Rise of the Gryphon (Belador)

by Kenyon, Sherrilyn

  “Unfortunately, yes. And you have no idea what creatures she and Cathbad have accumulated here in six hundred plus years. If she destroys the Belador power base, she’ll be able to unleash things worse than demons on the mortal world.”

  “But how can she beat the curse if the other queens didn’t before they died as scheduled?”

  “By becoming immortal. Once Brina is dead and a Medb—Kizira—has control of Treoir, Flaevynn and Cathbad believe that either the cycle of the curse that imprisons them in TÅμr Medb will be broken or Kizira will bring back water from the river beneath Treoir that will turn them immortal. Either way, they expect to be able to leave here at that point.”

  “I will die before helping turn those two immortal,” Evalle declared under her breath, then ran back over something he’d said a moment ago. “If we all have the same blood, what makes five of us different?”

  Tristan seemed reluctant to answer, but he said, “Your father was in the military, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So were mine and Petrina’s. We’re not blood brother and sister. We were both captured by a troll when we were teens and stuck in cages. Together, we figured out how to escape.”

  Evalle nodded. “I can see why you’re close.”

  “Before I was captured, again, by the Beladors and stuck in a spellbound prison, I was searching for other Alterants. I found out about three more, all with fathers in the military. I’ll bet your mother got pregnant after your father was stationed in one of a handful of places.”

  “Don’t know. I told you she died at my birth and my father’s never spoken to me.”

  “Right. I had thought the Beladors had found men with Belador blood and cast a spell on their offspring while we were in the womb. That was before the Medb brought me here. Now I’ve finally put it all together. The Medb figured since Beladors are born warriors, they would gravitate to the military. The women who didn’t were alphas and attracted to alphas, thus they were drawn to the military environment.”

  “Reasonable guess, since we have a lot of Beladors in militaries in allied countries.”

  Tristan chuckled softly, a sarcastic sound. “They didn’t guess. Their depth of planning over many centuries and amount of resources would scare you.”

  “Why would they let you know any of this?”

  “I’ve worked hard to convince Kizira that I’m on board with her plans as long as my sister is safe. I’ve been on the outs with the Beladors for a long time, so convincing Flaevynn and Cathbad of my loyalty wasn’t that hard.”

  Evalle hoped he really was only acting loyal. “You were saying about the Medb knowing where to find Beladors in the military,” she said, prompting him to continue.

  “Alpha males are drawn to strong women. Kizira said the sperm of male descendants of Cú Chulainn and a Medb witch had been held in a spelled cask for all these years. Thirty years ago, a druid with Medb warlock blood traveled to fertility clinics located near military locations where Beladors were known to reside. As a Celtic druid, he could identify Belador descendants, even those who were not warriors.”

  “Let me guess. This happened around the time we were conceived.”

  “Right.”

  She waved him on.

  “The druid used majik and compulsion to guarantee only Belador descendants were impregnated, plus he placed a spell over the non-Belador husbands of Belador females so that those humans could not impregnate the women. Kizira said the Medb speculated that not all inseminations had taken, only those destined to become Alterants.”

  Evalle was sickened. “So using the sperm of descendants of Cú Chulainn and a Medb witch, unsuspecting Belador women were inseminated without their knowledge.”

  “That’s the way I understand it.”

  Had Evalle’s mother gone to a clinic without her father’s knowledge? Evalle had once read in a magazine where a woman desperate to get pregnant had gone to be inseminated without telling her husband because he’d refused to consider the problem was his and go for testing.

  She’d never known her father, but he’d abandoned her, so she had no problem thinking that might have been what happened to her mother.

  If that was true, Evalle’s mother had been wrongly accused of infidelity. Only guilty of wanting a baby.

  Tristan kept explaining. “Kizira has the ability of precognition. She saw that five children, or Alterants, would be more powerful than the others.”

  “What makes the five of us with golden heads so special?”

  Regret darkened his gaze. “The five mothers who would bear powerful Beladors were inseminated with sperm from the only descendant of Cú Chulainn and Maeve, the original Medb queen.” In the sad voice of someone delivering news of a death, he said, “You’re one half Belador, but you’re also a direct descendant of the most powerful Medb queen ever, and that blood rules you.”

  Evalle couldn’t form a thought past the idea that she was Medb.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Evalle can’t be trusted!”

  The walls shook with Flaevynn’s outburst. Kizira didn’t flinch, having endured much worse ones in the past. To be honest, she’d initiated this conversation and raised the doubt in Flaevynn’s mind about Evalle.

  Kizira glanced at Cathbad, thinking her da could step in any time and help. No such luck. “If the proph . . . curse calls for those five to lead the charge, then you need all five.”

  “You just said Evalle is already trying to fight the simple compulsion spell,” Flaevynn argued. “She’ll find a way to screw up our plans.”

  “Not once she’s fully under our control. Tristan has followed orders without a problem.”

  “Conlan was compelled, too, but he proved to be a disappointment.”

  Kizira could not argue that point. She’d compelled Conlan to aid her in trapping Tristan, which had gone well. In fact, Conlan had been coming along just fine until Flaevynn had pushed him to service her sexually and he’d balked.

  She’d sent him to the dungeon for that.

  Flaevynn moved around her private domain, floating a foot above the ground, back and forth in a frenzied motion. With so much energy swirling around the room, lightning sparked from above her waterfall where the water connected with the electricity in the air.

  Kizira hoped her timing was right. “That is why we must test Evalle’s loyalty.”

  If Flaevynn refused and Kizira argued, Flaevynn would become suspicious and not support Kizira’s plan. Or throw her back in the dungeon.

  Still waiting on you to jump in, Da. She pinned him with a testy look.

  Cathbad held his hands out to each side. “What test can we do with so little time left?”

  Flaevynn paused in whipping around the room and appeared in front of Kizira and Cathbad, addressing him first. “You said we needed her”—she pointed a wicked finger at Kizira—“to bond with these beasts. She’s the one fully in control of them. This makes it Kizira’s problem to bring me proof of Evalle’s loyalty, or I’ll turn them over to Tristan.”

  That could not happen. Thankfully, Kizira’s unbound hair hid the sweat that trickled down the back of her neck. She hadn’t told Cathbad her plan, and wouldn’t. He’d probably send her to the dungeon himself if he knew what she was going to attempt.

  Flaevynn shifted the full force of her glare to Kizira, who decided now was the time to gain Flaevynn’s confidence. “I will bring you proof and I will lead the gryphons, who will deliver the victory you expect.”

  “Then what are you doing still standing here?”

  Glad to leave, Kizira vanished from Flaevynn’s sight and teleported to the small chamber where she’d sent Evalle to meet with Tristan.

  Tristan merely blinked at her arrival, but Evalle turned a glare bursting with hatred toward her. Kizira asked Tristan, “What’s going on?”

  “I just informed Evalle of her dual heritage.”

  “How was that pertinent to the attack?”

  “The sooner Evalle realizes whose te
am she’s playing for, the sooner she’ll get with the game plan.”

  Kizira gave him a silent kudo for possibly helping her cause. She told Evalle, “Queen Flaevynn has requested proof of your loyalty.”

  Evalle snickered. “Tell her not to hold her breath, unless she can die of suffocation. Then, by all means, go for it.”

  “Leave us, Tristan.”

  He vacated the space immediately. When Evalle turned to Kizira, the Belador warrior sent the Medb priestess a glare that dared anyone to push her another inch right now.

  Kizira might sympathize with her if she had the time to spend on ridiculous emotions. Evalle hadn’t spent her entire life being ground under a Medb thumb. “As for your DNA, none of us gets a choice in whose genes we carry.”

  “Telling me I’m part Medb will not make me one.”

  “True, but saying that to Flaevynn is not wise.”

  “Tell that bitch to—”

  “Shut. Up.”

  Evalle paused. “That works.”

  “I meant you. We’re running out of time too quickly to waste it on your smart mouth. You know where you came from. Deal with it and get over it.”

  “You seem to think I actually care about your schedule.”

  “You will,” Kizira assured her.

  “Right. Tristan told me how once you turn me into a Medb zombie slave and compel me, I’ll dance on your puppet strings. Go for it, but know that I’m taking everyone down with me if you try to make me kill Beladors.”

  Jaw tight, Kizira muttered, “Your stubborn attitude may kill more than the Medb.”

  Evalle pulled back at that, confused.

  Kizira kept an eye on the walls that would lighten in color when anyone touched this space with majik, be it teleporting in or Flaevynn snooping with her scrying wall.

  Crossing the area between her and Evalle, Kizira ignored the aggression building around Evalle. “Have you not realized that some of the times you and the Beladors have defeated . . . your enemy . . . you had a bit of luck on your side?”

  “Enemy? Would that be the Medb?” Evalle asked, as if speaking to an imbecile.

  What qualities did Quinn see in this woman that made him care about her?

  Kizira held her temper. She had no time for angry rants and could not risk Flaevynn’s tossing her into the dungeon again. “A man once wanted to ask me questions I could not answer due to my being compelled, so he created a game of words.”

  Watching Evalle for a reaction, Kizira lost hope in her lack of immediate enthusiasm. Did Evalle not realize she was being offered a chance to do what Kizira could not—save Quinn?

  How had Macha not killed this one yet?

  Evalle dialed back her urge to retaliate against all things Medb and considered what Kizira was saying. The priestess hadn’t outed Lanna and had answered Evalle’s questions, even allowing her to talk to Tristan in this warded room.

  What was Kizira trying to tell her now? How to get around a compulsion spell to gain information? Was that how Quinn had dug up information during the Svart troll attacks on Atlanta last week?

  Evalle had suspected Quinn’s intel had come from Kizira. Now it made sense.

  She didn’t want to feel anything akin to respect for Kizira, but the woman had to face worse than being sent to a dungeon if Flaevynn ever found out that Kizira was aiding her enemy. “So you’re saying you’ll be straight with me?”

  Kizira’s eyes brightened with hope. “Take care to ask the right questions.”

  “Okay, I understand. No asking direct questions you’re compelled against answering.” Evalle chewed lightly on her thumb, thinking, then dropped her hand. She didn’t know yet how she would get word to the Beladors, but she needed a better time frame than what was left of this forty-eight-hour window. Probably a day at the most in the mortal world.

  Evalle started with, “When would be an optimum time for someone to start a war?”

  Kizira shook her head.

  “Crap. How can a Belador survive an attack on Treoir?”

  Huffing out a breath in irritation, Kizira shook her head again.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have used the name Treoir. “What would prevent gryphons from reaching a mystical island?”

  Kizira grabbed her head. “You are terrible at games.”

  “Maybe because I. Don’t. Play. Games! You freakin’ tell me what I need to know.”

  “I can’t tell you what I’m compelled to keep secret.”

  Evalle growled and leaned toward her, out of patience. “Then tell me something you’re not compelled to hide, blast it.”

  Tension fired through the room until Kizira gasped. “Wait. That’s it.” She gripped her hands together, excited. “You gave me an idea. First, we have to come up with a way to prove your loyalty to Flaevynn.”

  “Back to that, huh?” Evalle said, disgusted.

  “You have the patience of a gnat. Answers to your questions will do you no good if you remain here in TÅμr Medb.”

  The lightbulb practically electrocuted Evalle’s brain when it dawned on her that she had a chance to go back to Atlanta. A chance to get word to the Beladors and see Storm. She’d figure out how to play chess if that ended in a ticket home. “Hey, I’m in. Give me another chance. What do I have to do to prove my loyalty to Flaevynn?”

  Calm swept over Kizira. She nodded, determination firing in her words. “If you brought back something valuable belonging to one of the Beladors you’re close to, Flaevynn might accept that breach of trust as a sign of loyalty.”

  “Why? Wouldn’t she think I just asked for whatever I get?”

  “Not if you’re compelled in front of her to steal the item and leave clear evidence that you committed the theft. Maybe something from a hotel room.” Kizira raised her eyebrows, encouraging Evalle to grasp her meaning.

  Hotel room. That would have to be Quinn’s, which would mean she’d have to steal . . . “A warded Triquetra? Are you nuts?”

  “So you admit failure before trying.”

  “No, I’m admitting nothing, just thinking out loud.” And coming to grips with the idea of leaving evidence of betraying Quinn. His Triquetras were custom-made in a secret location, especially the warded one he used for personal security. “How would I get inside his room?”

  “I can get you in there.”

  Evalle walked off a moment, arms hugged around herself as she tried to hold off a chill that had nothing to do with temperature. It was one thing to be thought a traitor and another to be proven one. She hoped he’d give her a chance to explain if she survived . . . if the Beladors didn’t kill her in the attack on Treoir.

  What was she thinking? Everything would change after this battle.

  Regardless of whether the Medb won or lost, how could Evalle ever go home if the gryphons attacked Treoir? Anyone with a brain would quickly figure out the Medb had turned Alterants into gryphons. That meant she couldn’t waste this one chance to return to Atlanta.

  She had to explain to Storm so he wouldn’t hate her. Worse, he’d be hurt. She couldn’t live the rest of her life with that on her conscience. “I’ll go, I’ll bring back the Triquetra and I’ll convince Flaevynn I’m on her team.”

  “About time.”

  “Speaking of that, I’m not going unless you give me some extra time there.”

  “How long?”

  “Six hours.”

  “I can’t give you that much. The attack is—” Kizira grabbed her throat and coughed, struggling to breathe.

  So that’s what happened when you tried to go against being compelled? “Oops.”

  Icicles should be hanging off Kizira’s chilling glare. She rubbed her throat. “I can give you four hours.”

  That would have to suffice, but Evalle now had a time frame for the attack. She had to get going. “Okay. Now, what idea did I give you a minute ago?”

  “You said to tell you something I wasn’t forbidden to say. First, understand that you will be compelled to not speak to anyone about your ti
me here or the attack. You’ll be compelled to tell no one about Alterants changing into gryphons or that you have evolved into one. You just saw what happened when I almost made that mistake.”

  “I need to know what I can say.”

  Kizira pinched the bridge of her nose, then lowered her hand. “Pay attention and curb your sarcasm. I will not compel you to share your deepest wishes.”

  What did that mean? “What deepest wishes?”

  Kizira’s shoulders eased with relief. “For example, I will not compel you to tell someone not aligned with the coalition that it would make you happy if your two closest friends were to spend the next twelve hours watching over Atlanta instead of traveling to faraway places.”

  Evalle sorted through Kizira’s cryptic suggestions and realized the Medb priestess wanted her to warn Quinn and Tzader away from Treoir. “You think I would intentionally undermine Belador defenses?”

  Kizira lost her fleeting look of hope and snarled, “Can’t you figure out the simplest puzzle? Do you even care about anything besides how this affects you?” Calming herself, she pleaded, “Think, Evalle. This is a game where we both stand to lose people we care about.”

  That backed Evalle up a step mentally. She replayed their conversation. This was about protecting Quinn more than anything. “You really care about—”

  “Him,” Kizira said quickly, her eyes glancing around as if in fear.

  “Thought this place was secure.”

  “It is, but I never risk his name.”

  Evalle couldn’t pin down how she felt about seeing this side of Kizira. “What’s the deal between you two?”

  “I don’t wish to discuss this further, especially if you aren’t going to do your part.”

  “Oh, I’ll play the game now that I understand how to manipulate the words.”

  “Not that I’m hearing.” Looking away, Kizira whispered with desperation, “He has no one to protect him.”

  A guilty weight had pressed on Evalle’s chest for weeks about Quinn. If Flaevynn did not know about Quinn, then it seemed logical that Kizira could solve an internal conflict Evalle was tired of wrestling with. “Tell me something. Speaking of him, did he or did he not tell you how to find me when I was with Tristan in the Maze of Death a couple of weeks back?”