Page 8

8

I’d forgotten that Xander and I had quietly agreed to find a replacement for Whitby as our ring bearer, mainly because Whitby really, really didn’t want to do it. And we’d apparently picked a fine day to go and visit Zephyr at his clifftop roost, finding him in a cheerful mood. Then again, Zephyr was pretty much always in a good mood when Xander and I showed up with armloads of rotisserie chickens.

Six of them between us this time, in fact. Zephyr could be a bit of a diva at the best of times — quite the understatement — so I wanted to be sure that our bribe would go over well. Both Xander and I genuinely wanted him at our wedding, and what’s more, how badass would it be to have a gryphon in our entourage?

But again: diva. After tucking into three entire rotisserie chickens, good old Zephyr was still playing hard to get.

“Preposterous.” Zephyr slammed his paw into the ground, his favored way of adding emphasis, but also of drawing attention. “A whole other creature, all for the purpose of bearing a rock? Ridiculous. Truly a waste of energy and space.”

I riffled my hands through my hair in frustration. “Zeph, man, come on. It’s actually such an important part of a human wedding. You would play such an important part. Can’t have a wedding without a ring bearer.”

Xander bit his tongue, possibly because both of us had mentally stumbled upon the same realization. A ring bearer, in most situations, could be one of two things. It was either a small child or the family dog. Sharing this information with Zephyr clearly wouldn’t make him consider the idea any more favorable. That is, unless we actually bribed him with a small child or a family dog.

Another slam of his paw as he glared at me sidelong. “I still find it highly offensive that you believe me deserving of this dubious honor. Would not a bear be the more appropriate selection for such a lowly occupation? Stinking, earthbound brutes that they are. Not even good for eating. Too tough and stringy for my taste.”

I rubbed my face in both hands, kneading my temples with my fingertips. Xander chuckled under his breath.

“Zephyr,” I said. “Bears have nothing to do with it. You’re an important part of our life — someone we consider a friend — and it would mean so much to have you as an important part of this important day.”

“And Jack hasn’t even mentioned the best part.” Xander reached out, running his fingers through the gryphon’s feathers. “Everybody gets dressed up because it’s a very special occasion, and the person in charge of all our garments had something very special in mind for you. Ribbons.”

I cocked an eyebrow, trying not to show Zephyr my confusion. When did Xander and Beatrice have a conversation about dressing Zephyr up in ribbons? Unless — was he bluffing? My beautiful groom lying straight through his teeth to get the stubborn gryphon to attend our wedding. As if I could love him any harder.

Zephyr tilted his head. “Ribbons, you say? Adornments, then. Like one of your human soldiers.”

I shrugged. “Or, you know, like a little girl. Nice and fancy, either way.”

“Yes,” he said, eyes sharp, boring into the distance. “Nice and fancy, and formidable. A formidable little girl soldier, bloodied in battle, her talons dripping with blood, her hair dripping with ribbons.”

“That’s — that’s not the picture I had in mind, but — ”

Xander elbowed me in the ribs. “Shush. Don’t fight him on this. He’s coming around.”

“And the ceremonial extent of my responsibilities would include defending these so-called bits of jewelry of yours with my life. Is that correct?”

“They’re called rings, Zeph. Like one of these.” I held up my hand to show him my engagement ring. “And no, I’m quite sure you won’t have to actually defend them from robbers or anything. Not that anyone would be dumb enough to try.”

“You humans and your strange fancies, adorning your bodies with all sorts of trinkets. A polished rock, of all things. Here, have your pick of any rock you like.” He stretched out one talon, squinting at a particularly average specimen. “Except for that one. That one’s my favorite.”

Xander grinned. “We remember, Zephyr. You’ve shown us before. It’s certainly very pretty. So, what do you say? Will you join me and Jack and all the rest of our friends? We’d be honored to have you there.”

One more decisive slam from Zephyr’s paw, tossing up a cloud of dust and debris. “Very well. I shall participate in this human ceremony of yours. It appears to be very important to the both of you indeed, which is why you chose to invite a very important gryphon as your guest.”

“Most definitely,” I said with a straight face, quietly amused. You had to admire his chutzpah. “And that’s fantastic news! We can’t wait to see you at the wedding. You’re going to look amazing, buddy. Everyone’s going to love it.”

If gryphons could smile, Zephyr would be smiling. He raised his beak in the air and sniffed. “And there will, of course, be some form of compensation. Yes. A meal that befits a guest of my status.”

“Absolutely,” Xander said. “We’ll have a glorious feast laid out especially for you. You won’t regret it.”

Zephyr cleared his throat. “In gryphon etiquette, it is of course customary to serve the dishes in ascending order of prey. I understand that this should also allow for optimum time to properly cook each animal.”

I cocked an eyebrow as Xander eagerly made note of Zephyr’s wedding-specific dietary preferences. Gryphon etiquette, eh? Cute. But whatever it took to get him to show up. We wanted all our friends there, human or otherwise. And Zephyr most of all.

Whether or not he knew, Zephyr had been instrumental in getting me and Xander together. Allowing the two of us to take a ride on his back, “accidentally” stranding us on a clifftop, bringing us closer in every way? Gods above and below, I couldn’t have asked for a better wingman.

Xander and I left Zephyr’s roost in high spirits, which was only funny to think of because we actually were way up high, counting on the slow descent of my hovering boots to take us safely down to the ground.

I embraced him tight, hands encircled around the small of his back. He held me even tighter, his shoes planted firmly on top of my boots, his fingers clinging for dear life. Kudos to Xander for coming with me to visit Zephyr every time, even if the painfully slow levitation made him a little nervous.

“One of these days,” I told him, “you’ll learn a flying spell that’ll zip us up and down these cliffs in no time. Could be super useful for when we do some hunting and harvesting too, don’t you think?”

He frowned. “Come on, Jack. You know that’s my weak point. Sore point? Both. Flight and teleportation, they’re both very challenging to pull off. I always had a tough time with them at Grayhaven. Never did get a good handle on transportation magic.”

“We always thought you could be good at it with just a little more work.”

My blood froze even in the dry heat of the blistering sun. There she was, just past Xander’s head. The goddess of magic floated gently downward, matching our pace. The way Xander’s eyes had gone wide, staring hard past my ear, I could tell that he was facing his own copy of Hecate.

She was a triune goddess, after all. How could I forget? And where was the third Hecate? Probably waiting for us down below.

“Neither the right time nor the right place, Hecate.” I leveled my copy of the goddess with my gaze, keeping both my voice and my demeanor stern. “I can’t imagine why you’ve come to see us out here, but something tells me this isn’t just a courtesy visit.”

Without ever slowing or speeding up, perfectly following our descent with her own, Hecate’s body rotated upside down. When she was standing before, she had now entered a swan dive, falling headfirst, her pure black gaze as nonchalant as ever.

I could have excused it as something so playful, part of her madness and whimsy, but I knew better. By quietly underlining Xander’s lost potential for learning to fly, this was Hecate’s way of reminding us that her mastery of magic was unrivaled. She could fly in any formation she desired.

She could swat us out of the sky any time she wanted.

“You are correct, fleshling. We have come to inquire about your impending ceremony of betrothal. It seems our invitation has become lost in the ether. And to celebrate your love in the palace of a fae king as well! What a truly momentous occasion, indeed.”

She couldn’t be serious. After everything we’d been through? I resented her more with every passing second, feeling foolish about having to field a meddling goddess’s questions while Xander and I were so vulnerable. We literally had to hold on to each other to survive. Why the ambush? Why here? Why now?

This close, I could hear Xander gulping, a mouthful of nervous saliva going down his throat. “I’m sorry, Hecate, but you aren’t invited to the wedding.”

“Is that so?” True to her sinister nature, the goddess held her silence for a beat too long. “May we ask why that is the case?”

Anger flared in my body, hotter than the sun above. “Are you really asking that? Because we don’t trust you, Hecate. Not anymore, not after this long game you’ve played with Grayhaven, not after you planted a bomb inside my body with a kiss.”

Xander squeezed my hip, then coughed softly, as if signaling for me to slow down. “You’re a goddess of Earth, Hecate. Even in your guise as Madame Cathee, the fae will sense that something about you is amiss eventually. Old rivalries run deep, and while I’m sure the Verdance is glad to be rid of Titania’s destruction, the fae won’t take kindly to the knowledge that you’ve murdered one of their own. A queen, no less.”

Hecate rotated again, putting herself upright this time. Her expression still hadn’t changed, neither a smile nor a frown. But it was always difficult to tell with her ever-shifting features, harder still when we were having this conversation in free fall.

“More’s the pity,” she said with a sigh. “We were so hoping to witness such a wondrous wedding. And you may not believe it, fleshlings, but we are actually very good at picking out gifts. Nothing at all like that old tale that you like to read to your little children. The one about the powerful sorceress who wasn’t invited to a royal wedding. The one who felt so spurned and gifted the kingdom with a curse.”

“Sleeping Beauty.” Xander’s breath hitched. His fingers dug into my side. “And it wasn’t a sorceress. It was an evil faerie.”

Hecate chuckled mirthlessly, waving a hand. “Details, details. We must accept that you do not wish for us to make an appearance at the ceremony. This is understood. We only regret that we are unable to bless you with our divine presence — and our gift.”

I realized I could hear both her copies, like standing between two speakers. With a sickening twist of my stomach I realized I could hear a third speaker far below.

“Jackson, please,” Xander muttered, his hands squeezing tighter. He could tell by the look on my face alone.

“Is this some kind of sick threat, Hecate? I know the kinds of gifts you like to give, and we’re not interested. How much more chaos are you planning to wreak? Your kiss, the blast that killed Titania — I’m starting to think that this isn’t the first time you’ve done something quite this bombastic. Quite this explosive.”

“Jackson,” Xander said, his voice softer, yet somehow steelier. “Don’t go there. Don’t.”

Hecate tilted her head. “No, Jackson Pryde. Please, do go on. Please tell us all that you’ve observed about our ‘explosive’ and ‘bombastic’ behavior.”

Xander’s eyes stared pleadingly into mine. We both knew that the best course of action was to hold my tongue. Like a fool, I opened my mouth.

“The Halls of Making,” I said, looking straight into the inky-black pools of Hecate’s eyes. “The original Halls of Making, the blast that destroyed the guild. You had something to do with it, didn’t you?”

If there was a change in Hecate’s mood, it was imperceptible. She folded her arms across her chest, her reaction still impossible to place.

“You do wound us, fleshling. Twice now you’ve injured us with your words. You understand that we only permit this because of our fondness for you, yes? But the Halls of Making — quite the baseless accusation you’ve made. And hurtful, too. All we know is that the detonation on that fateful day was indeed of a magical nature.”

How could I stop my mouth from running now? “So you don’t deny it, then? You were involved somehow.”

“Jackson,” Xander shouted. “That’s quite enough.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I — I can’t let go of this. You owe me the truth, Hecate.”

The goddess scoffed. “You’re a far smarter man than this, Jackson Pryde. You are an artificer, are you not? One who experiments to determine what is and isn’t. What should and shouldn’t be. What would your parents think of your scattershot approach to finding facts, to targeting the truth?”

“Don’t bring my parents into this,” I snarled. “For all I know, you could have been responsible for their deaths, for all of those pointless deaths at the old guild.”

Hecate clucked her tongue. “Octavian would never have made such an elementary mistake. Luciana would have known to shine the light of her intellect elsewhere. And neither of them would have made something quite so shoddy as these rudimentary boots of flying that you’ve fashioned for yourself.”

My stomach lurched before I had a chance to say a single word. Xander’s fingernails bit into my skin, piercing through my clothing as the pair of us wobbled unsteadily in the air. My heart thumped against my ribcage. What the hell was happening?

“If this is your doing, Hecate, I swear — ”

“You swear what, fleshling? And to whom? To all the gods above and below? Save us your pitiful mewling. Focus now on saving yourself and one of our most prized students from death by catastrophic failure.”

My nose wrinkled at the smell of smoke. What the fuck? I glanced down, eyes widening when I saw the trails of black emanating from the soles of my boots. How could Hecate stoop so low?

And speaking of low — we were still an uncomfortably lethal distance off the ground. If my boots continued to malfunction, we would never make it down alive.

“Hang on tight,” I told Xander.

He nodded, hugging me harder than ever, his chin digging into my shoulder, his breath hot on my ear as he barked the words to a spell.

“Arma grandia.”

Red light gleamed in a bubble around us, the force field slowly shrinking until it fused with our bodies, encasing each of us in a protective barrier of magic. And right there was yet another reason I couldn’t wait to marry this man. He was always two steps ahead.

I swallowed hard, fighting the stab of fear in my chest. We were going to make it out of this alive, one way or another. We had a wedding to attend. I closed my eyes, steadying my breath as we continued to fall.

The armor spell might help to absorb part of the impact, but we still had to brace ourselves for the possibility of grievous injury. Broken bones weren’t out of the question. Then Xander tugged on the back of my shirt. I opened my eyes, glancing down where he was pointing.

My stomach did a flipflop. Far below, down where the third copy of Hecate was waiting, something was rising up from the dry earth, punching through dirt and rock. My jaw dropped when I recognized the shape rising out of the deep and heading straight toward us: a massive hand formed completely out of rock.

Without comparing with the goddess’s form I already knew that this was an enormously scaled-up version of her own hand. Where had the other images of Hecate gone? I blinked. The third one on the ground had disappeared, too. And upward, ever upward the hand of stone sped, open as if ready to grasp — ready to crush. I held Xander in my arms, cradled his head against my chest.

And then a gentle slowing in our fall. Cautiously I opened my eyes, shocked to find that the rocky hand had indeed rushed up to collect us in its grip, but without the intent to pulverize. Delicately, between elegantly sculpted fingers thicker than my legs, the hand held the pair of us like wounded birds.

Within moments the hand had delivered us to the ground. It kept descending, disappearing underground, leaving the reddened earth as smooth and unblemished as before.

I sat on the ground with my legs splayed. “What the hell just happened? Did she suddenly decide we weren’t worth killing? She’s playing with us, isn’t she?”

“Jack,” Xander said, crossing his legs underneath him. “Look.”

He pointed at my hovering boots. One of them had a gash in the sole, exposing the precious metal wiring, the crystals that powered the enchantment of partial flight.

“I knew it,” I muttered. “She sabotaged us.”

“Are you so sure about that?” He bent closer, peeling back a flap of my boot’s sole. “This piece here could have been shredded by a sharp piece of rock. They’re everywhere around these parts. Jack, this could just be a problem of wear and tear. What if there was no sabotage?”

I glowered down at the ruined boot, more confused than ever.

Was Hecate trying to kill us, or was she really trying to help us after all?