Page 39 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy, Year 3)
Callan
I sit in the dim, stuffy meeting room this morning, the air heavy with the scent of old leather and stale coffee. All the teachers and instructors have been summoned, and I know it’s because Klauth and Mina have been crowned sovereign rulers of the Aurelian Isles.
“What does this mean for the academy?” Samara asks, gliding into her usual spot on the right side of the long, scarred oak table. Her voice is smooth but laced with uncertainty, and I can almost feel the tremor of tension in the space between us.
Lysander’s words cut through the low murmur like a shard of ice. “Nothing but the King will have his eyes focused on the academy,” he declares venomously. His tone is dripping with disdain as his words echo off the cold stone walls.
Abraxis’s response is even colder. “It was given back to him, as is the blood rite of inheritance.” He continues, his voice flat and unyielding, “It’s in the accords.
If an elder emerges with a proven blood claim on lands, all lands revert to the rightful owner or heir.
” With a heavy slap, he sends a thick, worn leather tome crashing onto the table.
The sound reverberates through the room, and I catch a whiff of its musty pages as they settle open.
Anipe tilts her head, her eyes narrowing as she examines the tome.
“My people adhere to the same right of inheritance,” she says softly before her gaze shifts to me.
“Your mate is now our queen, yet she still attends classes like a commoner. Why hasn’t she tried to test out and graduate early?
She’s clearly the smartest student on campus.
” Hearing her praise for Mina fills me with a fierce pride, even as the charged air prickles with unspoken disapproval.
“She believes she needs the education here and doesn’t want to be treated any differently,” I add, my voice firm yet tinged with concern.
I glance at Abraxis—his silent nod confirms it—and I see Leander and Ziggy offering their quiet assent.
Their subtle gestures mingle with the low hum of tension that vibrates in the room.
Lysander’s gaze sweeps around as he demands, “Where is Mr. Husk?” His voice is sharp, echoing off the stone like a challenge.
“He’s on guard duty,” Ziggy replies. As he speaks, his eyes suddenly flash with an eerie green light—a glow that sends an unexpected chill down my spine.
Lysander isn’t having any of it. “He has classes to teach,” he snaps, slamming his hands down on the table. The resounding thud rattles the heavy silence.
A low growl escapes Abraxis as he fixes Lysander with a steely stare—the first time I’ve ever seen him openly defy that man.
“He has fifth-period archery and weapons training three days a week. When he’s teaching, one of the others stays with Mina.
” His words are accompanied by a subtle unfurling of his wings.
The soft rustle of the leathery skin a clear warning that fills the room with a palpable charge.
Finlay’s measured voice cuts in next. “Do we have the final total from the purge?” He holds up the ancient tome as if to record the last counts, and I catch the faint scent of ink and worn paper rising from its pages.
Isobel—the resident green hag with a voice as rough as gravel—steps forward.
“Three hundred and nine. Willamina Ragnar…” She enunciates the new last name with a crisp finality, then looks at Abraxis, who simply nods.
“Had the highest kill count of five.” Her words hang in the air, heavy and foreboding, as the reality of the purge’s toll settles over us like a dark shroud.
Lysander snarls, turning his back on the table. “She wiped out an entire nest of fire drakes. Do you have any idea how much trouble her killing spree caused us with Arista’s father?” His voice, raw with anger, seems to make the very air vibrate.
I can’t hold back. “You know as well as I do that diplomatic immunity means nothing during the purge.” I slam the rule book onto the table, its pages fluttering open to the exact section that outlines the rules.
“If he was so worried about his daughter, he should have taken her out of school for the days around the purge.” The impact of the book echoes, and a few startled glances ripple through the room.
Lysander roars again, “She wiped out an entire flight,” his words sharp and unforgiving.
“If you had done your damn job, she wouldn’t have wiped them out,” Abraxis retorts, jabbing a finger at Lysander. The charged atmosphere forces the other staff members to step back, their eyes darting nervously between each other.
Kai arches a brow as he confronts Lysander. “I’ve brought my concerns to you, too. You didn’t do anything about it?” His tone is icy, laden with the weight of unspoken accusations.
Lysander dismisses the challenge with a scoff. “It’s a moot point. She was bred to be a weapon.” In his arrogance, he turns his back on the table, exposing himself to further reproach .
Before I can even process the next moment, Ziggy vanishes from his seat and reappears in front of Lysander.
His eyes burn brighter than I’ve ever seen them, the glow almost blinding in its intensity.
“Mina is not a weapon. She is a living, breathing person. Just because you and her father do not value females doesn’t mean the rest of us follow your sexist views,” he growls, his voice resonating with a fierce, protective energy.
Instinctively, I yank him away, fearing what might happen if Lysander’s notorious stone gaze falls upon him.
The low, rumbling growl from Ziggy’s chest draws every eye in the room. Normally, he’s the calming presence we rely on, but now he stands defiant—a spark of rebellion amid the suffocating tension. I can almost taste the acrid fear and anger that hangs in the air.
A sharp knocking at the door interrupts our simmering conflict, and we all fix our eyes on it.
The rhythmic rap feels urgent, and I sense something is about to change.
I watch as Abraxis’s features shift ever so slightly—a corner of his mouth lifting in a way that tells me Mina has arrived.
Another knock sounds before a silver talon slips through the narrow gap between the door and its frame, deftly lifting the latch.
The door creaks open, and in steps Mina, with Balor on her arm.
Her presence fills the room. Her eyes blaze a fierce, golden light, narrow and penetrating, while her every movement exudes an effortless, dangerous grace.
“Why is my Ziggy so angry?” Mina purrs, though the gentle lilt in her voice does nothing to hide the rage simmering behind those glowing eyes.
I watch, transfixed, as sparks—like quicksilver lightning—seem to dance along her horns.
Her gaze sweeps the room, finally locking onto Lysander in a challenge that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Just a misunderstanding, your highness,” Lysander spits out, turning his face away as if to hide his discomfort. His words, cold and dismissive, send a chill through me .
Mina’s smile is a slow, dangerous curve as she replies, “Doubtful…” The way she holds her head, defiant and unwavering, reminds me painfully of Klauth in those rare moments when he loses control.
“Your Highness…” Anipe addresses her softly, and Mina turns with a cool smile that barely masks the fire in her eyes.
“Please, it’s just Mina while I’m here. Most of the student body doesn’t know about the change.
I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.
” She smirks, then fixes her gaze on me for a fleeting moment.
“Then again, are you all aware that Abraxis, Callan, Balor, Ziggy, and Leander are my King Consorts?” She leans back against Balor’s broad chest, her hands resting lightly on the egg carrier slung beneath her breasts.
The other staff members’ gazes dart around the room as they exchange incredulous glances.
My heart pounds in my ears as I silently ask, What has my mate done? The disbelief in the room is almost tangible—a heavy, oppressive force that makes every breath shallow.
Mina continues, her tone laced with sarcasm.
“Hmm, judging by your faces, it seems our headmaster didn’t pass that information along like he was supposed to.
” She fixes her steely gaze on Lysander, then turns to Finlay.
“We learned in our first year of etiquette class that when a new monarch ascends, proclamations are to be sent out. Something I handled personally with Finlay’s help.
” For a moment, she studies her hand, then her eyes settle on Klauth’s signet ring glinting on her finger in the low light.
“I wonder why they weren’t distributed as they were supposed to be?” she muses, every word dripping with biting sarcasm.
Trying to defuse the tension, I offer, “The staff is aware now.” My voice is soft, but I feel the weight of her distant, troubled eyes as they betray a storm brewing within her.
Mina blinks slowly and nods. “I’ll see everyone at home later.
I’m needed elsewhere.” With that, she turns and strides out, Balor following with a storm of anger etched into his features.
I watch them go, my thoughts churning with concern, wondering what could have set both of them off at the same time as the echo of their footsteps fades into the oppressive silence of the room.
Mina isn’t in the nest above the Risedale compound tonight.
Instead, I find her in the main meeting room with Vox, Warwick, Abraxis, and Klauth.
The room is dimly lit, the low hum of conversation blending with the lingering scent of aged wood and stale coffee.
I feel a prickle of anticipation mixed with unease as I step further inside.
“So, the threat seems to be the headmaster, if I’m understanding correctly?” Vox asks, accepting a drink Mina has poured. The cool glass in his hand contrasts with the warmth of the liquid. I catch a subtle tang of lemon zest underneath its bitter edge.
Mina’s eyes narrow as she replies, “Yes. He was railing against the right of inheritance as well.” At that moment, she tilts her head in the opposite direction to where Klauth leans, a silent counterpoint to his unspoken assertion.
Abraxis sips his beer slowly, the froth dissipating into the air as he comments, “This one announced we are all king consorts to the staff,” his free hand gesturing toward Mina with deliberate emphasis. His tone carries a mix of irony and bemusement that ripples through the room.
Mina huffs and rolls her eyes. “It was apparent that the announcements Finlay, Klauth, and I wrote weren’t handed out by Lysander.
” With a playful shove, she nudges me into the chair behind her before striding over and settling on my lap.
The sudden closeness sends a surge of warmth through me—a comforting intimacy that contrasts with the cool, calculated atmosphere of the meeting room.
I lean in and press a soft kiss against her cheek, tasting a whisper of mint from her perfume. “But you didn’t name Vaughn as a king consort to the staff. Why?” I ask, my voice low and curious as I search her eyes for the answer.
Klauth, leaning casually against the cool wall, fixes his gaze on all of us and says, “That was my request. He can be turned to stone and then shattered if anyone thinks he can be used against Mina.” His words settle over us like a heavy shroud, punctuating the charged silence that follows.
Vox nods, his eyes scanning the table cluttered with half-empty glasses and scattered documents. “Makes sense. What’s the next move?” he inquires, his tone deliberate.
Mina’s gaze drifts to the egg carrier resting on the table, its surface smooth under the ambient light.
“Well, no one saw us leave the campus, so they probably think we’re all in Malivore,” she whispers, her voice laced with mischief and concern.
“Thauglor’s time is approaching.” Her eyes flick briefly to Iris before she flies over to rest on her lap, as though drawing strength from the familiar.
Abraxis leans forward, his impatience barely concealed. “What aren’t you telling us?” he demands, his eyes flitting from me to Mina and back again.
Mina’s gaze hardens for a split second. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she replies curtly before her head snaps in Klauth’s direction.
Klauth glances at Ziggy before returning his attention to Mina.
“My treasure, you look tired. Why don’t you let Ziggy take you and the others back to your nest to rest?
I’ll join you shortly.” His voice softens as he steps forward into the muted glow of the room.
With deliberate care, he pulls Mina to her feet and kisses her softly on the forehead—the gentle warmth of his lips a stark contrast to the cool air—before releasing her into Ziggy’s care.
I watch, a mix of longing and apprehension knotting in my stomach, as Mina smiles and murmurs, “Okay, my love, see you soon.” In the blink of an eye, she and Ziggy vanish into the ether, leaving behind a bittersweet echo of their presence and the fading aroma of her perfume that lingers in the stillness of the room.