“And who will die in the meantime?” Branwyne says. “This country has spent too long under the rule of a nervous queen.”
“Nervous?” I snort. “You have met my mother, haven’t you?”
She continues as if she hasn’t heard me. She isn’t making an argument here—she’s making a speech, one I suspect she’s been practicing ever since my aunt died.
“Tamarel needs a decisive leader,” she continues. “One who is not mother and father both to her wayward children. I can be the queen Tamarel needs. I see a threat to my people, and I annihilate it.”
With that, she charges at Tiera, her weapon raised. I’m only caught off guard for a heartbeat. Then I rush at her, my sword drawn.
Malric gets there first. He knocks Branwyne aside. She swings on him. Blood flies up. Malric’s blood. I scream in rage. She swings again, but I’m there, and our swords clang.
Branwyne is a half-head taller than me. A grown woman. An adult fighter. As I parry her sword, sweat trickles down my forehead, threatening to drip into my eye. If I blink, she’ll see her opening and take it.
Behind me, I hear Kaylein. I don’t know what she’s saying. Blood pounds in my ears. The farmer snaps something. I don’t hear that either. I’m looking into Branwyne’s eyes. There’s no hate there. I almost wish there was. Instead, she barely seems to see me. I am a child, a small obstacle standing between her and the throne.
I bow my head. I let the sweat droplets fall as I step back, sword lowering. Branwyne sniffs and begins to lower her weapon. Then I attack. I fly at her, ebony sword flashing so fast she can only parry. Rage fills her eyes, and that rage makes her clumsy. Every time I strike, she gets angrier, and she fumbles.
She’s a decent fighter. In a tournament, she would do very well. This isn’t a tournament. It’s her against a smaller, faster opponent wielding a legendary blade.
Then she does the last thing I expect.
She swings her sword at Jacko.
The jackalope hasn’t run into the fray. He knows better. He’s racing back and forth, chirping in excitement and worry, when Branwyne turns on him and swings.
I scream and throw myself at her, and at the last second, she wheels, and I see my mistake. She doesn’t smile. Her face is set in grim determination, eyes blazing with the thrill of victory as her sword swings on me.
There’s a shriek. More than a shriek. So many sounds at once—Kaylein’s shout and Dain’s snarl and Malric’s roar, but above it all, I hear Tiera shriek. Branwyne’s sword arcs toward me…and Tiera’s beak clamps down on her forearm.
Branwyne tries to spin on the gryphon, but Tiera holds her fast. Branwyne doesn’t so much as flinch, seeing a gryphon gripping her arm. She is brave, and I will grant her that. A gryphon has her by the sword arm, and she only turns to me and says, “Tell your pet to release me, Rowan.”
I sheathe my sword and walk over. “Allow me to take your weapon.”
“What?”
“Allow me to take it from you and return it at the castle.”
Her eyes flash. “I will not release my sword to you or anyone else.”
“And I will not tell her to release you until I am certain you will not be able to retaliate against us.”
Her lips curls. “I would not have hurt you. I had you dead to rights, and that was enough.”
“Release your sword.”
“No. This beast is a menace—”
“Release—”
She swings her sword. It’s an awkward move, but she tries, her arm wrenching in Tiera’s grip, the sword rising my way. Tiera’s beak clamps with a snap. Branwyne gasps. Her sword falls, hitting the ground with a thunk. Branwyne spins, her other fist lashing out, boots kicking.
“Tiera!” I shout. “Release!”
Branwyne’s fist hits Tiera in the eye just as the gryphon begins to let go. Tiera shrieks and snaps, beak tearing into Branwyne’s arm as the young woman screams.
I grab Tiera in both hands and pull her away as the others rush in. I don’t need to drag Tiera off. She bit down in pain and fear, and that is not her fault. None of this is her fault. But as I take her aside, I see Branwyne’s bloodied arm, and I know that what Tiera meant to do isn’t important.
My gryphon has hurt someone. Badly hurt someone.
Nothing else matters.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I’m home in my room, huddled in front of the fire with Jacko on my lap. Malric lies close enough for me to feel the heat of him. His wound needed a few stitches, and he’s been quiet since our trip. Malric is never noisy, but this is a different kind of quiet, almost thoughtful. I catch him watching me a lot, as if he’s weighing the actions of today, deciding whether I’ve messed up badly enough that he can justifiably abandon me.
Rhydd’s here too, sitting on the floor. He’s holding Chikako, who keeps making moves my way, only to be warned off by Jacko’s growls. I clutch Jacko tight. Maybe too tight. He doesn’t complain, just snuggles in, making that purring sound of his, and if it’s a little jagged, a little forced, I pretend not to notice.
“Someone released Tiera,” Rhydd says. “I walked past her pen after you left, and she was definitely bound. If it wasn’t Branwyne, it was Kethan.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think Kethan would do that.”
“Then it was either Branwyne or someone who supports her for queen. They released the gryphon knowing she’d fly after you, and Branwyne followed. If the little boy hadn’t come out just then, she’d have antagonized Tiera herself and forced her to attack.”
“I don’t think Branwyne intended to be attacked.”
“No, I just don’t think she intended to get hurt. She wanted Tiera to go after her so she’d have an excuse to slay her. Prove herself worthy of the throne. The boy only makes things worse. I’m sure the farmer lamed that khrysomallos. He thought he’d make his fortune with it, but a beast is smart enough to know who’s responsible for its injury. The farmer is a horrible person…one who’ll take Branwyne’s side, knowing Heward will reward him.”
“None of that matters,” I say.
Rhydd goes quiet. Then he murmurs, “It should.”
“But it doesn’t, does it?”
He moves beside me, puts an arm around my shoulders, and pulls me against him. “I’m so sorry, Ro. This isn’t your fault. It’s not Tiera’s either.”
“She only killed that sheep because she was hungry. She only bit Branwyne to protect me. She’s too young to know better, too young to be taught better. And none of that changes the fact that she is a gryphon, one who’s getting bigger—and more dangerous—every day, and soon Branwyne will be right. Tiera will be a danger to everyone around her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” I lean against his shoulder. “I also know what I need to do.”
As I tell him my plan, sadness shadows his eyes, but he doesn’t argue. He just puts both arms around me and pulls me into a hug and says, “You really would have made an excellent queen, Ro.”
“But I’m the royal monster hunter. And now I need to act like it.”
* * *
My mother is in a council meeting to discuss Tiera’s fate. She needs to hear everyone else’s story before mine, or Heward will claim she favors her children.
As for Branwyne, her arm is badly gashed. We had wrapped it at the scene and then Dain rode ahead to bring Dr. Fendrel from the castle. The doctor met us partway and stitched Branwyne’s arm. He says it will be fine, but that’s another of those things that don’t matter. My gryphon attacked the next person in line for the throne. Even if it heals well, Branwyne may never wield a sword properly.
Branwyne has given her account. So has Kaylein and the farmer, who had been very eager to tell his tale. Dain has just finished his when I slip in. My mother dismisses him, and as he passes, he sneaks a look my way, but I pretend not to
see it.
After Dain brought Dr. Fendrel, he tried to speak to me. I found reasons to avoid him for the rest of the trip, and I have continued doing so. When he tries again to catch my attention, I walk right past him, and he takes a seat next to Kaylein at the witness table.
Until then, she’s a girl playing with her pets. You said so yourself.
You told me she wasn’t fit to be anything but royal zookeeper.
Dain still hasn’t denied he said those words, and that cuts deep as a warakin’s tusks. Worse, I can’t even pretend I never saw this coming. Dain has said things like that right to my face, and I’d made the mistake of thinking he was just challenging me to do better. Like Wilmot, who will snap at me in private lessons yet praises my skill to others. Pointing out my flaws is a training tool, and Wilmot never even does it in front of Dain. So I thought that’s what Dain was doing.
Now I realize the truth. Dain doesn’t respect me as a hunter…and he’s been saying so to my worst enemies.
“I don’t think we summoned you yet, Princess Rowan,” Heward says as I walk toward the dais. “Your mother is in a council meeting. You can’t just sneak in and ask whether you may have a honey cake.”
“If I wanted a honey cake, I would take one,” I say, fixing him with my best queen-in-training look. “This meeting is to decide the fate of my gryphon, yes?”
“Yes,” Mom says carefully, “and you will have the opportunity to defend the beast soon, Rowan.”
“I’m not here to defend her,” I say. “I appreciate any testimony that has attempted to absolve my gryphon of blame, but I am here to say that it isn’t necessary. What the gryphon intended doesn’t matter. She was loose in our kingdom and could have wreaked serious havoc. She can no longer be contained. The fact she only killed one sheep is a blessing. She frightened a child. She could have killed him if she’d become confused, and as a young monster, she is easily confused, which led to Branwyne’s injury. That, too, could have been far worse.”
I straighten, feeling the weight of the ebony sword on my back. “I am the royal monster hunter. Not the royal monster keeper. Nor even the royal monster scientist. I believe that my studies and my bond with beasts will help our understanding of them, but my first duty is to protect my people from the immediate danger posed by monsters. My gryphon has become a danger, and she is my responsibility. I acknowledge that she has grown much faster than I imagined, and so she must be returned to the mountains. Immediately.”
I unsheathe my sword and hold it out as I bend on one knee, my head dropping. “I hereby renounce any claim on the gryphon and pledge my sword to ensuring she is returned to her proper habitat and, if that cannot be done, I will…” I force the words. “I will end her life swiftly and humanely.”
Mom tells me to rise, her voice thick with emotion. There’s pain in her eyes. But there is pride, too, her face glowing with it. That same look shines from Berinon’s eyes as he stands, expressionless and ramrod-straight.
Before anyone can speak, my great-aunt and council member, Liliath, walks over and embraces me, whispering, “Your mother cannot do this, so I will. Jannah would be so proud of you.”
My gaze shifts to Wilmot, who stands at the edge of the council. He meets my gaze and nods, and relief floods through me.
I’ve made the right choice. As hard as it was, I’ve done it.
“A lovely sentiment, Princess Rowan,” Heward says as Liliath returns to her seat. “However, I believe I speak for the council when I say that you are proposing an expensive and dangerous expedition, when a quick and painless execution seems the obvious answer.”
Liliath opens her mouth to argue, but I beat her to it.
“I understand that,” I say. “And so I will complete my proposal now. As part of my trials, I need to survive in the mountains alone. However, I have never even been in the mountains with others. I suggest that we combine this task with my training. I will personally return the gryphon, along with Wilmot and any of my companions who wish to accompany me.”
Mom’s cheek ticks, and I know she’s biting back an argument. Our eyes meet, and she nods. I must complete the trials. To do that, I must first have experience in the mountains. She cannot protect me from that.
“A sound plan,” Liliath says. “Now, let’s put it to a vote.”
* * *
There’s debate and discussion before the vote, as the council members work out the exact details. They quickly declare that Rhydd may not come along. He won’t be happy, but he’s the royal heir first and my brother second. Also, Heward will only allow one of my human companions to join the party because the kingdom can’t afford to send, as he says, “extra babysitters” on this mission. I can have Wilmot, one human companion and one palace guard.
After some debate, the vote is unanimous in favor of the quest. Even Heward sees no advantage in disagreeing. Maybe he hopes I’ll perish along the route, and the throne and sword will pass to his children that way.
“Princess Rowan may select her companion,” Liliath says. “I’m presuming you’ll want Dain, your highness?”
Before today, Dain would have been my choice. He’s the hunter in training. But now all I hear is his mockery, all I see are his scowls, all I envision is endless days of him grumbling and snapping about being “forced” on this trip.
I’d like to travel with someone who actually wants to be there, someone who’ll make it a fun adventure. Rhydd would do that, but we both understand that our future will not hold many joint adventures. Our mother—and our kingdom—cannot afford to send us both into danger.
I choose my words with care. However hurt I am at the moment, I still would never embarrass Dain.
“Dain would be the obvious choice, and I would love to have him along. He is an excellent hunter and woodsman. We are heading into the mountains, though, and we are taking the gryphon. I have a companion with mountain experience, one the gryphon knows better. I choose Alianor.”
I watch Dain out of the corner of my eye. When I start speaking, his expression is blank, as he waits to hear me confirm that he’ll be my choice, so he can roll his eyes and grumble in response. When I finish, he stares, just stares, and I catch a flash of hurt and confusion on his face before he looks away and squares his shoulders.
“I understand,” he says gruffly. “Princess Rowan is correct. Lady Alianor is the better choice for this journey.”
“Your highness?”
I turn to see Alianor. I hadn’t noticed her earlier, tucked into the shadows of the audience chamber. She steps forward, her head bowed. “I am very flattered by Princess Rowan’s request. I consider her a great friend, and I would dearly love to join her on this adventure, but I fear my studies occupy too much of my attention. Perhaps another time.”
“Then it is settled,” Liliath says. “While the princess’s reasoning was sound, it appears Dain will be accompanying her after all.”
I glance Dain’s way. Cold eyes meet mine for one heartbeat. As he stalks from the room, I realize there’s one thing worse than putting up with Dain’s moods for a week in the mountains: putting up with his moods when he knows I didn’t want him along.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
That evening I’m in Courtois’s private pasture, each of us keeping one wary eye on the other. I’m only here for Sunniva, because my pegasus has no concept of “private” property. Or maybe she understands the concept perfectly well. She knows this is Courtois’s territory, and that the unicorn, lacking wings, can do little about her intrusion. At worst, he’ll charge her, and that is a merry game indeed. After failing to impale the young pegasus with his horn—despite multiple attempts that nearly stopped my heart—he has decided to pretend he doesn’t see her.
Rhydd jokes that Sunniva sticks around for the free food. She’s on the same diet as Courtois, which is the best the castle has to offer. It’s the grooms who spoil her. She is a peg
asus, after all—a beast so rare most of our staff never expected to see one in their lifetime.
I convince myself, though, that I’m the reason she stays. I’d like to think it’s because she recognizes me as a worthy companion who will protect and love her forever. However, I’m pretty sure it’s the grooming.
As a princess, I get my share of pampering. Maids wash and braid my hair. Manicures and pedicures keep my nails ballroom-ready. Weekly massages work out my training-sore muscles. I would be lying if I said I didn’t love all that, so I cannot begrudge Sunniva her own princess moments.
There are few things Sunniva likes more than her daily grooming, and if I’m late, she’ll come find me. Once, when I was preoccupied with an archery lesson, she snatched my arrow in midair and brought me her currycomb instead, which didn’t make nearly as good a projectile.
I’m late that day, having had to attend the council meeting. As I brush her, the sun drops and my mood drops with it.
I fear my studies occupy too much of my attention. Perhaps another time.
Those words sting. Really sting. I invited a new friend on an adventure…and she’d rather stay home and study. Worse, Alianor is far from a conscientious student. How many times has she tried to entice me out for a bit of fun while I was buried in my own lessons?
Have I misinterpreted our friendship? Maybe it truly is more about getting close to “Princess Rowan” rather than “Person Rowan.” Maybe I’m so desperate for a friend that I’ve made a fool of myself, thinking Alianor actually liked me.
And if that hurts, well, I just did the same thing to Dain, didn’t I? I rejected him. Except I have reason for that. After what he said to Branwyne, I can’t trust him.
Like Alianor, Dain isn’t here by choice. I need Wilmot’s training, and Wilmot needs the castle’s medical care, and so Dain, who is Wilmot’s charge, is stuck with me. Maybe that’s why he’s become increasingly ill-tempered. He’s been forced into false friendship with a girl he doesn’t actually like very much.
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