Page 87 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy, Year 3)
Something makes her stop, a hesitation that ripples through her body like a wave.
She waits for Abraxis to lead her out, her head tilting slightly to expose her neck to him.
This change in behavior has Thauglor written all over it—his influence on her is unmistakable.
I exchange a glance with him as they leave, his sapphire eyes glowing with satisfaction in the dim light.
As their footsteps fade, I turn back to the basilisk skull, its empty eye sockets seeming to mock me. The garden feels emptier without Mina’s presence, the air stiller, less charged. Thauglor moves to stand beside me, his massive frame blocking some of the chill that seeps in from the corridor.
“I’m guessing you’ve been working with our mate?”
I may as well ask the question that is eating at me.
The words taste like copper on my tongue, a mixture of curiosity and jealousy that I’m reluctant to admit even to myself.
We head into what is now my office in the upper nest, our footsteps echoing against the polished stone floor.
The room smells of leather-bound books, aged parchment, and the lingering scent of Mina—honey and lavender and ozone.
“I have,” Thauglor answers, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.
He smirks, sapphire eyes glinting with satisfaction, and huffs a little as he moves to the minibar to pour himself a whiskey.
The crystal decanter clinks against the glass as he pours the amber liquid, its rich, smoky aroma filling the space between us.
“We talked at length the other night after we bonded.”
He shakes his head; the gesture seeming almost wistful, then looks back at me.
“Her father did some real damage.” His voice drops lower, the words weighted with something dark and dangerous.
“She takes control when she’s afraid. So when she tries to take control, we need to assess what may make her uneasy.
We have two choices at that point—either fix it or walk her through it.
” He says this calmly, as if discussing the weather rather than the psychological wounds of our shared mate.
“So it’s a stress reaction. She wasn’t allowed to be afraid, so instead of being afraid, she gets aggressive.
” I lean forward in my leather chair, the material creaking beneath me as Thauglor offers me two fingers of whiskey.
The glass is cool against my palm, a stark contrast to the heat that seems to perpetually radiate from my skin these days.
“Basically, that’s it in a nutshell.” He shrugs like it’s the simplest thing in the world, his massive shoulders rising and falling with the movement.
The leather of his jacket stretches across his broad back, making a soft sound that’s almost lost beneath our breathing.
“Just to let you know, my great wyrm gift is to see memories of others. So Mina let me see hers. It’s how I’ve been helping her. ”
Taking the seat before my desk, he reclines slightly, the chair groaning under his weight. The scent of him—ancient stone, smoke, and something primal that speaks to the predator in me .
“Honestly, I’m not sure what mine is yet.” I tilt my head, looking at him. The sapphire eyes that have seen millennia come and go. Then I turn to stare at my drink in my hand, watching the way the light catches in the amber liquid, creating patterns like tiny flames.
“Besides commanding presence? I’d rather have that gift than to snoop in people’s memories.
” Thauglor rolls his eyes, the gesture surprisingly human from one so ancient.
Then he pauses, his entire body going still in that way predators do before they strike.
The air in the room seems to thicken, charged with sudden purpose.
“I need to get to Blackhaven. I can read Kai’s memories.
Maybe I can find where that bastard of a father of Mina’s is hiding. ”
Thauglor stands suddenly, the movement so swift that it disturbs the air, sending the scent of aged whiskey wafting toward me.
His intention is obvious in every line of his body—he’s ready to hunt.
Before he can race out of the office, Ziggy manifests in the room with a subtle shift in air pressure that makes my ears pop.
The scent of his musk announces his arrival before he’s fully visible.
“Just the man we need,” I say, setting my glass down with a soft clink against the polished wood of my desk. “I want you to take Thauglor to Blackhaven to interrogate Kai. I’ll message Vox to let him know he’s on his way.”
Ziggy nods, his green eyes assessing the situation quickly. He extends a hand out to Thauglor. His slender fingers are a stark contrast to the ancient dragon’s massive hand.
“Closing your eyes helps with the nausea,” he advises, his voice light but carrying undertones of wariness. He takes Thauglor’s hand, and before Thauglor can speak, they are gone. The air rushes to fill the void where they stood, creating a soft whoosh that stirs the papers on my desk.
We’re one step closer to finding out where Abaddon is hiding.
The whiskey burns pleasantly as I take a long swallow, warmth spreading through my chest. The other issue is figuring out what teachers are working against my young mate.
I tap my fingers against the desk, the sound rhythmic and soothing as I think through the possibilities.
The last piece of the puzzle is settling Thauglor in as the new headmaster, whether or not he wants it.