Griffin reaches out and grips my upper arms, squeezing just enough to keep me still. “I am not Eleni. Little Bean is not Eleni. None of us are Eleni!” he thunders. “And what your mother did to her wasn’t your fault!”
My already hammering heart goes into overdrive. My throat tightens, closing over. Suddenly, I’m burning up and freezing cold, and the whoosh of blood in my ears is deafening. Pounding. It’s all I can hear. Weight seems to press down on me, crushing me from the sides, squeezing me all over. I don’t know if I’m going to pass out or throw up, but everything blurs, and I can only see one thing: Little Bean is Eleni. She’ll just have black hair.
Black hair. Blood. Seventeen years old. A knife in her heart. Dead.
Panic beats through me in dark waves. There’s no air.
Griffin’s expression goes from fuming to anxious. “Cat?”
My chest squeezes painfully as I wrap my arms around my middle, caving in on myself and searching out Little Bean’s spark. She’s still there. And she’ll be here—until the day she’s not.
“I can’t protect her.” My pulse pounds too hard, too loud, too fast. My breath saws in and out. “I can’t protect her. She’ll die. She’ll die. She’ll die, and I can’t protect her.”
“You can,” Griffin says, holding me fast.
I clamp my eyes shut and shake my head.
“I’m sorry.” Griffin pulls me close. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
I shudder against him, leaning in, and his hand curves around the back of my head.
“Shhh. Nothing will happen to our baby. I swear it.”
“Don’t make…promises…you can’t…keep,” I gasp out against his chest.
“I swear it,” he repeats, gripping me firmly.
I shake my head again. For the first time ever, I don’t believe him, even though no lie burns through me. I can’t, and not even the sternness in his voice, the strength of his embrace, or the solidity of his body will make me.
But his steadfastness and gentle hands do eventually help me to stop shaking and to breathe again. Griffin breathes with me, cradling my head and stroking my back. The sharp, wild panic from before starts to recede, leaving me raw and aching and oddly detached.
Or maybe not detached. Maybe this is just the other side of the overwhelming dread, the side where I can finally think and function again. It feels as though I’ve run through an entire night, scared and hurting, but then dawn broke and gave me a second wind. Daylight and Griffin don’t quell all my fears, but they help, just like they always have.
He holds me, and I hold him back. We stay like that for a long time, quiet.
“I’m tired,” I eventually say, the horrors of the day catching up with me, physically and emotionally.
“I know.”
“I love you.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I know.”
“You don’t have to know everything,” I mutter.
He pulls away enough to look at me. “I don’t know everything, but I know what this is. I’ve seen it happen, even to the best, most seasoned warriors. Sometimes there’s an obvious reason for it, and sometimes it’s just a scent or a sound, but it triggers something that no one can control. Panic does awful things to the mind and body, Cat. You’re strong, but you’re still human. The future is scaring the magic out of you—possibly literally. And Little Bean is a huge change—for you, in you—and you love her so much already that it’s paralyzing you.”
Paralyzing me. I can’t protect anyone that way, or even live long enough for Little Bean to take her first breath.
Griffin gently clasps my face in his hands. “You’re constantly fighting yourself. You’re your own worst enemy, Cat. You have to refocus.”
I’m pretty sure Mother is my worst enemy, but… “Refocus?” I ask.
“You don’t fight her like you fight any other threat. You need to stop thinking of her as your mother. She’s never been that. She’s been your adversary since the day you were born. Fight her like you did Galen Tarva, your brothers, or the other teams in the Agon Games. You give everyone their chance at mercy. If they opt out, they get crushed. Crush her, Cat. Crush her for both of us. For all three of us,” he says, “and for whatever else our future holds.”
His words conjure an image of a whole castle full of little dark heads. Home. Family. I want that. I want it so much it hurts.
I tuck the vision away, keeping it safe for now. “But how? My lightning doesn’t work, at least not consistently, and Mother seems to know every trick I don’t.”
“You’re stronger than she is. Inside and out.”
“But I hesitate with her when I don’t with anyone else, and I can’t seem to stop.” The one more chance syndrome I’ve developed where Mother is concerned is going to get me killed—get all of us killed—if I don’t find a cure for it soon.
“You also have something she’ll never have—me, Little Bean, our friends and family. Reasons to live.”
Those heartwarming reasons bring a sudden prick of tears to my eyes. Stepping back from him, I smile a little wryly. “When did you get so wise?”
Griffin looks down at me, his face perfectly serious. “The day I decided you were the most important thing in my life, and always will be.”
I huff a small breath. “Very smooth.” Okay, I’m thrilled.
He winks. “I know.”
“The Gods are gone.” I look around, just to make sure they haven’t come back. “I still had questions.”
“Like what?” Griffin asks.
“Like how to get rid of these wings. And how to make sure my lightning will work when I need it to.”
Griffin takes my hand and starts leading me toward the barn. The sky is darkening, and not only because of the smoke from the still-burning house. “I’m pretty sure they’ll be around,” he says. “You can ask them later.”
“I want to know now.”
He turns to me as we walk, his dark brows lifting. “Right now?”
“Yes, now!”
He nods. “I see what you’re doing. You’re giving me practice for when Little Bean turns two.”
My mouth falls open. I pinch his side. “That was completely uncalled for.”
He slides out of my grip. “So was the pinch.”
I give him the evil eye. Actually, I give him two. “So, Your Arrogant-I-Know-Everythingness, how do you think I get rid of the wings?”
Griffin’s gaze roams over me in a way that makes my heart start to race. His voice gains a husky resonance. “I like the wings.”
I feel myself flush. “Fine. Great. But I’d like to control their sliding in and out.”
Heat sparks in his eyes. “Sliding in and out?”
I press my lips together to keep from smiling, but warmth spreads through me, and my blush deepens. “Griffin!” He’s incorrigible. Insatiable. Thank the Gods. “This is serious.”
He instantly puts on his warlord face and answers earnestly. “I think the wings are like the lightning. Both come straight from your Olympian blood, but while the lightning is magic, the wings are inherent to the framework of your body. Theoretically, you should be able to control the in and out of both—the lightning with your will and your mind, and the wings with your muscles and bones, almost like raising an arm or reaching out.”
“Theoretically?”
“Yes, although the lightning has proved temperamental so far. The wings might, too. But then again, so have you.”
I snort. Loudly.
His hand smacks down on my bottom, and he hauls me up against him. My front collides with his bare chest, and I grip his shoulders, reveling in the heat of his skin.
“The warlord face is an act, isn’t it? You have other things on your mind.” I know I’m starting to.
“Warlord face?”
I nod. “The scowly, se
rious one.”
He grunts, and then his mouth descends on mine. I kiss him back, deep and hard, desperate to get closer still. When we pull apart, our breathing is ragged, and Griffin’s eyes gleam with want.
“Keep kissing me like that, and we won’t make it to the barn,” he says thickly.
“I don’t need a barn. I need you.” We came so close to losing each other today. I need to feel him, touch him, to know that he’s okay.
“Cat.” He leans his forehead against mine, his quick breaths fanning my lips. His eyes close but then pop open again almost instantly, looking haunted.
He swallows. “I can’t stop seeing you crash through that window. Fall…” His hands fist in the back of my tunic, gripping hard. “I forbid you to die. Or to ever scare me like that again. Do you understand me?” he demands, his voice so low I barely hear the tremor in it.
I shiver, but I shake my head. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise you that. You know I can’t.”
“I put you in danger. I forced you out of hiding. I brought you to this.” His expression turns pained. “You were safe before you met me.”
“No.” He shouldn’t believe that. “I was never safe. But I was never happy, either.”
“But you could be safe.” Those haunted eyes turn frantic, and I think the downswing of all that fear and adrenaline is hitting him now and pushing him into shaky territory. He held it together to keep me from falling apart, but there’s only so much a person can take.
“Griffin—”
He slices his head back and forth, cutting me off. “We’ll stop. We’ll stop here.” His eyes dart from side to side, although I doubt he means here here. “Your mother won’t live forever. We’ll wait her out. I’ll keep you safe. You and Little Bean. I swear it, Cat. That’s all that mat—”
“Stop.” I put my finger over his lips, quieting his agitated words. “We don’t have a choice. Not anymore.”
“We do. You. Me. Castle Sinta. We’ll put as much distance as possible and two realms’ worth of soldiers between Fisa and us.”
“You mean all those soldiers we recruited on the hope for a safer kingdom for everyone? Who believed in us? Who came to us of their own free will? Use them as a buffer for our own safety and not even try to deliver on our promise?”
He flinches away from me, his jaw clenching hard.
“What happened to refocus?” I ask. “To crush her? Maybe I can, and maybe I can’t. I don’t know, but I’m willing to try. I can’t forget about all the people who have rallied to us. Who chant ‘Elpis’ at our gate. Who are waiting for us to change their lives. Suddenly, it’s ‘to the Underworld with them’?” I shake my head. “That’s not you. I know it’s not.”
A long moment of silence goes by while he simply looks at me. Finally, in an utter monotone, Griffin says, “You matter more to me.”
My Kingmaker Magic doesn’t ignite. He means every word.
“Thalyria matters, too,” I say gently. “And that’s okay.”
His mouth flattens, and the arms he still has wrapped around me harden from tension he can’t seem to govern. “Thalyria may matter, but I choose you. I will always choose you.”
I look up into his eyes, emotion clogging my throat. “You can choose me. That’s your right. I’ll choose Thalyria—for both of us.”
He curses and then grinds out, “It’s not worth it. It’s not worth your life.”
“I used to think that, too. But then I met a warlord who took over a realm because he didn’t like the way it was run. People there are happy now. Settled. Prosperous. More so than in centuries.”
His eyes narrow. Yes, I’m playing dirty, but that’s the only way I know how, even if it means catching him in his own idealistic net.
“If no one fights for a better world, there is no better world. We’ve started this now, Griffin. You can’t go halfway and then stop.”
“I can if it means losing you.”
“I’m not the same person I was last summer. You opened my eyes. You spent weeks convincing me to see the bigger picture, the greater good, and I can’t just close them now because that’s convenient for me, or us, or because we might get hurt.”
“Might?” he growls.
“You saw something in me. You saw the light when all I saw was the dark. You made me believe there was more to me than the blood I’ve shed, the sister I lost, or the realm I abandoned. You broke through the…dread in me and filled the emptiness inside me with hope. Elpis,” I say. “I’m Elpis because of you. Because of us, together. I can’t turn my back on that, and you can’t ask me to. It’s too powerful, too much a part of me now. I can’t change that. And I don’t want to.”
Griffin’s eyes flick down and then back up again, his pain and love laid bare across his features. His throat moves on a hard swallow. “I’m afraid of losing you. Or leaving you too soon. I don’t want you to have to fight alone.”
A spasm arrows through my chest. “I understand what you’re feeling. I feel it every day, too. Am I scared? Yes. Do I know if we’ll succeed?” I shake my head. “But not trying… That would be worse than ignoring the gift of Elpis. That would be betraying it, and betraying everyone who’s placed their faith in me.”
A war of emotions crosses Griffin’s face. I reach up and lay my hand on his cheek, and he leans in to me, even though his jaw stays rigid. Standing together, I tell him what’s in my heart.
“When I close my eyes, I don’t see my death. I see people looking at me with a spark of hope just starting to burn in their gazes, hope that springs from me. It’s mine to either snuff out or ignite into the kind of fire that reshapes the world. I see you right next to me, looking at me like you did during those days when we were tied together with a rope, and I had no idea what to think, or do, or whether I should help you. You knew then, for both of us, and I grew to trust you. I know now, and I need you to trust me this time. I don’t know how to finish what we started, but if we stop here, I let the darkness back in. Into me. Into everyone. And it’ll consume me with guilt.”
His face twists from the conflict inside him. “I can’t lose you. Our baby…”
“Then fight alongside me. Fight for Little Bean’s future. Help me be strong.”
Abruptly, he pulls back from me, shaking his head. “I didn’t understand before, no matter what you said, or what happened with those creatures your mother was driving. I see her for what she is now. We’re better off in Sinta.”
“Of course we’re better off in Sinta. But I’m not giving up, and neither are you. That’s not you, Griffin. Mother is cruel, soulless, and horrifically violent. Now you’ve seen. Now you know. You just need time to adjust after your first physical encounter with her.”
“Adjust?” His eyes flare. “Adjust to the idea of you in a pool of your own blood?”
I snort softly. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Griffin’s face goes blank for a split second before flushing darkly.
Uh-oh. My stomach flips over. Wrong thing to say.
His eyes rake over me, over my bloody clothing. Then he reaches out, grips the neck of my tunic with both hands, and pulls hard in opposite directions, ripping it clean in half. The torn garment hangs from my shoulders, fluttering on a cool breeze that feathers over my skin and makes me shiver.
Griffin undresses me, his eyes as steely and focused as the rest of him. My belt hits the ground, and my pants drop to my ankles, pooling around my boots in what I’m sure is a very attractive manner. Griffin steps back, glaring at my mostly naked body.
I stare back. I’m not sure what this stripping is about, or what he needs to do, but I’m going to let him figure it out.
“Still blood everywhere,” he mutters. He dips down and then lifts me up, slinging me over his shoulder. His arm clamps around the back of my knees.
I grip his hips and push off to keep from
bouncing against his back when he starts walking. His free hand rips my boots from my feet, and my pants slide the rest of the way off. We leave a trail of clothing across the meadow.
“Griffin?”
“I’ll never adjust to the idea of you dying. To the Underworld with the greater good. The idealist who tied you up with a magic rope to keep Sinta in good hands? Gone,” he says flatly. “You and Little Bean—that’s all that matters. And Alpha Fisa beat us today.”
“Beat us? We’re both still here. She had to run away!”
“She ran away because two Gods showed up! And I’m only alive because she’s insanely arrogant. After you went through the window, she knocked me on the head with something. I don’t know what. She probably thought I was unconscious and would burn with the house, but I was only stunned. She was too busy searching for Ianthe’s pearls to pay attention to me anymore. She stormed out once she’d found them.”
My eyes widen. Thank the Gods for Griffin’s hard head!
“I thought she’d gone, but she must have been watching and then came back to finish us off when it turned out we weren’t dead.” He works my tunic off my back, ripping it free from around my wings. “I’m not trusting your life to anyone. No army. No team. No God. We can’t count on anyone. Not anymore.”
Oh no. “Is this about Piers?”
“This is about you!” he snarls.
“No, it’s about you!” I snarl back, twisting to try to look at him. “If I gave up and crawled under a rock every time someone betrayed me, I’d have turned into a grub by now.”
Damn Piers! And damn his shortsighted stupidity. Didn’t he know his brother at all? Betrayal from someone he loves is clearly the one thing with which Griffin cannot cope. That, and the thought of losing me. No wonder those two things collided in an epic explosion when Griffin found out the extent of my omissions during our early time together. I broke his trust by not telling him the truth, and loyalty is the air he breathes.
But when Piers betrayed Griffin and tried to get rid of me, the explosion never happened. It was implosion instead.
Heart on Fire (The Kingmaker Chronicles Book 3) Page 20
