Gryphon of Glass

by Zoe Chant

  “Yes, lady,” Henrik said again.

  “So. If you need anything, I’m right next door.” Gwen swallowed. “I’m...going to...goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, lady,” Henrik said, and he gathered up her hand. For a moment, Gwen thought he was going to kiss it, and heat rushed through her body.

  But he only shook it, formally, the way that Heather had shown him. “I am grateful for all of your help,” he said in a low, sultry growl. “I feel that I have been most fortunate in the spell’s selection of my key.”

  Words failed Gwen again. “Oh, I...that’s...I’m sure I...uh...thank you?”

  “Your problem,” Henrik said gravely and Gwen had to flee before she either laughed hysterically or threw herself at him.

  7

  Henrik slept poorly, despite the extravagant bed with its spare blankets and multiple plush pillows.

  The night seemed full of strange noises, distant rumbles and horns, and at one point, there was a nearby sputter and a burst of air that had him rolling from the bed reaching for an axe that wasn’t there. He stared at the slats on the floor and remembered Trey’s description of hot air distribution. Indeed, after a few moments, the air was comfortably warm. Henrik returned to the bed with a sigh of resignation.

  Somewhere, a dog barked, a door slammed, and after a while, Henrik slept again briefly, waking before sunrise.

  He rose and dressed in his clothing from the day before, then cautiously ventured out into the quiet house.

  He paused at the door of his key. She had been clear about their sleeping arrangements. He would be in that room, she would be in this one. Was he expected to wait for her in the morning, should he rouse her, or should he go without her to the kitchen and feed himself? The door was cracked open a little, and Henrik could not decide if it was an unspoken invitation until he remembered her mention of a domestic cat.

  What he really wanted to do was crawl naked into her bed and wake her with his kiss, but he knew that he didn’t yet have that right.

  Soon, he hoped.

  He was so irresistibly drawn to the woman. Even understanding that she was his anchor here in this world, he found it unsettling how immediately he trusted her, and how much he wanted her, in ways that were both carnal and cerebral. He would have liked to ask her questions, apart from the others.

  Henrik padded down the carpeted stairs and moved through the quiet common space. The castle was a marvel, with windows that let no drafts in, and smooth plaster walls in a variety of neutral colors, adorned with tasteful, understated art, even if some of it was bafflingly childish. The furniture was supremely symmetrical and very delicate, indicating the work of a craftsman of considerable skill.

  He found the kitchen and lay his hands flat on the marbled countertop. Trey had taken great pleasure in showing him the various appliances. The cold-making food-keeper, a refrigerator, hulked in one corner. The drawbridge-doored oven, currently cool, had blinking lights guarding it. Henrik skirted away from it, not willing to challenge either appliance.

  The cabinets had many colorful boxes that contained things that Henrik could not identify as food. Fruity Pebbles had the encouraging word ‘fruit,’ but he did not think that pebbles were edible, even here. The box labeled Macaroni and Cheese did not have a smell even similar to cheese, and when he shook it, it sounded less appetizing even than the box of light rocks. Eventually, he found a loaf of bread, enclosed in a clear flexible fabric.

  Remembering how Gwen had opened the package of his garments, he tore open the plastic. Thin, perfectly-uniform slices fell out once he had made an opening large enough. It was soft bread, smooth and delicious, if a little lacking in substance.

  He was tucking the extra slices back into the torn packaging when there was a sudden little mrrrt! and a small form landed on the counter beside him.

  It was a feline with pale fur, its nose, tail, and paws a darker brown. Its eyes were brilliant blue and they stared at Henrik in unblinking challenge.

  “You are Gwen’s companion animal,” Henrik remembered. “Socks.”

  Socks made a low growl that was definitely not a friendly purr, raised herself from her crouch and paraded across the counter in front of him to investigate the bread. She seemed more interested in licking the crinkly wrapper than she was in eating the food. Her faintly striped tail lashed.

  Henrik did not attempt to stroke her, remembering Gwen’s warning that she was independent. “Feline mistress, please let me share my bread.”

  Behind them, there was a tremendous rumble and a crash that had Henrik reaching for a weapon that he still lacked. There seemed to be no source for the noise, and the cat appeared undisturbed. The kitchen was silent again, except for the cat nosing the bread packaging.

  Having licked the plastic to her satisfaction, Socks threaded her way along the counter, pausing to sniff a few items and bat at the sink faucet disdainfully before she jumped back to the floor and glided away.

  Henrik ate another few slices of bread and wandered around the kitchen, not daring to touch anything. There were more of the electrical sockets that Gwen had warned him about. He turned on the light switch, unable to resist turning it off and back on again in wonder. The kitchen was transformed by the light, so beautifully illuminated that it was hard to believe it was the same space.

  He left the kitchen to explore further, finding the room full of portal-like image machines where they had watched the incomprehensible entertainment. He wandered in and looked at the curious machines and black portals. The cartoons had required too much explanation for him to find them humorous. That, and he’d been too distracted by Gwen’s primal nearness to pay much attention to them. All he really wanted to do was draw her into his arms, to touch her soft-looking hair, lay his lips on hers.

  “Henrik?”

  Gwen was standing in the doorway, and as beautiful as she’d been in his imagination, she was a hundred times more in real life. How had he gotten so lucky?

  “Do you want a cup of coffee?” she asked, after a moment of silence.

  Trey had mentioned coffee. “I would like that,” Henrik said formally.

  “I’ll show you how it’s made,” Gwen said, and she led him back to the intimidating kitchen. She paused at the bread, open on the counter, then chuckled. “Let me get a new bag for this. Um, not all packaging gets thrown out.”

  “I didn’t realize,” Henrik said sheepishly.

  “You couldn’t have!” Gwen said, demonstrating the twist-tie at the end that opened the bag. “This must all be so new and weird to you.” She added shyly, “It kind of is for me, too.”

  “Bread is new?” Henrik guessed.

  Her eyes crinkled in amusement. “You,” she said. “Being your key. Do you want a piece of toast?” She was putting the last slices into the undamaged bag.

  Henrik shrugged in confusion. Rez had mentioned toasting marshmallows. “Yes?”

  Two slices went into slits on the top of a strange metal box and Gwen showed him the controls. “This a toaster. This dial says how dark the toast will get, we’ll start about here at six. This button is for defrosting frozen things, this one is for bagels. This cancels the toast cycle. Push this lever down...” The toast vanished into the box and Henrik was astonished to peer in and see tiny wires start glowing.

  “Fascinating!”

  Gwen’s sideways look was amused and warm, quickly changing to alarm as Henrik reached for the toaster. “Don’t stick anything in there!”

  Henrik froze.

  “It’s hot, and electrified. You could electrocute yourself.”

  “What is electrocute?”

  “It’s a painful shock, it can kill you.”

  Henrik eyed the toaster with new respect. “Your world is full of danger and wonders,” he said respectfully. The box certainly looked harmless enough.

  “Speaking of wonders, I’m going to show you how to make coffee next. This is a very, very useful Earth skill.”

  She showed him where the ground
coffee was, and small cloth cones called filters. “You fill the pot to here,” she said, pointing to a line on the carafe. “Cold water is fine, no need to use hot, and then pour it here.” She let him do the pouring, and Henrik was very aware of how close to her he had to lean.

  “Okay, the pot goes back here, feel that little bit of resistance? Just a little further. If you don’t get it in quite far enough, you’ll have a mess of hot coffee on the counter because it won’t get into the pot.”

  “I suspect there is an analogy to be made from this,” Henrik observed.

  Gwen chuckled wryly. “I’m sure there is.”

  She showed him how to measure the grounds and insert the filter. “Did you have tea or anything?” she asked, letting him press the button that made it start to gargle alarmingly. “Something that you drank as a stimulant?”

  “There were various steeped drinks that had mild magical properties. To clear the mind, to sharpen senses.”

  “Was everything magic? Robin doesn’t like to talk about it, and the others just say that you know more about how it works than they do. Maybe if I understood it, I’d be...better at this.” She flapped her hands.

  “Our world is...was...built from magic. Magic is so deep in its roots that nothing is entirely free of it.”

  “Even tea?”

  “A cup of tea, a table, a swath of grass, everything has a little, and there are places where it pools and flows in streams of energy. These are leylines, and I can...could...use these to act according to my will.”

  “So, no chanting or potions.”

  Henrik could not quite keep the disgust from his face and Gwen hastily added, “Okay, definitely not.”

  “I am not a witch, to be hobbled to spells and ritual,” Henrik said haughtily. “I am a creature of magic, and I only have to will it.” Then he ducked his head sheepishly. “I do find it somewhat simpler when I can focus myself physically in order to direct my intensions.”

  “Physically, you say,” Gwen said, and she swallowed.

  “Pointing at things, snapping, tracing a portal, that kind of thing,” Henrik explained.

  “Pointing,” Gwen repeated, nodding dazedly.

  He could drown in her dark eyes, if he let himself—

  POP!

  Henrik automatically moved to protect Gwen from the unknown source of the sudden, alarming sound, taking her arm to shelter her with his body from whatever explosion was happening behind him.

  As fast as he could move, she could move faster, and he was shocked to find that his hand was peeled from her arm and rotated backwards. Her opposite hand was somehow in a vulnerable place on his elbow applying just enough pressure to assert her absolute control of the situation.

  “It’s just the toast,” she told him, but she didn’t let go, and he didn’t want her to.

  “You are a truly admirable combatant,” Henrik said in awe.

  She let go of him abruptly and color rose in her cheeks as she turned back to the counter. “Um, thanks. Here, the toast needs butter, and the coffee’s almost ready.”

  The machine was indeed making a terrible noise, and steam and scent was rising from it.

  Gwen showed him a cabinet door that revealed a collection of cups and mugs, and selected two of them. His had a photograph of a dog like Fabio that said “I’m fabulous!” Hers was white, with the image of a black belt tied around it. On the back, it read: “A black belt is a white belt who never gives up.”

  The bread was crisped and a factor of magnitude more delicious when it was spread with soft butter.

  “We can put toppings on it, too,” Gwen told him. “Jam, peanut butter, cream cheese, there’s this chocolate spread called Nutella...”

  “It is amazing just like this,” Henrik told her. He was more enamored of the toast than he was of the coffee, which proved bitter and strong. “I fear your drink may be a taste I have not yet acquired,” he told her.

  Gwen suggested sugar and cream, which improved the beverage, but not enough that he took a second cup when she did.

  She showed him more of the appliances in the kitchen, and when the refrigerator made another crashing noise, she didn’t giggle or mock him as she opened the drawer in the bottom and showed him the automatic ice maker. “It makes a terrible racket,” she agreed. “I have nearly peed myself more than once when it went off when I wasn’t expecting it.”

  Henrik found himself gazing at the side of her face as she led him around the room, explaining each bizarre item and demonstrating their use. She was kind and patient, qualities that Henrik valued even above her skill at fighting and her beauty.

  “My key,” Henrik said, and when she turned from the blender to face him, the air between them was so charged that Henrik actually thought it was magic and was surprised when he could not touch it with his will. “My key,” he repeated in wonder. “My shieldmates, they are...attached to their keys. Emotionally. Physically.”

  If he thought her face was rosy before, it was scarlet now, but she only said quietly, “Yes.”

  Henrik tried to read her expression, and decided she was, like him, equally full of both yearning and reservation. “This is very new to both of us,” he said firmly. “I do not want you to feel undue pressure from the expectations of our peers.”

  Gwen gave a shy little laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

  “They have lacked greatly in subtlety,” Henrik said dryly. “But I do not wish to offer you disrespect or rush either of us. Will you permit me to court you properly?”

  “Court me?” Gwen’s astonishment surprised Henrik.

  “I am sure you have had many suitors,” Henrik said. “And my knowledge of the art is limited to literature, as I have never had the luxury of practice. I would gladly do three tasks you set me, though I doubt you will be in need of rescue.”

  Gwen’s slow smile was like sunlight. “Three tasks, oh, that’s adorable. I’ll have to see if I can find a glass mountain for you to climb.”

  8

  It wasn’t a glass mountain, but breakfast was definitely an uphill slide, for Gwen as much as Henrik.

  Fabio came skidding out of Daniella and Trey’s bedroom with a bark to raise the rest of the house. Vesta’s harmony from the upstairs bedroom preceded a sudden influx of sleepy knights and keys, who gathered in the kitchen for coffee.

  “Have you tried this?” Trey asked Henrik as he sipped from an alma mater mug for a university that Gwen had never heard of.

  “It did not live up to expectations,” Henrik replied. “I shall have water.”

  He got his own mug and used the filtered water dispenser in the fridge and Gwen was impressed. He was so smart and adaptable. It had to be utterly overwhelming in this strange, complicated world full of machines and technology.

  Heather made scrambled eggs with gumbo flavoring and served them with an array of hot sauces that Henrik gamely tried. He turned shades of red and pronounced them ‘refreshing,’ but ate his final bites only with salt.

  Toast on the other hand, he waxed eloquent over. “Such clever treatment! Such toppings!” He ate five pieces, slathered with a variety of choices, and declared his favorite peanut butter. The dogs begged shamelessly at his feet for the fragrant food.

  Gwen sat close beside him, enduring the knowing sideways looks from the others, and he offered her a bite of everything he ate. Was this courtship? Would she know what to do with courtship if it bit her on the foot? She gamely tasted a few things, but mostly stuck to her own food, and her own thoughts.

  “We’ll be telling people that you’re from a place called Norway,” she told him, as Trey started to clear their dishes. “That was Daniella’s original cover story for Trey.”

  “We’re sunk if someone who’s actually from Norway shows up in town,” Heather observes. “These guys are about as Norwegian as tomatoes.”

  “Are tomatoes not Norwegian?” Henrik asked Gwen in an aside.

  Gwen shrugged. “I don’t actually know. But they were a New World food, so not or
iginally, at least. I guess.”

  “New world?”

  Heather, as their best historian, stepped up to explain better than Gwen could, and Gwen pulled up a map on her phone to give it some context.

  Henrik stared at the phone in awe, forgetting to keep a careful space from Gwen, and she shivered as he touched it, and her hand by accident. “Oh, I have broken the portal?” he said in consternation as he mistakenly closed the map.

  “No, it’s okay,” Gwen said quickly. “You just switched programs.” She showed him the very basics in navigation, letting him hold the phone and turn it over in his big hands, fascinated.

  “Rez said it had likenesses of cats.”

  Gwen laughed. “That’s a big part of the Internet. Pictures of cats, selfies, and trolls.”

  “Are trolls also problematic here?” Henrik asked in all seriousness. “We battled a troublesome infestation of them once.”

  Gwen choked on the coffee she was sipping, realizing that he would mean literal trolls. “Er, no, these are just self-important people who are picking fights.”

  “I see,” Henrik said, as if he didn’t see at all.

  “Here,” Gwen said. “Let me show you the camera.”

  She snapped a photo of him, then showed him how it looked, to his astonishment, and for about thirty minutes, Henrik wandered around the room filling up the memory with terrible blurry photographs of mundane things. He also took photographs of his shieldmates. Trey lifted Daniella up onto his shoulder, to her laughing protest, and Heather warned Rez not to try the same.

  “May I take a photograph of you?” Henrik asked, inevitably.

  Gwen didn’t take many selfies and she hated herself in pictures, but he asked so kindly that she couldn’t deny him. “Sure,” she said, shrugging as if it didn’t matter.