Page 16 of Ties of Death (Tethered Hearts)

16

A Bid for the Throne

I t doesn’t take Daenn long to find one of our enemies. He must have had Storm land us near where he thought they fell, because I can still see him through the trees when he crouches down.

I stay pinned to the ground for a few minutes until my heart rate slows, and then I force myself up to help Daenn. He shouldn’t have to deal with the bodies alone.

I find him kneeling over the gruesome corpses. I grit my teeth to keep my stomach’s contents in my body, but it takes effort, because with this sight another realization slams into me: I killed a man. No, I didn’t stab him like Daenn, but I wielded my magic against him, and he’s dead as a result.

I am a killer.

I didn’t cry over nearly dying, but somehow this has my eyes watering. I blink back the tears. We don’t have time for me to fall apart. I’m sure it’s unavoidable, that soon I will have to face what I’ve done, but I will put it off for as long as I can.

I rip my gaze away from the awful wounds and find Daenn watching me.

“Emana…”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly, focusing my gaze on the clan colors the rider wears. I hear a quiet sigh from Daenn, but he lets me be. Gratitude has me fighting back the tears even more than before. Stupid tears.

I blink again and study the clothes. I can place the clan colors now that I’m not hurtling to my death. “They’re South Peak riders.”

Viggo’s clan. Daenn doesn’t say it, but I know he’s thinking the same thing I am.

Viggo is behind this. Whether Viggo intended them to only kill Daenn or to kill us both doesn’t really matter. What matters is that he made a bid for the throne, and if he’s done this here, winds only know what he’s done at home.

Suddenly, the three days we’ll take to get back home feel too long.

We find Raindrop’s saddle, but no Raindrop. We collect what we can, but only so much will fit in Storm’s saddlebags, which are already mostly full with other supplies.

“Perhaps she panicked and flew back to the mountain,” I finally say. I can’t help the hope threading the words. Gryphons are precious, and losing even one is a tragedy in the clan.

“Perhaps.” Daenn’s agreement is stoic, not betraying any of the worry and anger I can sense simmering in him. Now that I’ve realized that I can feel him over the bond, it’s so easy to tell, especially with how my tattoo warms and tingles whenever I sense his emotions. It’s incredible—unbelievable, even—that I didn’t make the connection before.

I wonder if he knows, if he’s realized that he can feel my emotions too, but I’m afraid to ask. If he did, how long has he been seeing into my heart?

It’s almost a relief that he doesn’t exactly give me a chance to ask as we assess and gather things from the damaged saddle.

And then we’re returning to Storm. Daenn stops at his gryphon’s head, setting his forehead against Storm’s. A peace settles over him as he communes with his gryphon, a hum that reaches into me through our bond and soothes me too.

I’ve never been so jealous of a gryphon bond before.

“Is he going to be all right carrying both of us?”

Daenn shrugs. Without the link, I never would have noticed the undercurrent of worry that clings to him. He hides it well. “He is probably one of the few gryphons who could do such a long distance, but even he will have to go slower than usual. We should still reach the temple by nightfall.”

Nightfall, instead of midday, as we had originally expected. How long, then, will it take us to get home if Storm has to carry us both?

Daenn helps me up into his saddle, settling me in front, and then he leaps on behind me. His warmth is a wall at my back, his breaths a breeze against my ear.

My traitorous body wants to sink back against him, sink into the safety that instantly envelops me, as if everything else he’s done recently doesn’t matter, only the fact that he saved me. Protected me.

I don’t have time to argue my body out of it, however, because as soon as Storm pushes off the ground, working to gain air, I reflexively lean against Daenn for support, and, in response, he wraps one arm around my waist tightly. A wave of protectiveness softens his constant worry and anger.

There’s no point trying to speak as we fly—our words would be lost to the wind—so I let my thoughts wander, and, maybe just a little, I let myself savor the safety of being protected by Daenn Henriken.