The Golden Gryphon and the Bear Prince: An Epic Fantasy Romance (Heirs of Magic Book 1)

by Jeffe Kennedy

  A pained look crossed Lena’s face, though she tried to suppress it. A low snarl rolled out of an unsmiling Zephyr—which Berendina fortunately lacked the sensitive ears to hear—and Jak seized Zephyr’s hand, pretending to woo her with extravagantly loud compliments.

  Seizing the opportunity, Astar strode after Groningen, Berendina stubbornly clinging to his arm.

  ~ 23 ~

  “Your lips are red as fresh heart’s blood, your eyes a brighter sapphire than Zynda’s dragon scales, your skin as white as—”

  “What in Moranu are you going on about, Jak?” Zeph snapped, yanking her hand from his.

  “She’s back,” Lena said in a relieved tone, releasing her grip from Zeph’s knee under the table.

  “What do you mean?” Zeph demanded, then caught a glimpse of Astar’s tall form striding away from her with Dina attached to his arm like a life-sucking barnacle. She growled, rising to go after them. Lena and Jak grabbed her again.

  “Down, girl,” Jak warned, for once not joking.

  “No killing Astar’s potential brides,” Lena hissed in her ear. “Get the gríobhth under control.”

  Oh. True. She was close to shifting, talons aching to escape her fingers, beak ready to slash and kill a little blondie birdie named Dina. “Let me go,” she murmured, her vision sharpening to track the pair of them.

  “Astar will never forgive you if you cause an incident. You don’t want that,” Lena insisted. “Stella, some help here?”

  Stella shrugged in extravagant Tala fashion and didn’t budge.

  “Help with what?” Prince Henk asked, surfacing from his whispered conversation with Gen. Poor guy didn’t realize that most of the table had heard every word he’d said to Gen, most of it bragging about his wealth and rank. Gen had been doing a convincing job of looking dazzled. At least, Zeph hoped she was faking that. Henk followed Zeph’s gaze. “Does Prince Willy need convincing that our Dina is the ideal choice for high queen? I feel confident this is a sure thing.”

  “There are many names on the list of Astar’s potential brides,” Zeph informed him. This moment shouldn’t have come so soon. She’d only just tasted Astar—and there was no reason for him to choose the first princess to fasten her parasitic scolex into his handsome flesh.

  “None so accomplished as Dina,” Henk declared, starting to tick points off on his fingers. “Obviously, she’s beautiful, of the purest northern bloodlines, never a scandal in her family. Clever. Talented—paints and plays several instruments—and is extraordinarily well educated. She’s spent her entire life studying everything she needs to know to be the perfect bride for our Willy.”

  Zeph gave Henk a long stare. “Clearly there’s not much to do in Jorrit.”

  Behind him, Gen widened her eyes in a look of warning. Oblivious to Zeph’s sarcasm, Henk smiled condescendingly. “Ah, you are clearly not familiar with Jorrit.”

  “No,” Zeph purred. “I simply drink wine and look pretty while others devote themselves to the service of Her Majesty and the people who look to them for succor.”

  “Just so,” Henk said, nodding. “There are any number of amusements in Jorrit, including several winter sports. Those might be too demanding and scary for a delicate female like yourself, however. The ice-fishing tournaments are more low-key, though still intensely competitive, for example.”

  “Why would anyone fish for ice?” Zeph asked, baiting him now. If she couldn’t eat Dina, this Henk would do for a snack.

  He chortled. “Oh, dear girl. You misunderstand. A lovely lady like yourself probably doesn’t know where fish come from, but—”

  “Aren’t there fish in Lake Sullivan?” Gen interrupted. “Big ones that the sea—ah, lake creature lives off of?”

  Henk looked annoyed to be interrupted, but turned to Gen with an incredulous laugh. “Surely you don’t believe everything you hear.”

  Zeph missed the rest because Jak and Lena leapt to their feet, dragging her with them, Stella drifting along behind. “I don’t want to leave,” Zeph hissed.

  “Too bad,” Jak replied, steering them to the door. For a wiry guy, he had a good grip.

  “We’re saving you from yourself,” Lena added. “Stella is taking you flying.”

  “I am?” Stella sounded surprised.

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” Zeph snarled.

  “You are,” Lena told Stella, “because you need to get away from the press of people for a while. And you do, Zeph. You need to bleed energy off your gríobhth now, Zeph, before you really do kill someone. Stella will keep an eye on you.” Lena caught Zeph by the shoulders. “Believe me, I understand how you feel, but you need to cool down and think like a rational person, not like the gríobhth.”

  Zeph lost some of her fury at the sympathy in Lena’s eyes. “I always forget how well you understand shapeshifters.”

  Lena smiled without humor. “Way too much time and effort trying to make a relationship work with one. Go on and fly. If I could, I’d go with you. Jak and I will keep an eye on Astar.”

  “Thank you.” Abruptly overcome, she hugged Lena hard, then did the same with Jak.

  He stroked her hair, holding her with surprising care. “We’ve got your back, Zeph.”

  Hours later, when Zeph and Stella returned to Castle Elderhorst, night had fallen, and the sprawling structure blazed with torchlight. She and Stella had both taken owl forms to discreetly return to the land of observant mossbacks, but she’d spent most of the day in gríobhth form—and both Lena and Astar had been correct. She felt much better for it.

  Carienne was a spectacularly beautiful kingdom, even in winter. Well, for all she knew, it was ugly without the blanket of snow and ice. But it had been a clear day, her gríobhth form impervious to the cold, and the time aloft had given her space to think. Maybe it had partly been the grandeur of the landscape, the snowy hills and the fog rolling in the valleys like a misty sea, but she’d gained a bit of perspective.

  Much as she hated to admit it, Gen was right. Zeph had bitten off far more than even the sharpest beak could slice into ribbons. Even if Astar didn’t choose Dina, then—as Zeph herself had pointed out to the odious Henk—there were more names on that list. And Astar had been tasked to meet them as they traveled, to pick one to marry. Which meant that Zeph would face this blood-boiling drive to disembowel each and every one. Over and over.

  Even if the woman was someone Zeph would otherwise like, the gríobhth in her would want to rend her limb from limb the moment she laid hands on Astar.

  There was only one solution: to inure herself to the truth that Astar wasn’t hers, and never would be. Another thing that Gen had been right about, and Astar too, though Zeph would never admit it to either of them—it might’ve been easier to convince herself if she and Astar hadn’t started. Though the thought of not having the last few nights with him made her want to cry.

  She and Stella landed on the balcony outside Stella’s room, the one they’d taken off from, shifted into forms like the smaller domestic cats of the castle—just in case any servants lingered inside—and scooted through the door Stella opened with her sorcery. Once they verified the room was empty, they shifted to human form. Like Zeph, Stella had already dressed for a ball, with her hair up and her grandmother Salena’s rubies dangling from her ears.

  Zeph had yet to have her other two gowns fixed up to cache again, so she was down to one: a silver-trimmed black velvet. At least it suited her mood. Stella looked her over, absorbing her outfit and, no doubt, assessing her emotional state.

  Calm, resigned, already grieving the loss to come. Noble, even.

  “You’re going to tell him that it’s time to end your affair,” Stella said, not a question, her gray eyes full of sorrow.

  “I have to,” Zeph replied. “I can’t keep doing this to both of us.”

  Stella nodded somberly.

  “Look at Rhy,” Zeph said, as if Stella had argued. “I thought he wouldn’t be able to stay away from Lena, but he has. If he can ex
ercise restraint, so can I.”

  Stella cocked her head, considering that. “Rhy stayed away from Lena for seven years—and it wasn’t out of self-restraint, but cowardice.”

  That brought up Zeph short. “Are you saying I’m being a coward?”

  “I was talking about Rhy,” Stella replied with a shrug. “Only you can know what’s in your heart.”

  Yeah, only her and the sorceress empath standing in front of her. “I’m trying to do the honorable thing here,” Zeph protested. “I’ll admit that’s a new thing for me, but I’m going to let Astar go for… for the good of the realm.” She flung her hands up in the air as she said it. It wasn’t easy sounding sincere when you didn’t believe in the rules in the first place.

  “What about Astar’s good?” Stella asked somberly.

  “That too,” Zeph replied immediately. “Everyone agrees I’m not good for him.”

  “Do they?” Stella could be so very mild and neutral, her gray eyes shimmering the same opaque silver as her gown.

  “The exact opinion varies,” Zeph conceded, “but the inarguable element here is that there is a list of women that Astar can marry and I’m not on it.”

  Stella gave her a look of wide-eyed—and deliberate—surprise. “I thought you didn’t want forever from Astar.”

  “It just figures he tells you everything,” Zeph grumbled.

  “I know Astar’s heart like my own,” Stella replied, confessing nothing. “Are you saying you would marry Astar if you were an approved name on the list?”

  “No!” Though, if he weren’t going to be high king… “It’s not worth puzzling over, since my name isn’t on the list.”

  “How do you know—have you seen the list?”

  “I don’t need to see it. I’m not someone Ursula and her advisers would consider an appropriate high queen. I’m not accomplished.” Or one to devote herself to the service of anything.

  “Oh, fuck that,” Stella said, eyes flashing and magic gathering with her anger. “For someone who’s otherwise gloriously, and deservedly self-confident, you really don’t give yourself credit.”

  It took Zeph a moment to get over her shock and gather her thoughts. “I… don’t?”

  “To begin with, you are one of the most talented shapeshifters in the world.”

  “So are you and Gen. And you’re a sorceress and healer, and she has more forms than I do. Besides, I was born this way.”

  “Neither Gen nor I, nor any living shapeshifter I know of has your skill with taking objects with you when you shift and retrieving them at will from your cache.”

  Zeph shrugged. “That just takes practice—and a fondness for pretty dresses and hairstyles.”

  Stella laughed and pointed at her. “You just simultaneously refused to take credit for your accomplishments on the grounds that they’re inborn and also just a matter of practice.”

  “So what?” Zeph snapped, her peaceful feelings from flying fading quickly.

  “You just proved my point that you don’t give yourself credit. You excuse it all away. My point is also this: You are sensual, vivacious, and free-spirited in all the ways that Astar isn’t. You are also courageous, loyal, inventive, and focused when you want to be. We couldn’t have defeated the stone giant without you—and not only because of your ferocious bravery, but because of your cleverness. How are these not excellent qualities in a high queen? Far more important than painting and music.”

  Zeph gaped at this unusual speech from Stella. “But I’m Tala.” But I’m a monster.

  “And Tala are citizens of the Thirteen Kingdoms.”

  Now, anyway.

  “None of this includes the most important thing, the one that eclipses all else. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe what Astar needs is someone to be a real partner to him? Being high king will be difficult. He needs someone who wants him for himself, not for his crown. Someone who doesn’t take him too seriously. A woman who will love him enough to want to kill to keep him and who’s willing to give him up to save him.”

  Zeph had no response to that. Nothing sprang to mind, except… “But I don’t love him.”

  Stella gave her a long look, one that went through her in that sorcerous way. Then she nodded once, crisply. “We should get down to the ball.”

  Astar was waiting for her. Oh, he of course was also fulfilling his duties, participating in yet another of the endless conversations that seemed to form the bulk of his life. See? That was another accomplishment she lacked. She knew she’d never be able to stand around and talk talk talk.

  She also knew that, though Astar was paying attention to some diatribe that had Groningen gesturing wildly, he’d also positioned himself to be able to see the entrance to the ballroom. No Dina in sight. As soon as Astar spotted her and Stella’s arrival, he caught her eye and precipitously excused himself from the conversation. The instant attention had her preening a little inside.

  “I wondered if you two were coming back,” he teased as he reached them, though his voice held a hint of relief. “Zephyr, you look gorgeous. Like the goddess of night made flesh.” He bent over her hand, kissing the back of it, then—with his hair falling in a discreet golden veil—turned her hand over and placed a sensual kiss in her palm. A hot shiver went through her. Maybe she wouldn’t end things tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough. One more night.

  “What about me?” Stella demanded. “Am I a dusty gruntling beneath notice?”

  “You’re my sister,” he said with a fond grin. “You are beautiful like a painting. I don’t see anything else.” He tucked Zeph’s hand in the crook of his elbow. “You promised me a dance.”

  “Fine.” She sighed, pretending to being long-suffering, but after being away from Astar all day, the opportunity to be in his arms—for any reason—made her nearly giddy. She’d been about to ask where Dina was, but she didn’t want to poke the bear for no reason. Or, at least, not for that reason. “But you’ll have to teach me this mossback prancing and mincing.”

  “I can do that,” he said, summer-sky eyes filled with anticipation as he led her onto a clear space on the dance floor and guided her hands into position. “It’s gratifying to be able to teach you something for a change,” he murmured sensually.

  She flushed—surely with the heat of desire, not some sort of girlish fluster—and studied the position of her hands, one folded into his, the other on his delightfully bulging biceps. “What next?” she asked, deliberately using the phrase from their sexual interludes.

  His face hardened with answering desire. “Follow my lead.” Slowly, at half the time of the music, he eased her into the small steps, counting the beats quietly for her, eyes holding hers. She’d grown familiar enough with his body that following along felt as natural as breathing. The dance required space between them, but that structure somehow made the few points of contact between them burn even hotter. His hand at the small of her back felt like it might scorch through even the heavy silver brocade.

  She hadn’t expected this kind of connection in such a formal-looking dance. Only his handsome face, those beautiful eyes, seemed to be in focus, while the rest of the world blurred away. It might be only the two of them, inside a bubble of intimacy, the intensity of his regard almost more than she could bear.

  Astar’s gaze fell to her mouth, searingly hot, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her right there, in front of everyone. But he jerked his gaze away, clearing his throat and giving her a wry smile. “You do look lovely tonight,” he said in his most elegant tones, then added, “particularly the shoes.” His eyes sparkled with teasing light.

  “I’m back to trying to behave,” she acknowledged ruefully. “My resolutions in that direction never seem to last long. I apologize for this morning.”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he assured her, gaze roving over her face. “You were simply being you.”

  She managed not to wince, not at all sure what had possessed her to be so capricious as to defy the mossback dres
s norms. She’d been all ready to wear a proper gown and shoes, but had felt defiant and rebellious at the last moment. As her mother was fond of saying, her lack of impulse control came from her father, and that wasn’t a virtue. She’d always scoffed at her mother’s scolding, but—for the first time—she felt vaguely ashamed of herself. Would it be so hard to be someone Astar could be proud of? “Being me isn’t ideal, I know,” she admitted. “I’m going to change, I promise.”

  “What do you mean—change what?” He looked genuinely perplexed—and her heart burst with warm affection, rather like an overripe grape in the sun.

  “We both know I’m supposed to be doing better at this, blending in and such,” she replied.

  A faint frown formed between his golden brows. “Who said so?”

  “For starters, it’s our cover story, isn’t it? A group of pleasure-seeking nobles on a jaunt. No scary shapeshifters here. No monsters in sheep’s clothing. Nothing to be alarmed about.”

  With the hand pressed to the small of her back, he eased her closer, his body heat suffusing her across the stiff distance of the dance. “Who better to epitomize a pleasure-seeking noble than a beautiful Tala woman who comes to breakfast barefoot and drinking sparkling wine?”

  She had to laugh. He did have a point. Still. Focusing on the hollow at the base of his throat, where his skin would taste of sweet and salt if only she could lick him there, she wrestled the turbulent emotions leaking from her heart, now that it had unexpectedly burst. “I don’t want to embarrass you is all,” she said, the admission painful.

  “Oh, Zephyr.” He abandoned the formal structure of their arms and folded their hands in, drawing her against him so her head lay in the fold of his shoulder, as she slept sometimes with him—when they did sleep. “You could never embarrass me,” he said into her ear, his chest rumbling with the words. “And you being you is ideal. You are like the wind, like the mountain peaks, and like the lush tropical flowers of Annfwn. You are a force of nature, maybe the one person I know who is fully herself. You are the fresh air that blows into my life and makes me realize how stuffy I’ve let it become. Please don’t change because you think it’s something I want. I don’t. You are perfect exactly the way you are.”