Page 9 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy, Year 3)

Mina

I feel the ambient chill of the academy pressing against me as I study the dull red egg in my hands.

You don’t win five gauntlets and not expect to be investigated by the elders—and by Lysander.

The overhead lights flicker with an uneven hum, casting jittery shadows along the walls.

He’s up to something. I just can’t put my finger on it yet.

My pulse thrums in my ears as I pour a precise amount of coarse gardening sand into Klauth’s hollowed egg.

The gritty texture against my fingertips sends a shiver through me.

I rub a thin line of glue around the fractured edges and blow a soft, controlled breath to seal it, feeling the faint warmth of my exhale.

The smell of the adhesive is sharp, but I push past the sting in my nostrils.

By the time I’m done, the egg looks untouched—no visible cracks, no sign it was ever tampered with.

I test its weight in my palms, comparing it to Thauglor’s egg in my mind.

It’s identical enough that if they weigh it, they won’t know any different.

A pang of regret stirs in my chest as I place the now-lusterless red egg on a velvet pillow. The overhead lighting washes out its color, making the shell appear even more lifeless. My gaze lingers. “Mate?” Klauth’s voice rumbles softly behind me, low and full of concern.

“I need him to believe you went dormant,” I murmur, voice wavering just enough to play the part.

“Step into my room and wait. He’ll take the egg back to the chamber and be happy I have one less egg for him to worry about.

” I glance up at Klauth, forcing a small smile.

His skin is warm to the touch as he bends down, his hand slipping around my throat in a gentle squeeze that sends a dark thrill through me.

He kisses me—brief, possessive—before disappearing into my room.

Silence settles like dust motes in the lamplit air until the knock I’ve been expecting raps against the wooden door.

The hollow echo disrupts my breath; I let my eyes burn with tears.

My mind flicks to the memory of my father killing me.

That cold, helpless feeling makes the tears spill faster.

Reaching out, I brush my fingertips over the egg’s rough shell, letting my despair radiate.

‘Mate, are you okay? Do you need me?’ Klauth’s voice resonates gently in my head, a calming pressure against the panic.

‘It’s an act,’ I answer, working to keep the grief in my expression. ‘ They need to believe you went dormant. I’m forcing myself to cry over a failure.’

My throat tightens around a fresh sob right as Lysander steps inside.

There’s a subtle, almost reptilian hiss in the way he breathes, and I catch a whiff of something metallic—like old coins—on the air.

“Miss Mina? Is something wrong with the red egg?” His feral smile stretches across his thin lips. He’s enjoying this far too much.

“He went dormant while I ran the gauntlet…” I sniffle, thinking about my mother’s rejection of me because of my scale color. The heartbreak of that memory fuels my tears. They slip hot and fast down my cheeks.

“Then I shall return him to the chamber.” Lysander tilts his head, and his basilisk eyes flash as they lock onto mine. “I told you not to pick him. He never chooses anyone.”

He flicks his gaze down, tries his stone gaze. It fails, just as I knew it would. “You do realize your stone gaze doesn’t work on me.” My words come out rough, heavy with the residual ache of crying. He blinks twice, a twitch of surprise, then reaches for the pillow.

“Why not give me the black egg as well? I’ll take them back to their resting place.

” He shoves the pillow nearer, the red egg perched precariously atop.

Iris—the small, ever-watchful creature that she is—alights on my shoulder with a brief rustle of scales.

There’s a crackle in the air around her, a faint scent of ozone that prickles the back of my throat.

Iris’s tail coils tightly around my neck as I stare at the headmaster.

My grip tightens around Thauglor’s egg, hugging it protectively against my chest. “He’s mine until he decides I am unworthy.

” The timber of my dragoness resonates through my vocal cords, making my words thrash with warning.

Tension thickens, a palpable weight pressing against everyone in the room.

Even some of my bonded mates shrink back, pressing themselves to the walls.

My heartbeat pulses through my veins, feeding that savage edge in my voice.

“I suggest you leave, Headmaster. I am hungry and agitated. We wouldn’t want an accident …

like with the spiders in the gauntlet.” I finish on a low growl, shifting my gaze between him and the elders clustered behind him.

They blanch at my not-so-subtle threat, faces losing color under the sickly glow of the overhead lamps.

Without further protest, Lysander, and the elders exit, the dead egg resting on the pillow.

I exhale shakily, trying to steady the adrenaline coursing through me.

My eyes slide closed, and I coax my dragoness back, feeling her curl into the recesses of my mind.

When I open my eyes again, the tension in the room has lessened.

I give my mates a puzzled look, raising a brow. “Did I miss something?”

Klauth emerges from my room and settles beside me, the heat of his body comforting in the sudden hush.

“You passed my empty egg off as my real egg,” he says.

“That was tactically brilliant, my treasure.” When he presses his lips to my temple, I feel an uncanny wave of peace settle over my nerves.

It’s a welcome balm. My gaze drifts to his eyes—darkening, shifting, reflecting the power beneath his calm exterior.

“Let’s eat dinner. I’m tired, and I still have the Shadowcarve gauntlet,” I say, sliding my thumb gently over his cheek before stepping away. My footsteps echo dully against the polished floor as I cross over to the kitchen island, where Leander mans the stove with a focused intensity.

“Steak, pasta, and fried zucchini with a side salad,” he announces. The air is fragrant with sizzling butter and garlic, making my stomach clench in anticipation. Leander, being the only vegetarian, usually finds it easier to cook for all of us, and a small flush colors his cheeks as I approach.

“Sounds amazing. Can I have my steak seasoned and warmed? I’m starving.

” A teasing smile plays on my lips. I lean forward, resting on my forearms, gazing up at him.

It’s a stance he loves—reminiscent of the times he’s taken me right here, bent over the counter.

The memory tangles with the savory scent of our meal, and I hear his breath hitch.

His chest lifts in a subtle show of pride.

Tension still lingers in the air like a low-hanging storm cloud, but the promise of food and the thrill of our small victory offer a shred of normalcy. I let myself savor it, if only for a moment, before the darkness of this academy closes in again.

A soft chuckle escapes Klauth’s lips as he pulls up a stool at the island, the wooden legs scraping against the tiled floor with a sharp squeal.

Overhead, a single light flickers, casting long shadows across the chipped countertop and illuminating the steam rising from the untouched plates of food.

“You submit to the nightmare,” he says, his low voice reverberating in the cramped space, “but not your dragon mate.”

My throat feels tight as I catch a faint, bitter taste in the back of my mouth—fear, perhaps, or regret.

I bite my bottom lip, wincing at the sharp sting of my canines against the tender flesh.

Then I glance over at Callan, noting the tension in his broad shoulders and the flicker of concern behind his eyes.

“The gryphon too?” Klauth muses. “Interesting turn of events.”

“They are smaller, softer than I am. Leander is prey, and in a sense, so is Callan.” Even as the words leave my mouth, there’s a deep rumble in my chest. The tight press of my heart quickens with shame.

I hate talking about my mates like this.

My gaze flickers to the floor, focusing on the faint pattern of scuffed linoleum.

I turn my face away, not wanting to speak about it anymore; even the air feels charged, dense with unspoken truths.

“Your nest is unbalanced, mate. We need to figure out what’s wrong.

” Klauth’s voice vibrates through the quiet kitchen, echoing off the walls in a low growl.

It’s the same discussion Abraxis tried having with me before, the one that made me bristle and snarl.

My lip curls, and the growl rumbles through me without warning—until Klauth slams me against the wall.

The sudden impact sends a dull ache through my shoulders.

He presses his taloned hand around my throat, the cold bite of his claws sending prickles of alarm through my skin.

His hot breath fans across my cheek. “This is serious. Dragonesses go mad when their nests are in disarray.” He snaps his teeth at me, the sound echoing in my ears.

The overhead light casts flickering shadows across his features, making him look even more predatory.

I clench my jaw and turn my face away, letting out a warning snarl through bared teeth.

Nearby, the soft flutter of Iris’s wings tugs at the edges of my hearing.

She’s trying to land on my shoulder, but Klauth won’t let her close.

“Mina…” His voice shifts when he uses my na me, taking on a note of concern.

Against my better judgment, I fix him with a glare.

“What is wrong?” he demands, his words coming out in a deep growl. “We can’t fix it if we don’t know what it is.” I see Balor and the others edge closer, the ring of bodies around me radiating tense heat. A faint click of nails against tile draws my attention back to Klauth. “Balor, do it…”