Page 13 of Klauth (Dragonis Academy, Year 2.5 #3)

Chapter Thirteen

I can feel the shift of air around us, even through the confining darkness of this cursed shell.

Each thunderous beat of Mina’s wings thrums through my prison, reverberating against my scales and stirring the thick, warm fluid that envelops me.

Her rage pulses like a living thing, fueling every stroke of her dragoness’s wings.

It’s almost suffocating in here, the heat of her fury mingling with my breath until I’m practically choking on it.

When the hatchling rumbles to her, I sense a brush of movement outside—Mina mentions her frill, pressing it against her body.

Her tone is clipped, distracted. She’s not fully focused on the hatchling’s small comfort, but on the knowledge swirling in her head.

I catch rapid flickers of her thoughts—field medic training, frantic recollections of birthing procedures in human form.

I remember her voice as she read those books aloud for Thauglor and me, the rustle of pages and the smell of old parchment lingering in the air.

She’d questioned why she couldn’t just birth in her dragon form. Smart mate.

A roar tears out of her, echoing like an earthquake through my shell.

My entire world trembles. She’s announcing our arrival to the hatchling’s family nest. The warmth intensifies as she lands; I hear the scrape of claws against stone and the whoosh of air as she folds her wings.

The female answering her has a sharper cry—likely the hatchling’s mother.

There’s a moment of tension so taut I can taste it: the metallic tang of Mina’s disdain.

She lets the male place his head over hers in a display of dominance, and I can feel the coil of her muscles, the subtle shift that tells me she’s fighting every urge to rip his throat out.

The gryphon holding us also quivers with unease—he knows I’m here, and he doesn’t like it.

Mina’s anxiety slams into me next, like an icy wind cutting through the suffocating heat.

She’s worried about a female named Cora.

My vision blurs with a sudden stab of fear; her heart’s pounding so fiercely that my shell vibrates with each beat.

One moment, she’s sobbing into the arms of the woman she calls Mom.

The next, her rage roars back, scorching my senses, hotter than my own flames.

It’s all for her friend—Cora is in trouble, and my mate is prepared to kill the male called Warwick.

Her threat against him surges through our bond like molten lava.

I feel her blood ignite, adrenaline spiking so powerfully that my scales prick with static energy.

She all but purrs as she describes how she’ll gut him, strangle him with his own entrails, then strike his manhood with lightning.

Her growl snakes through me, a low rumble of fury that makes the egg around me quake.

She is magnificent and terrifying at once.

Without warning, her attention shifts. She moves us closer to Cora, and I sense the temperature around us drop as sadness replaces the wildfire anger.

It settles in my gut like heavy ash. “I need to set you two down so I can get in the water with Cora,” she whispers, her voice trembling at the edges with concern.

Warmth presses against my shell—her lips, gentle despite the fury still echoing in my mind.

My eyelids grow heavy at that tender touch. Exhaustion claims me again as her heartbeat fades into a distant thrum. But in my last moments of wakefulness, I pray she follows through and torches that careless male for daring to endanger her friend.

Not being able to tell the passage of time is the worst part of this imprisonment.

The inside of this shell is cramped, the smooth interior pressing against my back.

The warmth of the fluid surrounding me seeps into my scales, and the faint scent of minerals—like damp stone—clings to everything.

I can’t see anything but darkness, though I catch the occasional ripple of light shifting through the thinning membrane when Mina moves us.

I don’t know if it’s been minutes, hours, days, or weeks since the last time Mina snuggled us.

She’s tired but sated. She doesn’t realize that she replays flashes of memories to us.

Through the thin veil of our connection, I sense her lingering adrenaline from the fight with the hatchling—and then that fierce mating that followed, her control dominating most of it.

This is the slow fall of her dragoness’s respect for its mate.

We’re going to have our hands full when we hatch.

An uncomfortable shiver crawls up my spine as I consider it, the viscous fluid inside the egg sliding across my scales.

I can only hope we are large enough that her dragoness thinks twice about challenging us.

Unlike the hatchling, because I love her, I will force her submission if I have to.

Mina speaks about her fears of not being able to defeat her father.

Her voice filters in like a distant echo through layers of shell and fluid, and I wish I could tell her she doesn’t need to.

I’ll be there to save her. She just has to live through the battle.

Mina hums to us, and the sound vibrates through my egg, sending calming ripples across the liquid I’m trapped in.

It’s soothing. My dragon resonates in time with her as I press my hands to the shell, feeling the faint hum of her heartbeat through my palms. I can only hope something is visible outside of the shell or that she can feel me singing with her.

Being trapped in here is the second worst experience of my life.

Something is happening. Waves of apprehension move through Mina like the changing of the tide stirring the fluid around me.

I catch the muffled sound of someone telling her they’re sorry.

Then there’s the pull of her summoning the fairy dragon to her—a light, tingling shift in the bond that suggests a new presence hovering near.

It seems to be her preferred guardian for us.

Everything goes still. Too still. Pain radiates through the bond from Mina, slamming into me like a hot spike to my chest. Something makes her heart hurt, and she swallows it down.

My pulse thrums in response, and the tension in her body bleeds into me.

Something is terribly wrong, but Mina isn’t talking or sharing with us.

She wants to cry but isn’t letting herself.

There’s an undercurrent of fear mixed in as she shuts her emotions down, and I feel the shell grow almost colder against my skin, as though her mood affects the warmth that surrounds me.

Mina cradles us tightly to her chest, pressing the egg so close I can feel the swift thump-thump of her heartbeat.

We try to reassure her, sending pulses of comfort through the bond.

I push every gentle, protective feeling I have into her, hoping she can sense it.

Her heart beats hard in her chest, a heavy drum that betrays the grief she’s hiding beneath layers of resolve.

“You need to move and hide my sister. She may not want to see me because of who my father is, but she’s still my sister,” Mina says, voice trembling with the weight of unspoken fears.

By what I can piece together, she’s in front of the basilisk—probably the only male in the nest that doesn’t let her get away with anything and doesn’t baby her.

I feel the shimmer of a dormant bond. The bloody bastard buried his bond with her.

The echo of that sealed connection flickers across my senses like a faint static charge. But it’s not my place to tell her.

Mina’s mind is going a million miles a minute and I can’t help her.

My dragon sings to her, his haunting tones filling the egg with a low, resonant vibration that makes the shell buzz under my palms. He sings of the future, of protection and love.

He sings of the nest he wants to dig for her if she doesn’t have one already.

His song speaks of flying at night through star-filled skies and making love under the moonlight.

“He’s trying to make you feel better,” a gentle male voice says. The words come through muffled, but I can imagine the caring look on his face. Apparently, what I am doing is working.

“He’s worried about me. Worried about not being there in time when I need him most,” Mina says, and she speaks the truth. I don’t know how long it will take for me to bust out of this prison or if it is even possible.

The more time spent in Mina’s presence, the stronger our bond becomes.

It was said a mate would break the curse.

Be it a true mate or someone who is as dark as you, freedom will be out of reach until she comes for you—a rare female made of rival dens, descendant of your greatest enemies.

Prideful your kind is, and your pride will be your undoing. A female like that will never be born.

The curse placed upon me echoes in my ears, a hollow resonance that blends with the thickness of the shell.

Yet Mina seems to be the one to break it.

The vision Mina had plays on repeat in my head: she sees me, but I’m bigger than I remember being.

It could just be her perception at the moment, or maybe this egg’s binding has changed me.

How dare the hatchling question Mina showing us what she saw?

She is the dragoness—this is her nest. Her fingers make contact with my shell, and I sigh as she strokes them.

The sensation of her touch spreads warmth through the hardened surface.

She relays what we had spoken about. I’ll tolerate the hatchling in charge.

But I know if my mate is as smart as she seems, she will see the value of either myself or Thauglor leading the nest.

“We will do whatever is best for the nest and Mina, first and foremost,” I hear the hatchling say. Then his hand lands on my egg, the pressure faint but distinct.

‘ I will hold you to that, ’ I say as loud as I can, trying to project my voice to him. ‘ Mina’s safety and comfort over all. ’ My second statement is nonnegotiable, and I press my palm against the shell, imagining it might crack from the force of my determination. But it doesn’t.

The hatchling admits to hearing us. I wonder how much the others can hear from us as well.

I become sleepy after pushing my feelings toward the hatchling, drained by the effort it takes to speak beyond this cursed barrier.

It’s so much easier to talk to Mina. She’s a soothing presence, a lifeline of warmth and hope in this dark, cramped world.