by J. C. Owens
“No.” His tone held implacable refusal.
Daren nodded, turned to go.
“Thank you, for offering.” The other captain’s voice cracked a little, his eyes sliding away from Daren’s.
“You’re welcome.” Daren gave a small bow and forced himself to walk away.
Andon did not sleep that night. Unused to his bed, he missed Ceris’s warmth, the security of her presence. He had shut and locked the door after Captain Phalnir had left. Ceris would not be returning. His hope that she would was foolish. It was customary for the female to take over the male’s nest, stay in his territory, he should have remembered that.
He lay awake, arm behind his head, staring into the unrelenting darkness. It was painfully silent without the sound of his grif’s breathing. The feeling of her presence was always comforting. He never took that for granted.
Now, it was gone.
He could go to Vren’s—Phalnir’s—chamber. But he could not trust that this was no ploy to have him pliant to the captain’s will. He had witnessed and endured too many mind games to ever trust in what people’s motivations might be.
To think that this might be permanent, that he might either be forced to move into Captain Phalnir’s quarters, or remain here, alone…
He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled to his side. Perhaps the captain was right. Perhaps if they got to know each other, things would be easier. A friendship, not ever as strong or important as Vren’s had been, but bearable. That might be possible with time.
He might be able to come to terms with Ceris changing. If she became pregnant, bore young, then her priorities would be further split. He could not deny her the chance to be happy, to have a life full of others.
She had put up with a lot from him. It was time to let her find new, untainted relationships.
He had to stop acting like a petulant toddler who wanted attention.
If only it didn’t hurt so much. He rubbed his chest with the heel of his hand, and curled up under the covers, shivering.
A very small, very wistful part of himself wondered what it would have been like to spend the night with Phalnir.
* * *
The tip of Gretnel’s wing rolled Daren out of bed, and he met the hard floor with a smack that jolted him awake with a groan.
Half stunned, he stared up at his grif, an annoyed growl rising in his throat.
“It’s a true bond.” The happiness in Gretnel’s voice made Daren blink, then scramble to his feet to hug his grif’s neck, sinking his face into the familiar copper mane, drinking in the joy that his companion fairly radiated.
“I’m so damn happy for you.” Daren felt tears rise in his eyes. “Always knew you were special. I can’t believe that you are one of only six modern grifs to ever have this honor.”
“Our honor.” Gretnel lowered his great head to nuzzle Daren. “I am proud to be the mate of Ceris. That she has chosen me from all others is a gift beyond price.” There was a humbleness to the words that was unlike Gretnel, a maturity that made Daren smile with pride.
“She is concerned over her rider. I do not think he is accepting this well, and she is worried. He was gone this morning before we woke, when we both went to speak to him, to tell him this was a true bond.”
“I will find him, tell him for you.” Daren turned to where Ceris was watching, her golden eyes intense. “Congratulations, Ceris. Thank you for being strong enough to put up with Gretnel. It is no easy task, believe me.”
A wingtip clipped the back of his head, sending him staggering, Gretnel’s growl in his ears.
Ceris made a sound, a soft chortling of amusement.
“She says she will be sure to keep me in line.” Gretnel sounded aggrieved.
“Then you have my thanks.” Daren bowed to her.
“She asks that you see to her rider. He will be hurting, confused. He is not good with people and the situations that emotions bring to the fore.”
Daren nodded, his amusement fading. “He is now my mate as well. I will be careful, ease him into this. I admit to wanting a complete relationship, but understand that it may well take time. I can be patient.”
Gretnel nuzzled at him, sympathy in his eyes. “He will come round, especially if he opens to what Ceris is feeling.” Daren caught a sliver of emotion from his grif, a bit of annoyance that Ceris’s rider was causing problems. Obviously this was going to be something that needed to be worked on with them all.
Gretnel, so far, had had very little to do with Andon. He only knew he wanted to protect his rider from harm. Something that Daren himself hoped for. Only one night spent together, and he already felt the threads of the bond forming between them.
If only Andon could open to this, he would never have to be alone again.
He joined his riders in the walk to the morning meal, and they were overjoyed by his news.
Congratulations were given all around, but Andon’s name was not mentioned. It seemed they were well aware of the difficulties he faced and did not wish to lower his mood. He could only be grateful. He had no idea how to go about winning Andon over. This would take time. Difficult when every instinct was clamoring for his mate’s presence.
He entered the hall with long strides, going straight to stand before the head table, facing Commander Lasrem, who looked up in some confusion.
“My grif has told me it is a true bond.” Daren’s calm, firm words silenced the entire hall.
Lasrem rose to his feet, his eyes crinkling, lips curving into a smile. “Congratulations, Captain! A rare event indeed.”
The rest of the riders rose to their feet, and somewhere someone clapped, others joined in, so that applause rose to the rafters.
Daren nodded, his eyes sliding to where Vatner stood motionless, pure rage in his expression. Their gazes locked, then Vatner swung away under the cover of the applause, stalking away with anger in every line of his body.
Byrant watched him go, then turned back, his narrow eyes fixed upon Daren with speculation in their depths. He was not nearly so obvious as Vatner. Daren counted that as a warning. This man could and would be dangerous.
Byrant gave a small, unamused smile, nodding to Daren before he began to clap with the others, but there was nothing but mockery in his movements.
Habnin stood silent, hard, dark eyes fixed upon Daren with unwavering intensity.
Daren switched his attention back to Lasrem, feeling his heart warm at the approval in the older man’s expression. He would have support from that quarter, even if nowhere else. It had to be enough.
He spent the late morning with Gretnel and the other grifs and their riders at the sand baths.
Ceris had appeared, her rightful place now at Gretnel’s side, something the rules approved of. Her gaze constantly flitted over the area, and Daren knew she was searching for her rider. Through his grif, Daren could feel the way her happiness dimmed, her proud posture dropped into something showing her sadness.
He gritted his teeth. After murmuring a few words to Olnar, he slipped away, toward the salle.
The coolness of the building was welcome respite against the sun that already brought uncomfortable heat to the land. It was quiet here, and he passed through the doorway and onto the sands with silent tread.
There were no students evident, and he realized that it must be close to midday now, no other classes until mid-afternoon, if he was correct in his memory.
A good time to speak to his new mate. He was determined to use that word despite the current problems. He had to believe that something could come of this, a future happiness for them all.
He had to.
Andon was going through slow, controlled movements, knife in hand. So smooth, eyes fixed upon some distant point as his body flowed through each sequence with a grace that was breathtaking. The muscle strength of his lean body was obvious as he held each pose with ease, not a quiver to be seen.
Daren stood and watched avidly, not wanting to disturb Andon, especially when it seemed th
e motions seemed to be calming him. His face was smooth, no lines of worry or stress as was so evident all the other times Daren had seen him. Daren wanted to be the one to create that peace permanently, to give him a degree of happiness that would chase the past into the dark corners, give Andon the ability to keep it there.
He hardly knew the man, but already he wanted to hand him the world.
It should have terrified him, but instead, he felt strong, invincible, as though he would willingly go through any manner of trials to bring Andon to his side. He thrust worries to the side. Only time would indicate if he was being foolishly optimistic.
He stepped forward, and Andon’s eyes slowly opened, no surprise in their depths, as though he had sensed Daren’s arrival. Perhaps the links were already working on his side as well, subconsciously or not.
With a grace that made Daren’s blood pulse, Andon eased from the pose he held and stood to face him, his expression calm and even. “You need to speak to me?”
“It is a true bond, Andon.”
The man’s face became immobile, frozen, his eyes flickering with some deep emotion.
“Ceris is at the sand baths,” he continued. “I can feel the way her spirits fell when you were not there. I am asking you to come, to show that you support her. There will be those watching, and your absence will make things more difficult. For you, for Ceris.”
Andon turned away, picking up a towel and wiping the faint sweat off his brow. He did not answer for long minutes as Daren waited with forced calm. He needed to learn greater patience than he already possessed if he was to support Andon, be the mate he needed. There would be no forcing this man. Such a thing would send him in the opposite direction within a heartbeat, with all previous advancements lost.
At last, Andon looked up, met his gaze squarely. “You are right. I will come. For her, not for this whole business. You will come to understand, Captain, that I am not capable of being a mate. Not for you, not for anyone. I am sorry that you have been caught up in this, but I have nothing to give you.”
The utter conviction in those words made Daren ache with sadness, for what had brought this man to believe that he was not capable of being anyone’s beloved.
This was nothing to be easily fixed.
Yet all Daren felt was greater determination, proof that he had finally lost all sense…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Andon finished tidying the bench, prepared a few things for the afternoon class, before silently following Captain Phalnir from the salle, nerves tight, his stomach roiling with growing tension.
He knew he should have stayed this morning, waited for word from Ceris. That would have been the proper thing to do. Yet he had deliberately fled, as though fleeing the answer she would give.
This change that would now shape his life, taking all control away, putting him in a position of mate, was something he was ill-equipped for. Captain Phalnir seemed a good man. He did not deserve the fate that now enfolded him, stuck with an emotionally crippled man with no title, no family connections. He could not understand how the captain seemed to be taking it so well. Perhaps it had not sunk in yet. When reality came to light, no doubt he would slowly turn upon Andon, resentful.
Andon’s lips thinned, and his hands slowly curled into fists as he walked before he consciously relaxed them. He kept his face expressionless, cold, so that any watching would not be able to discern his reactions.
He would give them no fuel for gossip and speculation. They would make up their own, no doubt, but he was not going to hand it to them.
There seemed a lot of people milling around the sand baths, far more than usual, and his steps faltered ever so slightly.
A hand came down on his shoulder, not firmly, not controlling, but with a hint of “I’m here, you are not alone.”
He did not shake it off.
Ceris’s head rose, her eyes sharp as she sniffed the air. She gave a rumbling growl, then she was on Andon, her wing sweeping him close, pushing Daren aside, blocking Andon off from everyone around them.
“Where have you been, sosi?”
He could find no words to answer her. Never before had he had this trouble. She was his rock, his confidant, his friend. Yet, here and now, he could find nothing to say, the emotions balling in his throat, preventing all speech.
Her muzzle rubbed gently over his head, ruffling his long hair into disorder, the customary braid pulling free.
“I am happy for you, Ceris. I really am. I just need a little time to work through what I am feeling. I don’t understand…” He choked off.
“I know. Don’t explain. Will you stop blocking me now?” The tone was plaintive, and guilt rose like a tide within Andon. Once again, his own idiosyncrasies had the power to hurt both he and anyone with him. Another reason why he was best left to his own.
“Stop.” Her voice halted his painful musings short, as it often did. “This is difficult, but I love you. You are my rider. That is for always.”
He nodded, tried desperately to bring down the barrier that blocked his grif from his thoughts. He could hear her words easily enough, but not how she felt. After a few moments, he let out a harsh breath and laid his head against her shoulder, letting his eyes close as his fingers tangled in her fur. “I’m sorry, so very sorry. I can’t seem to open the blocks. Just…”
“Shh, sosi. Let it go. It will come when you feel more secure.”
He gave a bitter laugh, letting her fur absorb the silent tears he would not admit shedding. “I can’t see that happening in this lifetime.”
“But you didn’t have Captain Phalnir before. I did not have Gretnel. As four, we can be stronger. Trust me in this.”
“I always trust you,” he whispered. “It is myself that I don’t trust at all.”
Daren stroked over Gretnel’s wing where it lay over him, shielding him from the worst of the sun’s heat. So incredibly soft and so perfectly designed. He never got tired of marveling over his grif’s wings.
They stood a little way distant from Andon and Ceris, watching, waiting patiently, not rushing what had to be a difficult conversation.
Byrant appeared beside them. “So, you are mated to Andon. I can’t congratulate you, only pity you. I see he is his usual mess.” Byrant’s tone rankled, his smirk as he stared at where Ceris’s wing shielded Andon made Daren’s blood pressure rise. The griffon master stood a short distance away, his grif submissively crouched behind him.
“I would watch your tongue, if I were you.” Daren’s words slid into ice-cold disdain. “You are speaking of my mate. Whatever the past was, now he has those who back him completely. You might want to tell the others of your merry little band that if any of you attempt to harm him, I will be completely within my rights to retaliate.”
Byrant turned his cold gaze upon him. “I have the power of a whole base behind me, Captain. You have only a wing. I would be careful of your words.”
“You speak as though you have command of this base. How interesting. Does Commander Lasrem know you have such high aspirations?”
Byrant’s expression slid into fury. “Your assumptions are foolish, Captain. You are a stranger here, unaware of how things work. Do not think you can come in here and fling accusations around freely.”
“Perhaps because I am not from here, I can see things more clearly than most. Play your games if you wish, but know this, if you attempt to touch him, as you and your minions have in the past, I will not hesitate to act.”
“Again, you assume. Captain Grazon is no angel. He lures us in with his demands for sex and then cries to the world he has been violated. You have seen him fight. Do you honestly think that others could take him if he did not choose? He wants it, Captain, always has. Good luck keeping him to yourself.” He whirled on his heel and stalked away, his grif trailing behind.
Daren made himself calm down, unclenching his fists. The bastard… But a tiny worm of doubt crept into his mind. Andon was powerful and skilled, unbelievably swift as Byrant had sa
id. How was it that others had taken him, harmed him?
Gretnel huffed and shoved him with his chest so that Daren stumbled forward.
“You would let a man such as Byrant put all manner of filth in your mind? Taint your newborn relationship?”
Daren took a deep breath. Gretnel was right, as he often was.
Yet did he really know Andon at all?
This time, a wingtip clipped the back of his head with considerable force.
* * *
Andon was happy to retreat to the salle where there were not so many prying eyes and whispers. Did they think him deaf? Or was it that they wanted him to hear their vile insinuations? He had noted the confrontation between Phalnir and Byrant. Seen the confusion on Phalnir’s face afterward. Seeing that confusion, that doubt, had felt like a knife in his chest.
They would get to him. They always did, always tainted anyone new coming into the base to ensure that Andon was utterly alone. He knew better than to hope that anything would change. For a brief moment, he had hoped Phalnir might be different, but he knew that look well.
Phalnir was considering what the bastard said and was not completely dismissing it.
His lips curled into a cold smile. So much for mates.
He did his warm-ups wrapped in cold isolation, a return to where he was in control, without worry of what others would think.
This mate thing was a clear disaster. That was certain. He would just have to carve his own place within it. With time, Phalnir would realize there was nothing for him here and move on. It was not unheard of for mates to invite others into their bond. Phalnir could find one that suited him much better. Andon cast away the pang that thought created.
This had never been for him. It was for Ceris and Gretnel. What happened around them was not their concern.
It was not Ceris’s duty to ensure her rider’s happiness.
He finished his stretches and stood silently for some time, eyes closed, drawing strength into himself. When the ice was once more firmly in place, he turned to face the incoming students with calm resolve.
