“No. Look!”
I look toward the castle, which looms in the distance. Circling it are about fifteen gryphons, black dots against the clouded sky. They fly just out of reach of archers, and I wonder how many more are hiding in the cloud-cover.
My gut drops. The castle is far from safe, and I’m miles from any other shelter. And Farren. Farren is still in the castle, trapped—
A thud cuts through my panic, and the ground trembles. A gust of air strikes me, and Lor and I fall to the ground.
A talon strikes the sand next to my head. Another lands next to Lor, pinning us both in place.
I look up. The gryphon looms above us, reeking of rot and death, and dripping blood from its beak. A droplet falls onto my cheek. I shudder. The gryphon slits its eyes, glaring at me, and tucks its wings close to its body.
Attack tactics run through my head. Martial arts would be useless against this beast; it’s too huge for a punch or kick to do anything. And its feathers are too thick around its neck for anything to easily pierce it. But its legs are nearly unguarded, protected only by soft-looking down feathers.
I slowly slide my hand into the sash around my waist and pull out my dagger. Before the gryphon can react, I lunge foward and drive the dagger into the beast’s right foreleg.
The blade slashes through tendons and muscle, and the gryphon throws its head back and releases a shriek of pain. It flails its leg, tearing the dagger from my grasp, and dislodging it. My weapon falls into the sand a few feet from me.
“Move!” I shriek at Lor, and scramble to my feet.
A claw slices into my already-injured thigh, tearing a scream from me. I stumble, and a paw strikes my back, knocking me to the sand. I’m back under the gryphon, Lor still beside me.
I barely made it two feet.
Harsh laughter cuts through the momentary silence, coming from the rider on the gryphon’s back. “Look what we have here. A little princeling running from his own kind. Are you so fond of humans that you’ve adopted their fear of your own species?”
Lor narrows his eyes and braces his arms against the sand, like he’s going to leap up at the rider. “I wouldn’t be running if I weren’t being chased.”
I glance down to my leg, assessing the damage. A large gash tears across my thigh, deep and already gushing blood. I’m too high on adrenaline to feel much pain, but I know it will be agonizing in a few hours. If I survive that long…
The rider shakes his head, and the hood he wears falls back, exposing his face. It’s defined and all harsh angles, like Lor’s. But his skin is paler, and he wears a smile darker than any expression I’ve ever seen on Lor. “You honestly expect not to be hunted, little princeling? After killing our princess?”
“I didn’t kill her!”
The pain and anger in Lor’s voice cuts through me, making me wince.
The rider scoffs. “Right, that’s what you said at your trial. The trial where you were found guilty. Or do you not remember?”
“Take me to my father,” Lor demands. “The king will understand if I’d just get a chance to speak with him.”
“The king?” The rider chuckles. “Haven’t you heard, princeling? Your father isn’t king anymore.”
Lor blinks, too stunned to answer. Then he finally says, “What? Why?”
The rider smiles, showing that predatory smile. “It’s hard to rule a kingdom from a coffin, little princeling.”
All the anger falls away from Lor’s face, leaving only anguish and shock. He shakes his head and mouths, “No.”
“Yes,” the rider replies. The gryphon takes a step forward, and its talon sinks into the sand just inches from Lor’s head. I shudder and scramble back a step, but the gryphon snaps its beak just inches from my face. I freeze.
“King Asair now rules over our kind,” the rider says to Lor. He still hasn’t even addressed me, and by the way he keeps his chin tilted away from me, I can tell he’s disgusted by my presence. “Your father refused to hand over the throne to him, despite your brother being old enough to inherit it. The king had no choice but to kill your father.”
“Asair isn’t a king,” Lor snarls. “He was out-casted! He has no right to the throne.”
“And you were, too. Or have you already forgotten that Angels are supposed to have wings?” The rider chuckles and nods to Lor’s scarred back.
Lor snarls and clenches his fist tighter.
The rider rolls his eyes. “I’d tell you to save the theatrics for King Asair, but I suppose you’ll be dead before he gets here. Pity, isn’t it? He won’t get to see you die.”
“Asair is coming?” I blurt out.
“Of course he’s coming. The entire Angel army is coming. You think our king would leave us to take these lands alone?”
Lor’s face pales. “What do you mean?”
The rider rolls his eyes impatiently. “We’re going to take these lands back, like we should have done centuries ago.”
“My father would never have wanted that,” Lor hisses. “Our war with the humans is part of the past. We’ve already settled in new lands, we’ve created an entirely new civilization. You know my father believed we should leave this continent alone.”
“Your father is dead,” the rider spits. “What he thought doesn’t matter.”
I take a deep breath and decide to speak up. “You’ll never get past Shale,” I declare. “He’s determined to conquer this entire continent, and his army is larger than yours.”
I don’t really know how large the Angel army is, so I can’t say that for sure. But I decide to include it, anyway. Maybe it will scare the rider. And… then what? Just because he’s scared doesn’t mean the other Angels will stop their attack, and it doesn’t mean he’ll let us survive.
The rider just laughs at my statement, finally turning to regard me with a look of disdain. “Of course we could never defeat Shale. King Asair would never try something that stupid.”
“So then what are you doing here?” I ask. “Shale has his eyes set on Irrador.”
“Exactly,” the rider says. “That’s why our army is joining with his. We’ll take Irrador together.”
My stomach twists, and I clench my jaw to keep bile down. I glance to Lor, and find that he looks just as sickened.
“I won’t let you do this,” Lor growls. I can’t find any words to agree with Lor, but I nod, glaring up at the rider.
The rider shrugs. “That’s a fine little threat, princeling. But you’ll be dead in a few seconds, so I don’t suppose it really matters.”
The gryphon lowers its head, until it’s only inches from Lor’s face. Bloody saliva drips onto Lor, and the gryphon licks the lower part of its beak. It snakes its head back, preparing a strike. My heart pounds like it’s trying to escape from my chest. But I can’t tear my gaze away from Lor, who glares up at the creature, his fist clenched and ready for a fight.
The gryphon suddenly freezes and whips its head around to stare at the rider. It hisses, but backs away a step, obeying some kind of silent order. I glance at the rider, who’s staring hard at Lor, a frown on his face.
“You still have the prophecy mark,” he murmurs, nodding to Lor’s tattoo.
“Yes,” Lor says. “It’s treason to kill me. The ancient laws declare it.”
The rider’s face darkens, but he nods. “Then I will face the consequences with honor.”
The gryphon arches its head back. It lunges, and for a moment, I think it’s going to miss. But it’s beak strikes Lor’s forearm, digging into the flesh there and tearing off the vambrace. I scream. I’m not sure what I say, or even what I’m trying to say. But this can’t be happening. Lor can’t die, can’t leave me to face death alone.
Lor stares in horror at his bleeding forearm. His dark blood drips down his arm, covering the area the vambrace used to shield. Seconds tick by, and no one moves.
And Lor doesn’t die.
Lor’s previous question echoes in my mind: But how can the magic in the vambraces have l
asted for centuries? I want to laugh, but I think I’d puke if I open my mouth. He was right. The vambrace is nothing but an idle threat. It can’t actually kill Lor.
But the gryphon can.
It hisses, probably sensing the glare on its rider’s face. It takes a step forward and arches its neck back, preparing to strike again. But then a tiny sparrow dives down and flaps its wings at the gryphon’s face. It stumbles back and bats at the sparrow with a talon, hissing at the little red bird.
I look at Lor, wondering if he’s somehow controlling the sparrow. But he looks just as surprised as I do.
“Good afternoon, prince!”
I glance around, searching for the source of the voice. It’s amused and way too happy, and doesn’t fit the masculine tone I hear. I sweep my gaze over the beach, but all I see is the little sparrow, diving and swooping away from the gryphon.
“I’ve come to rescue you,” declares the voice, which I realize is in my head. “I’m afraid I’m lacking a white horse and a sunset, but we’ll just have to make do.”
The voice is giddy. Electric. Insane.
Somehow, I can’t help but to like it.
“Cyrus?” Lor blurts out, gaping at the sparrow.
The bird—Cyrus, apparently—swoops close to Lor, its wing lifted in an awkward salute. “At your service, prince.” It dives just as the gryphon’s talon lashes at it. “Or should I call you ‘princeling’? I rather like that name. It’s quite clever.”
Lor scrambles to his feet, and I follow. The gryphon shrieks, maddened that it can’t catch Cyrus. Its rider curses, yelling at the beast in a foreign language.
“What are you doing here?” Lor demands as he begins to stumble back. He grabs my hand, pulling me with him.
The bird twitters a little laugh. “Darling, I think the question should be, what are you doing here? If you’re looking for your throne, you’re on the wrong continent.”
Lor bristles, his teeth clenching and shoulders straightening.
“Come on,” I hiss, pulling him back. “We should run.”
“Oh, yeah,” Cyrus says in our heads. “I thought I mentioned that already. I’ll keep this thing busy, Lor, and you run away with your little princess. She’s pretty, by the way. Nice catch.”
I think of asking how the heck a sparrow is going to keep the gryphon busy. But before the words can leave my mouth, the bird explodes with a burst of feathers, and a black panther stands in front of me. The gryphon shrieks and startles, nearly throwing off its rider.
The panther winks at us, eclipsing the red of his eyes for just a moment. “Time to run, darlings.”
TWENTY-NINE
I snatch up my dagger from where it fell, and we run back to the castle, both of us stumbling. Shrieks and roars and curses echo from behind, but they gradually fade into the distance. I gasp for air, pulling Lor along with me.
“What’s going on?” I demand between gasps. “Who was that?”
Lor shakes his head, his teeth gritted as he drags his limp foot along. “I didn’t recognize that rider, which can’t be good. Asair used to be in charge of our calvary of gryphon riders.”
“So?”
“Some of them left with him when he was banished. They said their loyalties only lay in Asair.” Lor stumbles and almost falls. I catch him, pulling him back to his feet. “They must have come back when Asair took over the throne. Those riders will do anything Asair orders them to.”
I curse, accidentally biting my tongue as I run. I run it along the top of my mouth and taste blood. “Okay,” I say. “Let me rephrase that. What was that?”
“An Angel and his gryphon steed,” Lor says. That irrepressible grin springs onto his lips. “Now do you see why we don’t ride horses?”
I shudder. “And the bird?”
Lor catches me as my bad leg stumbles on a rock. “Oh, that’s Cyrus,” he says, like this explains everything.
“What is he?”
“An acquaintance. And insane.”
We reach a field of wild grass and run in silence for a few moments, although our pace slows with each step. I spit out a mouthful of blood as we leave the field. It’s not the most dainty of actions, and I know Father wouldn’t approve. But then, Father just betrayed his entire country, so I don’t think it really matters what he thinks.
My feet strike stone, and I look down to find a cobbled road. I let out a deep breath, knowing we’re nearing the castle. The breath is cut off as I’m forced to gasp in air. I glance over to Lor, whose chest is heaving just as hard as mine.
I blink a few times, and Lor’s answer finally filters into my panicked brain. “No, I mean what species is he?”
“Cyrus is a hybrid. Half Faery, half Dragon.” I frown at the thought of the mix, but Lor continues, “He got the shape-shifting abilities from his Dragon part, and his Fae part gave him the affinity for manipulating animal souls.”
“And he uses his abilities to turn into a sparrow?”
“Like I said, he’s insane.”
We stop the conversation there. My heart pounds wildly, trying to break through my ribcage. Lor’s heavy pants mingle with mine, creating an unmeasured song of exhaustion. I ball my fists and suddenly remember I’m holding Lor’s hand. He looks a little surprised, but squeezes my hand back.
The castle looms above us, and it’s not long before we’re at its base. What we find is a disaster. Soldiers scramble out of the barracks and past us, bows on their shoulders and sheathed swords at their sides. Their eyes are wide, and they shield their eyes from the sun’s glare as they stare up at the gryphon riders. I follow their gaze and find that the gryphons have descended, although they keep out of the reach of arrows. Their cries fill the air, and I hear faint whoops of excitement from their riders.
A horse comes barreling toward us, its hooves beating out a heavy rhythm on the cobbled stones. It’s huge and pure white—an Iris Guard mount. On its back, I recognize Jolik.
He reins in the horse, his eyes growing wide as he takes in our injuries. “Miss princess,” he gasps, his voice throaty as he struggles to breathe. Sweat covers his forehead, as if he’s been riding for awhile. “What happened to you?”
I shake my head. “I’ll explain later. We’re fine for now, it doesn’t matter.” I glance up to the sky, to what really matters. “How many of them are there? And how do you plan on fighting them?”
Jolik’s face darkens. “I’m not sure. I was just called in from the city. The king was overlooking a trial at the courts, and I was with him. I rode back here as fast as possible, but…” He shakes his head and curses. “There’s a lot of them, Miss Princess. And we’re not sure how to fight this kind of creature.”
I blink, shocked he’s telling me this much. I’m supposed to be a helpless little girl, not a tactician. Then my stomach churns with anger. Of course Father is in the city, safe from the invasion of the castle. Of course he’d keep his own skin safe as he just hands over his country.
“Their necks are the weak points,” Lor declares, barging into my fuming thoughts. He points to his own collarbone and says, “Tell your archers to aim for the point where the feathers meet fur.”
Jolik narrows his eyes at Lor. “And why should I trust you, Angel?”
Lor grits his teeth, but is surprisingly calm as he says, “My father spent his entire life trying to dissuade this kind of invasion. I’ll do anything to stop it.”
Jolik scoffs. “You’re going to have to be more convincing than that.”
Lor curses and turns his back to Jolik, then looks over his shoulder at him. “You see those scars?” he asks, his voice a low growl. “Those are there because of the man leading this invasion. Now, do you really think I’d support him?”
Jolik clenches his teeth, his jaw working back and forth. Then he gives a short nod. “Very well. I’ll inform the archers.” The wheels his horse so he directly faces me. “Miss Princess, you need to run. Now. Get as far away from the castle as you can. There might be more of these creatures out
there—” He gestures to the fields surrounding the castle, the ones we just ran through. “—but there have to be less of them than there are here.”
I glance over my shoulder and take a couple steps back. Then I freeze. “No,” I say. “I’m not leaving until Farren leaves. He’s still in the castle?”
Jolik’s face darkens. “Yes. He’s in his chambers.”
I frown, wondering why he’s hiding out in his chambers when a battle is about a start. It doesn’t sound like him. But I take a deep breath and say, “Then I need to get to him.”
Jolik shakes his head. “You can’t.”
“I have to! He’s my brother. I need to make sure he’s safe.”
“I won’t let you, Miss Princess. The prince doesn’t need protection anymore, and you have no reason to go barging into a castle that’s about to be invaded.”
Before he can grab me, I dart around Jolik’s horse and race into the crowd of soldiers filing past. I drag Lor with me, afraid to leave him alone with the soldiers. He’s an Angel, technically an enemy, and he could be in danger.
“Miss Princess!” Jolik calls after me. “Get back here! Now!”
I ignore his order and dive deeper into the ranks of soldiers. Some of the men glare at me, but most are too focused on the sky to even notice. Lor manages to stay close, cursing as his foot drags more and more. My own leg is throbbing, and I feel faint from losing blood.
When we’re a few dozens yards away, I slow to a walk and try to blend in. I wish I had my cloak with its hood, but I make do by keeping my head low. I keep with the flow of the soldiers, and step to the side as I approach one of the side entrances that leads into the castle.
I slip into the castle undetected, Lor in tow. A servant nearly runs into me as he tries to race out the door I just came in. But he skirts by me, not bothering to stop and ask what I’m doing sneaking around.
“We need to get to Farren,” I whisper to Lor. He walks behind me as I guide him down a corridor, his breathing coming in short gasps. His hand remains firmly clenched around mine.
“Where are his chambers?” Lor asks between pants.
Counting Shadows (Duplicity) Page 16
