The Avowed (Shadowed Wings Book 2)

by Ivy Asher

  He could be here looking for a plaything or as a favor to some other guest wanting to show off their connection. Either way, I expected nothing to come of it for me. There are some Offerings who seek out a pleasure match as opposed to lineage match; I am not one of them. I kept my head down and focused on what I was there to do.

  And then bright green eyes met mine, and all that I knew, all that was expected of me, was simply gone.

  Goose bumps prickle my arms, and I quickly turn the page to find out what happened next.

  She sings for him.

  No matter how I try to silence it, ignore it, and do as I was always told to do, she still sings for him. Her first note sent me running away. My parents were livid, certain that such a rash move had ruined everything for me...for them. I wanted to tell them what happened, but a stranger wore my mother’s eyes, and I couldn’t speak the truth.

  How could I sing for an Ouphe?

  Yes, my Sire was pureblood and my mother his favorite toy, but how can someone like me sing for a pureblood? I didn’t even know that was possible. I’ve never even heard whisperings. I was always taught that a gryphon could only call to another gryphon, and yet mine calls to him. I don’t know what to do. If I answer the call, I could be following my mother’s path. I would not be a disgrace to her or my Sire, given who the alliance would be with, but it’s everything I vowed to never become. If I implement the techniques that I’ve been taught and dismiss the call, I can have what I’ve been allowed to want for my life.

  But she sings for him, and it’s not as easy as I’ve been taught, to ignore.

  I turn the page.

  Everything is crumbling around me. I thought when Awlon answered my call that it would be the end of the suffering, the longing, the hardship. I would be out from under the wing of my mother and Sire, and as unusual as my circumstances are, there was nothing that could be done for it. The Sovereign of the Dark Ouphe won’t be denied, and like it or not, he’s taken a half blood for a mate.

  What a stupid eyas I was.

  All hope that others would accept the match have quickly crumbled to ash in my heart. They want me dead. They want him dead. They want the baby inside of me dead. Tension between the Gryphons and Ouphe come closer to boiling over every day. Neither side has a firm grip on power, and things here are getting very dangerous. My lady’s maid, Sedora, thinks she has found a way for us, but I’m terrified to get my hopes up. I feel certain that one day we will need to run, but I worry that once we start, we will never be able to stop. May the stars watch over us and guide us to safety.

  I turn to the next page, but there’s nothing. I flip through the rest of the book, but every last page after is blank. I spread the pages so I can inspect the binding, but as far as I can tell, nothing has been ripped out. There are only four entries. I read through each one of them again. I slow down, studying each syllable as if there might be some unseen meaning hidden between the words.

  Four entries that explain so much and simultaneously answer so little. I can say with no sliver of doubt that this is in fact my mother. The use of my dad’s name is a dead giveaway, but this is a life she never spoke of to me. How could this be her start in life? What happened between the last entry and the day that they died?

  The car accident story Gran told me is looking less and less plausible. Ouphe and Gryphons are tough and live very long lives, it would have taken more than a car crash to have ripped them away from me. The sentence in the last entry reaches out and bites me like an angry snake.

  My lady’s maid, Sedora, thinks she has found a way for us.

  I stare at the words My lady’s maid, Sedora. Gran wasn’t even my gran, not by blood anyway. She served my mother and then, I suppose, me when they died. The room spins, and I try to take it all in. I recall weird things that Nadi said when we sat together in the dead Ouphe city of Vedan. She said something about the last Ouphe with my kind of magic died twenty years ago. But how did she know that? My dad and mom didn’t die here, so how would the people of this world know what was happening in another world?

  Questions upon questions begin piling up in my head. I try to sort through them, arrange them by importance, so if the opportunity for more answers ever comes my way again, I know what to ask and search for first. My head starts throbbing again, and I lie back in the bed, my mother’s journal next to me.

  “Pidge, what did she mean when she said she sang for him? Do you sing for your mate when you find him?” I ask, closing my eyes and throwing my forearm over my face to help block out the light.

  Pigeon sends a flash of something I can’t make out and fills me with an emotion I’m not sure how to decipher. It’s uncertainty laced with confusion and edged in...pride maybe. I have no idea what she’s trying to say.

  Tysa talked about the call, but at the time, the mating habits of Gryphons were about as far from my mind as could be. I thought of it as more of a dating thing. She asked him out, he said yes, the rest is history. But now, I’m wondering if there’s more to it. What my mom described seemed more like an instinctual phenomenon, possibly even fated mates.

  Growing up, talk of fated mates amongst wolves was more of an old wives’ tale. There was talk that it could happen, but no one I knew—and no one they knew, for that matter—had ever seen it. In the pack, you chose, and once you chose, you bonded or imprinted on your mate for life. Yes, there could be an instinctual drive from your wolf to pursue another wolf, but it was still a choice.

  The image of a book that probably will have some answers pops up in my mind. I remember pulling it from the shelves in the archives and reading the golden script on the cover. The Call: Understanding Gryphon Courtship and Mating Habits. I pulled the book into my stack to have an Archivist return it to its proper home, but I forgot about it. I’m pretty sure it’s still sitting in a stack of books on my table. I take a deep breath, which turns into a huge yawn. Tomorrow I’ll look through it and see what I can find.

  11

  “Whatever you two are doing, it isn’t working,” Gran growls. “She got mad at a neighbor kid and almost partially shifted. If I hadn’t gone out to check on her at exactly that moment, who knows what would have happened?” she adds frantically.

  “I just don’t understand what’s happening. She shouldn’t be shifting until puberty and, Awlon, you said her marks shouldn’t have shown up until then either. Why is this happening so young?” mom demands, worry soaking through every word.

  “I don’t know. If we were home, we could find some answers, but we’re here. We’re completely cut off, and I wish I could explain it all, but I can’t.” Dad sounds defeated, and I watch him sit heavily down into his favorite chair and put a hand over his eyes. His black hair is short now, but I like it most when it’s white like mine. “Either it’s our blood triggering her abilities early or something outside is doing it. I’ve heard of Ouphe getting their marks young if they’re in a threatening environment. It’s very rare, but there have been cases of it. However, Falon is safe, so that can’t be the case here.”

  Gran crosses her arms over her chest and gives a disapproving grunt. She leans against the arm of the sofa and watches dad rub the bridge of his nose. “Will she ever really be safe?” she grumbles.

  “Sedi, please don’t start. We’re doing the best that we can for her,” mom snaps.

  “You say that like it makes it all right, Noor. But what if your best is not enough? Why can you never see that?” Gran replies evenly, but she has that look in her eyes she gets when I better listen to her or else.

  “And what would you have us do?” dad demands.

  I flinch as though the anger in his tone is aimed at me and sink back deeper into the shadows.

  “For starters, tell her the truth about herself. Tell her about what she can do. Have you never thought that the issues with the marks, the magic, and the shifting are because she doesn’t understand it and therefore has no idea how to control it?”

  “She’s not even five yet,” mom s
tates, exasperated, throwing her hands up and sitting down on the couch like it’s all just too much. She does that a lot these days.

  “She’s smart, Noor. You’re doing wrong by that eyas by keeping her in the dark. You should be helping her understand, helping her manage it all, not stealing her marks, not binding her abilities!”

  “Enough, Sedora!” dad yells, and I cover my mouth as a whimper escapes. “You have made your views plain. But Falon is not yours, and you have no say in the decisions we make.”

  “How dare you?” Gran seethes, pushing off the wall and stepping toward him. “I have left everything I know behind to serve this family, to protect you. I love Falon just as you do, and I won’t stand by and watch you destroy who she is out of fear and selfishness. I say enough is enough. It’s time she knew!”

  Gran turns to walk away, her footsteps in the plush carpet heavy and mad. She moves closer to where I’m hiding in the corner, and I freeze, worried that I’ve been found.

  “Get your hands off of me!” Gran yells at the same time mom asks, “Awlon, what are you doing?”

  I stare, frozen in shock as dad shoots out of his chair and grabs Gran from behind.

  “I bind you, Sedora, steward to my family. I bind your tongue from speaking about who and what Falon is. I bind your animal from ever revealing itself again. I bind you to us so that you may never leave. I mark you and bind you; as it is spoken, it is so.

  “Savo truss farin tamod quass. Mayhara elod tamod leerah. Rukke seeri wain voru halturenna.”

  “Awlon, no!” mom commands as she tries and fails to pull dad’s arms from around Gran. Gran is crying as dad uses the power words he tells me I should never use. I step out of my hiding spot and run to Gran. I try to pull at dad’s hands and scream for him to stop like mommy is. But he doesn’t stop.

  “You’re hurting my gran!” I scream as my own tears spill down my cheeks.

  Gran gasps like I hurt her, and I let go, worried that I have. Dad steps away from her, and she looks at me while mom and dad fight. I don’t understand what I see in Gran’s eyes, but it makes me so sad. I open my arms like she does for me when my heart feels too much and I need cuddles. But it just makes Gran look sadder. Maybe if I draw her a picture, she’ll feel happy. She always likes my pictures, especially when I draw the sky.

  I turn to go get my colors for Gran, but dad calls me. He has that mad voice again, and I don’t want to turn around. He speaks more power words, and I’m suddenly so tired. I drop to the ground so I can lie down. I look over, surprised to see Gran standing next to me. Why is she crying? I’m so tired. I’ll have to ask her when I wake up.

  I jerk awake with a gasp. Sorrow, confusion, and anger surge through me like a tidal wave, and I roll over to my side and pull my arms and legs into me.

  What the fuck did my dad do?

  I can’t reconcile the happy lime green eyes of my memories with what I just saw. How could he? I’m not sure if I’m asking on behalf of my gran or me. I wipe at my wet cheeks and wonder why the flashes are surfacing now. I think back to the crumbling of the ring on my finger. Is that really it though? Could one ring change how I look, what I can do, what I can remember?

  Pain lances through me as I’m once again reminded of how little I know about myself. My gran was right, my parents should have told me the truth; instead, they took things from me. Memories, abilities...more...I know there’s more, but I can’t pin down exactly what. Even now, this fog that’s always been in my head is still thick and heavy.

  They did this to me.

  I fold in on myself as much as possible and try to understand the why of it all. No matter how hard I try though, I can’t. Anger slowly stalks through my body. So far, I’ve aimed all my frustration and vitriol at my gran, but she didn’t do this.

  She didn’t do this.

  I repeat the truth again and instantly feel even more awful. I’ve been so pissed at her this whole time I’ve been here, and none of this was her fault. It’s clear that even in death, she was trying to show me the truth. She was trying to help me understand.

  “I’m so sorry, Gran,” I lament, and then I let the floodgates open. Everything she did was out of love...to protect me...even from my parents.

  I shove away thoughts of my dad and my mother. I don’t know how to deal with them or with what they did. I don’t even know what in my head I can trust and what I can’t. I love them, I have my whole life. I’ve always remembered them as loving and attentive, but right now, hate and anger at the thought of them overwhelms everything else. Is my whole childhood some brainwashed inception? I’m so pissed off right now, and I have no idea what to do about it. How do you yell at dead people? How do you get them to understand that they fucked up?

  I laugh hollowly at my stupid questions. They’re gone. They have been since I was five. What do they care when it comes to the consequences of their actions? I think of Treno’s parents and the war their actions caused. We’re all just suffering and trying to make the best of what’s been done to us. Loss and frustration simmer inside of me, and I wish there was something I could do to get rid of it.

  Suddenly, lying here, fetal and fuming, feels pathetic. I push out of bed and stomp into the bathroom where I angrily bathe and clean up. I march over to my new pants and bras and get dressed, irritated even more that the thoughtful gift Treno gave me doesn’t sweeten the sourness I feel saturating my every cell right now. I throw a linen shirt on over my makeshift bra and pick up the book that I set on the table last night and throw it across the room.

  The pages make a fluttering sound as they sail through the air, and then a thunk fills the room as my mother’s journal slams against the tree trunk growing in the corner. It falls to the ground and spreads open to reveal a blank page.

  “Fuck you,” I snap at the book, and then I pull the doors open and walk out of the room, unsure of what to do.

  Dri and Sice aren’t standing sentry outside of the doors like I expect, and I pause, even more confused by the fact that it seems I was left alone. Irritation and aggression feel like static in my limbs, and I can practically feel Pigeon ruffle her feathers inside of me. Both of us are itching to rage, to hunt, to tear something apart. She flashes an image of a Cynas and Mogus, and I snort and shake my head as I wander through the crystalline building I’ve been calling home since I got here.

  “I don’t think we’ll get lucky enough to find another Mogus infestation this soon, but maybe we can find lessons like Sutton had in the Eyrie,” I tell her.

  Pigeon rolls her eyes and gives an irritated squawk that makes me cringe.

  “I didn’t mean that you didn’t know how to hunt or fight on your own, Pidge. Don’t take it personally. I’m just saying that I don’t know how to hunt or fight on my own,” I explain.

  She flashes me Mr. Miyagi. I stop mid step and stare at the famous character from Karate Kid for a minute.

  “You want me to wax something?” I tease, not able to keep myself from ruffling her feathers. What can I say, I’m a petty bitch who won’t forget all the fucked up situations she didn’t help with when we first got here.

  Pigeon snaps her beak at me in our mind, and I laugh at the impotent threat.

  “You do know that ripping my head off is the same as ripping your own head off, right? I don’t even think it’s physically possible, so now you just look like a dodo bird.”

  Pigeon starts to angrily recede inside of me, and I roll my eyes.

  “You’re very sensitive for a turkey that likes to leave me hanging on the regular, Pidge. You still expected me to talk to you after the whole Zeph and Ryn ‘cleansing’ thing, and the ‘let’s not clue Falon in on anything’ bullshit you also like to pull. So don’t play the pout card with me,” I scold, and I feel her huff.

  She doesn’t go anywhere, so I take that as a good sign.

  “Okay, you want to Miyagi me—does that mean you would like to teach me to hunt and fight?” I ask in a voice normally reserved for little kids.


  Pigeon shoots me a look that clearly expresses she’s not impressed by my placating tone. This time I let out a huff.

  “Fine. We’ll do it your way, but, Pigeon, I need to learn how to fight in my form too, and no offense, how are you going to help with that?” I ask.

  Pigeon gives me an indignant snort and sends me an image of a wing patting me on the head. I recycle the unimpressed look she previously gave me and sling it back at her. I watch in my mind as a feather is pressed against my lips like it’s a finger meant to shush me, and then Pigeon signals for me to follow her. I can’t help but chuckle at the cheekiness of it all, while simultaneously being annoyed.

  Patrick Swayze’s voice fills my mind, saying, “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” Only I mentally edit it to say, “Nobody shushes Falon with a feather.”

  Pigeon and I both chuckle, and she flashes me the sky and a clearing. I look around at the mostly empty halls and wonder if I’m allowed to just leave. I shake my head at that thought, because I’m a grown ass woman and should just go wherever the fuck I want to go. I turn the corner and notice a guard standing solitary in the corner.

  “Hello,” I greet him and move in his direction. “I’m just going to go find some space to...uh...exercise. Just wanted to let you know, in case anyone needs me for anything,” I tell him, waving awkwardly and stepping away from him when he looks at me like he could give two fucks what I’m going to do.

  I continue to back away, shooting a thumbs up in the direction of the guard who is now ignoring me, and aim a glare at Pigeon when she cracks up inside of me. I’m pretty sure she’s mocking my I’m a grown ass woman thoughts from before and...well, frankly...it’s rude.

  “I probably just saved us from getting shot out of the sky by one of those net thingies. Remember how lovely that felt,” I point out smugly, making my way to the closest balcony.