echoing off the walls with each blow. A faint scent of ozone lingers in the air from the friction of steel, or perhaps just the dark tension swirling around us.

“They have a strange relationship,” Leander murmurs, leaning against the stone wall, the corners of his mouth twitching somewhere between worry and admiration.

I nod, letting my gargoyle form recede as I press my back to the cool stone. The rough surface scrapes lightly against my shoulders, reminding me how real this all is. “It works for them. As long as they’re happy and safe, that’s all that matters.”

I watch the two of them circling each other in the ring, my pulse echoing the rhythmic clang of their swords.

Despite the darkness and the twisted sense of normal here at Shadowcarve, there’s an odd comfort in seeing my bond mates throw themselves so fully into this moment—nightmares, old traumas, and all.

I run a hand over my jaw as I step into the common area, the air thick with the stale tang of sweat and sex.

It clings to my nostrils, an unmistakable testament of how hard Mina and Abraxis went at it after their match.

Dim light from the overhead fixtures casts elongated shadows across the room, revealing rumpled blankets on the couch and dislodged cushions strewn on the floor.

It’s clear evidence they probably fucked on every surface.

Mina and Abraxis lie entangled in the battered recliner, her long hair spilling over his shoulder while his wings wrap them both in a protective cocoon.

Ziggy and I exchange a glance. Neither of us comments out loud, but the reek of their combined heat is nearly suffocating.

My chest tightens with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

We both head for the small kitchenette just off the main room, fluorescent bulbs buzzing overhead.

I rifle through cupboards, the faint hum of the refrigerator blending with the steady drip of the faucet.

“What do you think about steaks and mixed veggies?” I ask, voice low to avoid waking the sleeping pair. The cold air from the open freezer seeps around my legs as Ziggy rummages through boxes of frozen produce.

He snorts quietly. “Don’t forget, we need to do a mostly vegetarian dish for Leander. Maybe eggplant parm with minimal cheese?” He lifts an eyebrow at me, the gleam of the overhead light catching on his piercings.

I run my fingertips across the countertop, feeling the gritty residue of who-knows-what.

“Maybe we’ll just do the steaks with eggplant on the side instead of the mixed veggies.

You know he hates it when we make a separate meal just for him.

” I glance at the ingredients, mentally mapping out how to juggle cooking times.

“Fine, I’ll make the eggplant. You make the steaks.

How long do you need for your part of dinner?

I need about forty-five minutes for mine.

” Ziggy sets a knife on the cutting board, the soft thud echoing in the otherwise still kitchen, then peels the eggplant.

The fresh, slightly bitter scent of the vegetable hits my nose, a relief from the heavy musk in the air .

“Fifteen minutes tops. Most of us like our steaks rare to extremely rare.” I tip my head toward Mina and Abraxis, curled up like a pair of predators after a successful hunt. “For them, I could probably toss raw steaks on a plate with a sprinkle of seasoning, and they’d be good to go.”

“Okay, good deal. I’ll let you know when it’s time to start the steaks,” Ziggy says.

He taps on his phone, and soon the upbeat thrum of pop music crackles through the speakers—an odd contrast to the lingering tension in the air.

As we settle into our tasks, the hiss of the pan and the chop of the knife fill the silence, layering over the steady sound of Mina’s and Abraxis’s quiet breathing.

My phone pings, the screen lighting up with every shrill notification. The vibration against my palm sends a cold prickle up my wrist. I swipe to silence it before reading:

Callan – Is everyone home?

Callan – We have a problem.

Callan – Damn it, someone answer me.

My heart thumps a little faster as I type a quick reply:

Vaughn – What’s wrong? Mina, Abraxis, and Ziggy are here with me.

Then, silence. My eyes flick up and land on Ziggy; he’s staring at his phone, brows drawn in concentration. The stove’s heat and the scent of frying eggplant wrap around us, but a sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere draws my attention .

Mina rises from Abraxis’s lap, and I catch the rustle of his leather wings—it’s a low, creaking sound like worn saddle leather stretching.

My gaze snaps back to Mina in time to see her eyes glowing, a brightness that sends a rush of unease through me.

She’s naked, and the temperature in the apartment seems to spike with her abrupt movement.

She leaps up and rushes off to her room, leaving Abraxis behind.

He stands, rolling his broad shoulders. His wings ruffle, catching the overhead light, and I notice little scars along the edges—reminders of battles I’ve never asked him about.

“Geez, man, put that thing away!” I yell, shielding my eyes, when Abraxis’s naked body catches my peripheral vision.

“My nest,” he remarks with a nonchalant shrug, folding his leathery wings with a faint squeak. “I can be naked if I want to.” He strolls back to his room, the heavy thud of his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

I shake my head, exhaling. My phone screen still shows the abrupt end to the group chat. “What do you think this means?” I ask, my voice barely cutting through the hum of the overhead light.

“With everything that’s been happening, it could be anything,” Ziggy replies.

He doesn’t look away from the skillet, where the eggplants sizzle in a shallow pool of oil.

The comforting crackle fills the silence.

“I just want Mina to know peace at some point.” His eyes glimmer green for a moment—an eerie shine that makes my stomach tense.

“She’s had a tough life; she deserves better. ”

Reaching out, I rest a hand on his shoulder. The material of his shirt feels warm against my palm. “That’s what we’re here for. To make her life easier and better. ”

A soft sound draws my attention; Mina steps out of her room dressed in her favorite leggings—and apparently my sweatshirt.

The sleeves swallow her hands, and I catch the faintest whiff of my detergent clinging to the fabric.

She’s holding the cursed eggs close, careful as if they’re alive and fragile.

I open the fridge, letting cool air rush over me, and grab her an iced tea. When I hand it over, condensation trickles down my thumb, making the can slick. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” I settle on the arm of the chair next to her.

She cracks the can open with a soft hiss and takes a long sip. “Yeah, the idea that I’m not going to be strong enough against my father haunts me.” Her voice is quiet, and her gold eyes flick up to mine—human, but undeniably fierce.

“It’s hard to fight someone with more experience,” I say, leaning in just enough to catch the faint floral note of her shampoo. I press a quick kiss to the crown of her head. “You have to out think and outmaneuver them—use their size against them.”

She nods as I stand and step away. “I’m going to finish dinner. Holler if you need or want anything.”

Her gaze flicks to the eggs in her lap. She hums softly—a gentle tune that resonates in the quiet space.

The eggs pulse in time with her melody, glowing as if responding to her voice.

The sight sends a shiver of something I can’t name down my spine: awe, maybe, or fear of the unknown.

Either way, I can’t tear my eyes away. It’s mesmerizing how deeply connected she is to them, and I wonder if any of us truly understand what she’s capable of.