Page 86 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy, Year 3)

Klauth

Mina is a maelstrom of emotions while she’s visiting her sister.

Abraxis, Thauglor, and I are working on a surprise for our mate for when she returns.

The air in the garden is thick with anticipation, our breaths creating small clouds in the cool underground air.

Lysander’s basilisk skull has been set up on a pile of stones, using sticks to hold the jaws open.

The bone gleams with an eerie ivory sheen under the phosphorescent light of the fungi that line the walls.

With Abraxis’s dragon being smaller than mine, he has shifted in the garden space, using his dragon’s form to maneuver the skull into position.

“That looks perfect,” I yell when he gets it to face the entrance, just the way I wanted it to.

My voice echoes against the stone walls, disturbing the vines that hang like curtains from the ceiling.

Abraxis shifts back, the sound of his bones cracking and reforming filling the garden before he stands before me.

His breath comes in quick pants as he examines our handiwork.

We stare at the skull, its empty eye sockets seeming to follow our movements .

“I hope she likes it,” he says as we move around the interior of the garden, looking at it from different angles. Our boots crush the delicate plants beneath our feet, releasing bursts of fragrance into the air—mint, nightshade, and something uniquely toxic that makes my nostrils burn.

Thauglor joins us, his massive frame blocking the dim light from the entrance as he steps through.

The ground trembles slightly beneath his weight.

Before any of us can speak, we feel Mina’s emotions go erratic through our bond.

The sensation is like being caught in a whirlpool.

First, the craving of a clutch of her own, the longing so intense it makes my chest ache.

Then, not long after, the feeling of things not right between her and her sister.

The bond between us turns cold, like ice spreading through my veins.

I watch Thauglor’s eyes glow, changing from their usual blue to a stormy sapphire that illuminates his face in the dim light.

I hear his voice echo in my head, the sound both everywhere and nowhere at once.

He soothes her, his mental voice a deep rumble that reminds me of distant thunder.

But I know Mina’s plan. She’s going to have a clutch to lure her father out.

The thought sends a chill down my spine despite the humid warmth of the garden.

Thauglor shakes his head and growls low, the sound vibrating in my chest cavity.

“She wants a family. Why don’t we just hunt her father down and torch him?

” Thauglor huffs, and a bellow of acid escapes his lips, sizzling as it hits the grass.

The acrid smell burns my nostrils and makes my eyes water.

Abraxis is nodding along with Thauglor, his jaw set in determination, muscles tense beneath his skin.

I run my hand down my face, feeling the day’s stubble scrape against my palm. I have two black dragons on my hands. One with a legendary temperament and his mini-me that’s trying so hard to be big and bad like his ancestor. The thought would be amusing if the situation weren’t so serious .

“Because we can’t just keep going around killing people,” I motion towards the skull.

The bone yellowed from the acid but still intimidating.

“He died because he stole our mate. I chased her father across half the continent because he was going to kill our mate.” The memory of that pursuit burns hot in my mind—hours tracking through the wilderness, the scent of fear and hatred guiding me.

“Mina killed an entire flight of fire drakes because they had been making her life hell. And they kept trying to kill her,” Abraxis adds, his voice carrying a note of pride. The leather of his vest creaks as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“She did?” Thauglor asks, turning to face Abraxis, his eyes widening with surprise and something that looks suspiciously like approval.

“She’s killed ambush drakes. Her first one was before she could shift into her dragon,” Abraxis adds, rocking back on his heels as he delivers this information.

“What do you mean ‘before she could shift into her dragon’?” That catches my attention. My heart rate increases as my mind races through the implications. The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thin.

“Females can’t shift into their dragons until their twenty-first birthday, males their seventeenth. Why?” Abraxis looks between Thauglor and me, confusion clouding his features. His scent changes subtly, taking on a sharper edge that betrays his unease.

“When did that start happening? We’ve always had access to our dragons,” Thauglor asks, and it dawns on me like a lightning strike, illuminating darkness I didn’t know existed.

“The anointing ceremony. There’s something in that oil that locks their dragons away.” My eyes jump from Abraxis to Thauglor, the realization bitter on my tongue. My hands clench into fists at my sides, nails digging half-moons into my palms .

“No hatchling of mine will ever have the oil touch them,” Thauglor growls, and the walls shake. Small pebbles dislodge from the ceiling, pattering down around us like rain. The sound of his rage is primal and ancient, something that speaks to the predator in all of us.

“I agree, and I bet if we tell Mina our suspicions, she will agree.” Stepping forward, I adjust a stick to change how open the basilisk skull is. The smooth bone is cool beneath my fingers, its teeth still razor-sharp.

“What will I agree with?” Mina’s voice fills the room, her scent—honey, lavender, and something metallic that is uniquely her—reaching me before I fully register her presence.

We all turn slowly to face her, guilty expressions no doubt clear on our faces.

Before I can open my mouth, she shoves past me, her shoulder brushing against mine with enough force to make me step back.

She approaches the skull in her garden, her footsteps nearly silent on the grass.

She growls at it for a minute straight. The sound rumbling deep in her chest like distant thunder.

Her stance is wide, confrontational, as if the skull might rise and challenge her.

Finally, she turns to look at us, her golden eyes glowing in the dim light.

“It looks wonderful. But what will I agree with?”

“Mate...” Thauglor starts and moves forward to take Mina’s hands in his.

Her fingers look delicate against his massive palms, but I know the strength those slender hands possess.

“We,” he pulls a hand away and waves it at Abraxis and me, “believe the anointing oil blocks a dragon’s ability to shift.

Back before Klauth and I were captured, we could shift back and forth from the moment we hatched.

” Thauglor drops the bomb, and we wait. The silence that follows is heavy, pressing against my eardrums like a physical force.

Mina’s eyes dart over to me, then back to Abraxis, then back to Thauglor.

Each movement is quick and sharp, like a predator assessing threats.

“I will rend the flesh from anyone that tries to anoint my child. They’ll be scorched into a blackened splat on the floor.

” Her growls get deeper, vibrating the very air around us.

The rage she’s feeling is twisting her features, her canines lengthening visibly as she speaks.

The scales along her throat rise, catching the dim light like polished metal.

The angrier she gets, the more Thauglor is smiling, his expression one of fierce pride.

She screams her rage; the sound echoing off the stone walls and making my ears ring.

She spreads her fingers, making a cage with them.

A ball of lightning forms between her hands, crackling and spitting blue-white sparks that illuminate her face from below, casting strange shadows that make her look otherworldly.

The hair on my arms stands on end as the electrical charge fills the room, making us take a collective step back.

The scent of ozone fills the air, sharp, and tangy.

“When did that start happening?” I thought it was a one-off freak occurrence when she wielded lightning the last time. My voice sounds strangled even to my own ears, tension constricting my throat.

“After taking Thauglor as my mate,” Mina purrs, the sound a stark contrast to her previous rage.

The lightning dissipates as quickly as it formed, leaving spots dancing in my vision.

She dives into the male in question’s arms, her movements fluid and graceful.

She throws her head back, smiling up at him, exposing the elegant column of her throat in a gesture of trust that makes something primal stir within me.

“Oh, and my descendant is cleared for flying again,” Thauglor says as he bends down to kiss Mina on her forehead. His lips linger there, a gesture of affection that seems at odds with his fearsome reputation.

“He is?” She squeals, the sound high and girlish compared to her earlier growls.

She turns and dives into Abraxis’s arms, her body moving with an eagerness that makes my chest tighten with a mixture of jealousy and affection.

She immediately presses the bridge of her nose under his jaw, purring.

The sound is soothing, vibrating through the air like a balm for frayed nerves.

That is a welcomed sight. I wonder what changed.

“Come with me to stretch my wings?” he asks her as he kisses her temple, his breath disturbing the silver strands of her hair. Mina doesn’t answer; instead, she grabs his hand and starts to drag him out of the garden. Her enthusiasm is palpable, crackling around her like a tangible force.