by Anthea Sharp
After another month, Akin fought less.
Sadly, everyone seemed that way.
Except me.
After Rhys’s lessons in the morning, he came for me and took me to the castle. At first, his governess didn’t approve.
“What a hideous griffin!” she remarked.
He rolled his eyes at her, but turned to me with a wink. “Oh, quiet, Mrs. Gravesend. It’s no bigger than a wolfhound.”
“At least a wolfhound knows how to behave in a household.”
“She’s housebroken—although the same can’t be said for that cur Craigs.”
For the next couple of weeks, I limped after Rhys. He taught me to play chess—but I wasn’t too good at moving the pieces. While he read books in his study, I watched Mrs. Gravesend cross-stitch and knit. I found humans—who lacked claws to defend themselves and wings for flight—to be such frail creatures. But their hands! Those ten digits could do such wondrous things. Write on flat sheets to send messages. Sew garments to keep them warm. Cook delicious meats over a fire.
I envied them in a way, but I would have traded all my new experiences to lift my body off the ground. To soar from high up and safely reach the ground.
The spring’s rains turned to a warm summer. I continued to roam the halls as the young master’s pet. I didn’t like the term “pet,” but Olufe pushed me to obey as well. “You’ll be safer in the house, Ireti,” she’d said one night to me. “Think of Akin.”
We saw our brother less and less. During my time in the castle, Rhys attended many military meetings. I came along as his pet. During one of them, I learned the worst was yet to come. The strongest griffins would be sent south to the southern sea to form an offensive against Cressedin’s enemies.
The army needed the griffins to cross the sea.
As the summer stretched on and I matured, I often caught Rhys staring at me from across the room while he studied. At first, I wondered if he was concerned about my leg, but as the months continued, my bone healed, though I hobbled. But he didn’t stare at me while I walked.
He stared at me when I did nothing at all.
* * *
Rhys
* * *
I stared at her.
I never wanted to admit it to anyone, even after she caught me a few times. After growing up with the griffins in the stables, I’d never seen them as more than wild animals to be domesticated. The griffins never appeared to communicate audibly with each other. They never interacted with humans or crafted tools. From what I could see, they had no culture to speak of.
But Ireti followed me and soaked in everything. As a smaller griffin, she was no taller than my hip, but that never stopped her from darting through the castle’s corridors and exploring.
Also, Mrs. Gravesend’s cross-stitching fascinated her. Once in a while, she disappeared from my side and I’d find her in my governess’s quarters.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Gravesend,” I’d say only to have my governess stiffly reply, “This is my private time, Master Lleweyn. Out the door you go. Your pet may stay.”
Ireti had even won over my stubborn teacher.
During the night, I couldn’t help but dream of her in human form. Ireti’s human hands were small and frail, but her lips were full and my eye couldn’t help but follow the new womanly curves on her body. In a few months’ time, her human form blossomed from a girl into a woman’s. I didn’t want to ask her how griffin’s matured—perhaps asking such questions would reveal my feelings.
As the fall approached, I had more problems I had to face. Not only was the war with the southern islands coming to a head, but my father had plans to prepare his heir for rule.
It was time to tell Ireti what I faced.
So I led her out of the stables one night. The hints of autumn colored the leaves bright red and orange. We often walked at night and the guards never bothered us.
“You seem distant,” she remarked as we strolled from the stable toward the fields. The wind played with her ringlets, and I longed to reach out and run my fingers through them. Were the curls as soft they appeared?
The half-moon hid behind an overcast sky, but I could make out her pensive face. It had been a week since I’d seen her. It was for the best.
“The frontlines to south have worsened,” I began. “Many men have died.”
She clasped her hands behind her back. “So I’ve heard.”
“We will have to send men on the strongest griffins sooner rather than later. They leave at dawn.”
She slowed. I continued, tossing about the number of units needed and potential losses.
“—you’re rambling, Rhys. Do you have anything else to tell me?” she asked softly.
My throat tightened. “At dawn, I will be leaving, too.”
She stumbled.
I kept going before I couldn’t speak anymore. “I have to go—I’ve had to leave for a long time now, but I’d hoped to postpone this moment.”
* * *
Ireti
* * *
My heart plummeted to the ground. I never expected myself to say, “Can I go with you?”
His lower lip quivered. “I wish you could, but I already asked.”
My stomach flipped. So he did want me at his side. Why did he have to leave?
Rhys tried to smile, but an awkward wall fell between us. “The hallways in Dena library are far too narrow,” he added.
A part of me wanted to believe I needed him to stay for survival reasons. I’d never worn as saddle, thanks to him, and I’d learned things no griffin had ever seen.
And yet—pain settled in my chest and spread until I couldn’t catch my breath. I tried to stop tears from welling in my eyes, but they slipped anyway. I cared for him, but I’d never say it. “But if you go—”
“Master Llewelyn!” Governess Gravesend called out. “Where are you?”
We both turned to see Mrs. Gravesend and a stablehand approaching. Once she reached us, her gaze flicked back and forth.
I was grateful for the darkness as my cheeks grew warm.
The older woman said, “You must rest before your journey.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
Our time together was over, and soon I’d have to face my life in the castle without him. In the morning, my brother would fly to the frontlines and Rhys would go to Dena in the north.
Rhys would venture off in the very direction I needed to go home.
Chapter 4
Rhys
* * *
Two years later
* * *
Cressedin’s stronghold hadn’t changed much in the past two years. The castle’s wall had yet to be breached from invaders. The pastures stretched for miles and the fields’ harvests had been taken.
New griffins yanked against chains in the cages while the older griffins milled about in the corrals.
Was Ireti one of them?
During my journey to Dena two years ago, I tried not to think of her or the pleas I made to Mrs. Gravesend to watch out for her.
“Focus on your studies,” my governess always wrote back. She never told me if Ireti was alive or questioned why I cared. Why did I care for a griffin? We could never be together. My father, who recently passed on the responsibilities over Cressedin to me, had already arranged for me to marry another nobleman’s daughter.
Yet, my palms were sweaty, my heart raced, and I couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of seeing Ireti again. It was mid-day—she would be in her natural form somewhere—not waiting for me with the household staff outside the castle’s doors.
The carriage arrived at the castle and only the staff waited.
“Where is Mrs. Gravesend?” I asked the older man who managed the staff.
“She fell a few months ago,” he explained, “and she has been taking it easy ever since then.”
I hurried to Mrs. Gravesend’s quarters, concerned for her well-being, only to find an interesting sight. A griffin, the size of a donkey, sat next to Mrs.
Gravesend’s bed. Relief fell over me as my gaze swept over a startled Ireti. I reached out and ran my hand over her feathered head.
She was alive and well.
“Lord Llewelyn? Do you plan to greet me as well?” my governess asked with a chuckle.
* * *
Ireti
* * *
He’d returned.
But nothing was the same.
After he pulled back, adding distance between us, I couldn’t help beaming—as much a griffin could anyway. He was taller now, with broader shoulders and lean legs. His boyish cheeks blossomed into a square jaw. When he smiled though, his gray eyes deepened to a smoky color.
Rhys greeted Mrs. Gravesend and spoke of his journey from Dena. She nodded at the appropriate moments while I ambled to stand and gather fresh water. Avian fingers didn’t work as well as a human’s, but over the last few months I learned how to carry bowls, offer Mrs. Gravesend water, and keep her shivering body warm during the short summer nights.
Rhys watched me pour a cup of tea with wide eyes.
“How did you?” he began.
I over-poured the tea and accidentally took a bite of the governess’s scone. I wasn’t that good as a griffin caretaker, but Mrs. Gravesend refused to have me sent to the stables. Using my wing for leverage, the older woman eased herself up.
“Thank you,” she said as she accepted the tea and scone.
Rhys tried to intervene, but I used my rear end to bump him out of the way. He chuckled and took a seat near the fireplace. While seated, he noticed a blanket over one of the seats.
“Did you make this?” he asked, running his fingers over the crocheted blanket. “It’s Wura Peak.”
My stomach jumped at the name. Last summer, during the quiet nights, my clumsy hands crafted a scene that was flimsy in my mind, but still there. A single mountain surrounded by clouds and snow. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so once I had the skill, I created it.
Why did I care for this Wura Peak? I wondered at times.
“Ireti needs some fresh air. See her out, will you?” said Mrs. Gravesend with a hint of a grin.
Rhys placed the blanket on the chair and led me out of the room. I was far larger now, but living in the castle taught me the best way to avoid bumping into the furniture or snagging the tapestries on the walls.
“You look well. Your wings are larger now,” he said once we reached outside. The weather was cool, but pleasant. Winter and summer was the same to me. My fur and feathers kept me cool or warm.
I nodded in reply. During times like these, I wished he spoke mindspeak. I’d tell him about all the times I tried to take off—and failed. Now that my wings were bigger, I’d learned one thing. How not to fall. Falling off a cliff was enough.
Also, I had so many questions. What did he learn? What did he see?
Did he miss me?
Rhys turned to the south. I followed his gaze. A vast line of griffins was returning. Not only had Rhys come home, but the griffin army returned also.
My breath hitched in anticipation. Would Akin be among them? Last winter, Olufe told me to forget him. Once hatchlings left the nest, nestmates rarely kept up with each other. Olufe and I were different, but Akin never cared for me.
And yet I watched the griffins, with their respective riders, sweep in. They landed softly. The scars of war marred many Awosanma. They squawked and shrieked at each other, but none of them used mindspeak.
I took a step closer to the corral. Rhys followed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
My gaze scanned the final arrivals, and I finally saw him. He had a ghastly scar along his leg and his tail was shorter. The tip of his beautiful beak was covered in iron.
“Akin!” I called out to him in mindspeak.
He didn’t reply.
The griffins parted as I entered the corral with Rhys beside me. The men greeted their lord as I sought out my brother. Once I reached him, I greeted him too, but his gaze seemed distant. Haunted.
“Ireti,” he finally said in mindspeak.
He didn’t belong here. Neither did I, but I couldn’t quite remember where else we should be.
* * *
That evening, like all of them during this past summer, was peaceful. Usually, I slept in Mrs. Gravesend’s room, but this time, I asked to look after my sister. The females’ stall, which used to buzz with chatter was deathly silent. Everyone was curled up on their sides sleeping.
I found my beloved sister in human-form, with her hair tangled and knotted, lying down facing the wall. We didn’t speak much to each other anymore either.
“Sister,” I said fondly as I lay next to her and wrapped my arms around her waist. I ran my fingers through her hair, trying my best to work through the tangles. The room was dark for a long time until the moon peeked out from under the clouds and shined dim light through a narrow window. The light glimmered on a carving on the wall. For some reason, I paused in my task and stared.
It was the mountain again. Why did I see it everywhere?
Then I recalled Olufe’s smiling face.
“It’s coming along nicely,” she’d said two years ago.
I closed my eyes, and a place I had trouble grasping unfolded before me: wisps of clouds danced along the sheer cliffs. This place was cold year-round, but the griffins belonged there. My sister and brother should be at Wura Peak.
As I finished my sister’s braids, a final plan formed in my mind.
Chapter 5
Ireti
* * *
I had to escape with Olufe and Akin, but I’d need help. I didn’t have many allies in the castle, but one in particular would help me without hesitation. I made my way through the castle, dodging servants carrying breakfast, to Mrs. Gravesend’s room.
She recently had her morning tea, and she sat up in her bed.
“Ireti, good morning, my dear.” She offered me a warm smile, and my heart hurt to think of what I had to do.
I perched next to her bed, claiming the rug the governess left for me. I’d considered all night what I needed to do next.
“What is it?” she asked me, her wrinkled face reflecting concern. “Did my Rhys say something horrible?”
I shook my head and gathered a few pieces of parchment from the governess’s desk. Her bottle of ink would be too messy to use, so using my beak I gently grasped a piece of charcoal from the fireplace.
She waited patiently, watching me while I painstakingly wrote out two words: NEED HELP.
She touched the side of my face with her soft, wrinkled hand. “Take your time. Go slow. I’m not going anywhere until I understand.”
A few hours later, the plan was in place. As the day stretched on into the early afternoon, my stomach formed knot after knot. Would Mrs. Gravesend’s efforts work? We had to leave before sunset.
“Stop pacing and finish packing my things,” the older woman chided.
Using my beak, I grabbed her garments and placed them in her travel chest. A servant would arrive soon to take them to the carriage.
My crocheted blankets were already gone. All I needed was to wait for the servant to fetch us. He arrived in due time. I helped Mrs. Gravesend to her feet and the servant eased her onto my back.
“Neither of us walk too well,” she said with a chuckle.
I limped, but I’d mastered maneuvering about just fine. Soon enough, we reached the carriage. A muzzled Olufe and Akin were chained to the back of the conveyance, their wings covered with the blankets I’d sewn.
Relief filled me, but I couldn’t help looking around to see if Rhys was nearby.
As if reading my thoughts, the old woman whispered, “I’ll send him a letter as I promised. We don’t want him involved in our deception.”
I wanted to say goodbye. Two years ago he’d given me that much.
“Please hurry,” Mrs. Gravesend called to the driver. Our team of horses were just as eager as we were to depart.
A servant tied me to the back of the carriage
, and we set off. Only to reach the gates and find someone waiting for us. Craigs.
“Where do you think you’re going with Thunder?” he barked, glancing at Akin.
As a house griffin, I wouldn’t be missed. Olufe worked to defend the castle, but Akin was a military animal, a trained one at that.
Olufe and I exchanged a glance. Akin’s back claws gripped the soil. We were in chains. There was nothing we could do.
“Get out of my way!” Mrs. Gravesend’s voice was weak, but her command carried authority. “Show him my authorization from his lordship,” she told the driver.
Craigs took the papers, read it, and tossed it to the ground. “You can go, my lady, but Thunder stays.”
Mrs. Gravesend turned, and her mouth formed a determined line. “Ride straight through him then!”
The driver considered the order, then flicked the reins to set the horses to a hard gallop. The carriage jolted forward, and we raced toward Craigs—only to come to a violent stop again when armed soldiers riding griffins descended and barred our path.
Craigs’s smile widened. We’d failed.
“Back off, Stablemaster!” a voice bellowed from behind us. My heart tugged to see Rhys ride up to us on horseback. He dismounted and got into the carriage. “I never got a chance to say goodbye, did I, Mrs. Gravesend?”
“No, you didn’t,” she replied sweetly.
Was this a part of Mrs. Gravesend’s plan all along?
With one gesture, the soldiers on their griffins were forced to part and allow the carriage to roll through. The sun dipped below the horizon. Our time to escape was running out.
We hurried down the stony path to the north.
