Page 28

28

An Unspoken Hope

W e leave before dawn.

Daenn did what he could to clean his armor last night, but there are scores and pits from our battles. He’ll have to give it a more thorough tending after we reclaim Daenn’s throne from his usurping cousin. I am in a clean dress, given to me by the innkeeper, but it’s thin for flying, especially in the pre-dawn chill.

The sun has barely broken over our mountain when we reach our clan. The flight took us little time, but it crawled by for me as my mind whirled with worry. What state will we find the clan in? Daenn left our home in the hands of loyal warriors. Will they all be imprisoned? Dead? Did they turn on Daenn?

Daenn is wrapped around me, like he has been for every flight since Raindrop vanished, but as Storm circles closer to our mountain and my worry tightens like a corkscrew inside me with every circle, he tightens his grip and presses his lips close to my ear.

“I’ll protect you, Emana.”

His words send a shiver through me. Does he think I’m worried about myself? I’m worried for him , for our people. Viggo won’t hurt me. If anything, he’ll try to make me his queen—or mistress, I amend, as I remember that he’s married now.

The idea makes me want to vomit.

The mountain looms before us, closer and closer, and then, barely even slowing, Storm swoops into the eyries.

Most of the gryphons are sleeping. They raise their drowsy heads to peer at us, and a few give low churrs of greeting to their flock member.

Daenn dismounts fluidly, running on silent feet toward the arch leading deeper into the clan caves. A man in full armor, even leather armor, should not be able to move that quietly; it simply defies reason.

I move to dismount too, but Storm spreads his wings, blocking me. He makes a low chiding sound.

“Storm—”

He looks back over his shoulder with his fiercest glare—which from a gryphon, especially one as deadly as Storm, is enough to stop me mid-protest.

Daenn must have told him to keep me here somehow, to ensure Storm could escape with me if necessary.

I dislike that he would try to send me away and leave him without any help. The thought makes me hot and prickly all over. He will definitely hear about this later.

A sharp cry cuts off before it can even truly begin. I tense and look where Daenn vanished.

He’s striding back toward us, sheathing a small dagger as he goes.

He stops by Storm’s side. “I’ve taken care of the men Viggo had watching the eyries, but we should move quickly in case he has anyone patrolling. Storm, you stay here. If anyone tries to escape, stop them. No one leaves this mountain until I say so. ”

Storm ruffles his feathers, which shouldn’t be a foreboding motion, but he's a gryphon—so naturally, it is.

Daenn pulls me from Storm’s back, his grip strong at my waist. I steady myself with hands on his chest. Before he can release me and step back, I curl my hands to grip his leather armor as best as I can and I meet his eyes. He’s so close—his green eyes draw me in, and I can imagine leaning forward, pressing my lips to his. He must catch my flare of desire, because his eyes spark and his brows pull together.

“I’m with you, Daenn,” I say, putting my heart into those words. I can’t explain my tangle of feelings to him—I can’t even explain them to myself—but I need him to know this much. “We stand together.”

If there’s a note of accusation for his scheming with Storm, well, that can’t be helped.

He goes still under my hands. Grief stabs through me, hot and sharp, before he jerks it away and buries it under gratitude.

Why is he grieving again? Sometimes I hate this bond between us. It raises more questions than it answers, leaves me bewildered.

Before I can probe about his buried grief, his gloved hands cover mine. “Thank you, my queen.”

The words destroy me, take me apart piece by piece. I have done nothing to earn the title; I haven’t acted in a manner befitting a queen. And I won’t be one for long.

I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin. That changes now. I will be a strong, resilient queen until his magic is purged and he releases me. I will stand by him; I will defend him as he has defended me.

The hallways between the eyries and the great hall are empty, disconcertingly so for the hour. People should be hurrying about, starting their days. With each step we take, tension and worry mount in my stomach, growing until my whole body is heavy with them. Beside me, Daenn carries his sword. I’m not sure when he drew it, but he looks like a man ready to commit violence—calm, focused, lethal violence. I have no doubt he can and will cut down anyone who dares face him.

When we near the great hall, the low susurration of bodies finally reaches us, but there’s very little speaking in the mix of sounds.

Daenn halts at the end of the hallway, just around the corner from the great hall’s entrance. “Is there any way I’ll convince you to stay out here?”

I stare at him.

I feel the sigh over our bond more than I hear it: complete resignation.

“Stay behind me, Emi.”

I give him a nod; that I can do. I’m not a warrior. I’ll happily let him carve our path with his sword.

His gaze sweeps over my face one more time, like he’s trying to drink me in before it’s too late, and for a moment I lean forward, an unspoken hope twisting through me—but then he’s turning away. I exhale and put away my disappointment. I’m not even sure what I hoped for. It’s not like Daenn was going to kiss me. The man won’t even let our skin touch. And I shouldn’t want him to. Not touch me. Not kiss me. That’s so far from what I want. I want to leave; I want to be free.

Yes. That’s… that’s what I want. Such a sparkling future. All alone.

I start after my husband, snuffing out my misery and replacing it with anger. Until we’ve dealt with Viggo and his greed, what I want is inconsequential .

The doors to the great hall are open. The two guards to either side wear the colors of the South Peak Clan. They must be so bored that they’re falling asleep on the job; it’s the only reasonable explanation for why neither of them even stirs until Daenn is nearly upon them.

They scramble upright, though, when it’s clear he has no intention of stopping, and they drop their spears to block his path.

“I am your king. I suggest you step aside before I remove you.” Daenn speaks with quiet menace. I am incredibly grateful that I stand at his back instead of in his way.

The guards shift, but they hold their post. The one on the left speaks in a gravelly but unsure voice. “Viggo Agnarken is our king now. You left your throne. We thought you dead.”

“No, your spineless clansmen didn’t quite get the job done.” Daenn shifts the sword in his grip, and their eyes trail the movement. “Last chance.”

The righthand man breaks ranks and turns to run. “Intruder! Daenn Henrik—”

Daenn’s sword silences the man before he makes it two steps. Daenn spins and fells the second man, disarming and wounding him.

Beyond him I see the hall—it’s full. Our entire clan is here, as well as a great number of other gryphon clansmen—more of Viggo’s minions he’s swayed to his misguided cause. Why Viggo has gathered them all so early in the morning is anyone’s guess, but the faces I recognize look discontent—but it quickly shifts to surprise as they turn to look at Daenn.

Viggo lords over the room, sitting in Daenn’s throne. His face is a mask of shock and outrage as he stares at Daenn.

Daenn focuses on Viggo. He takes a step, and another, stalking forward like a gryphon who’s sighted his next meal. I follow, keeping my steps quiet. I don’t want to draw attention to myself—I can better help Daenn if I go unnoticed.

I needn’t have worried; every eye is glued on my husband. When he speaks, it’s low and angry, and I don’t doubt everyone in the room can hear him.

“I challenge you, Viggo Agnarken, traitor of the Allied Gryphon Clans. If you want my throne, take it like a warrior instead of a coward.”

Viggo’s face twists into a sneer. “Fight you? The cursed tyrant who murders anyone who dares dissent?” He flicks a hand as if dismissing Daenn. “You don’t deserve my efforts, you monster.”

Daenn’s attention is fixed on Viggo, but mine is not. My gaze skims the crowd—so I see the South Peak clansmen who are quietly readying their weapons, edging to surround Daenn.

Viggo is a coward who will let others do his dirty work. That certainly hasn’t changed.

I tug on my magic, gathering it to me. It’s Daenn’s right to deal with Viggo, but these men aren’t a part of that equation. Not if I have anything to say about it.

“It’s my duty and honor as ruling monarch to accept any challenges for my right to rule,” Daenn says. “As you are too afraid to issue that challenge, I will bring it to your feet instead. Take it and retain the shreds of your honor.”

One of Viggo’s men raises a bow—and I strike with my magic like a jungle snake. He slumps back against the wall. Those near him notice, and their eyes widen. I don’t wait for their reactions, though. I sweep my magic through the enemies, enveloping each one by one with the swiftness of Storm in a dive. It’s tiring, especially since I’ve only had one night of rest since using my magic yesterday, but I can’t let that matter .

I make it through half before Viggo notices. He jerks to his feet and roars. “He’s using his curse! Kill him now!”

The men descend on Daenn. He falls into a crouch. Deadly calm echoes over our bond. His body is grace and death; he moves with brutal efficiency, spinning and dodging and striking.

I do what I can, reaching for men who are out of Daenn’s range and dragging them into sleep before they can hurt my husband. I’m tiring further, but I push past it, drinking up the magic that flows around and through me until it grows thin.

And suddenly, silence falls again with the last body that Daenn pushes off his sword.

Viggo hasn’t come any closer. He stands, white-faced, fists clenched, before he gathers himself enough to speak. And he speaks in a near shout. “Is this murderer what you want to rule you?” he asks the room, the crowd of our clan, the faces I grew up with. “He’s killed them all, even the ones who didn’t come near his blade. He is death. He will kill every one of you.”

“False.” My voice rings out, louder than I intended, and draws every eye to me. Viggo’s expression flickers; I’m not sure he even realized I was here until this moment. I straighten my spine and move forward, stepping over the fallen bodies that litter the ground around Daenn. “He won against the men who approached him, but I handled the rest. You were worried about his magic—but you should have been worried about mine. And now you have no one else to hide behind.”

My words cause murmurs amongst the people, which comes as no surprise to me. Wielding magic isn’t our way.

But I don’t care. I’m protecting Daenn.

Viggo’s expression twists in outrage. “You? You couldn’t even bear your first husband an heir.” I hold back a flinch as he continues. “If you weren’t already defective as a wife, you’re now tainted by him—you took on his curse when you accepted his vows and his bed, you—”

“Enough.” Daenn’s snarl cuts through Viggo’s tirade. “Being a coward is bad enough; I won’t let you insult my wife. This has gone on too long. Challenging you was a courtesy, but you’ve made it clear you don’t deserve even that. That is my throne. Abandon it or die.”

Viggo splutters, but he has no time to say anything else. Daenn stalks toward him with deadly intent—so Viggo scrambles down, tripping over his own feet. He jumps up, draws his sword, and makes a weak lunge at Daenn.

Daenn bats away the strike and disarms Viggo with an easy twist. He raises his sword to Viggo’s throat. Viggo’s throat bobs, but he doesn’t dare move another muscle.

Daenn glowers down at his cousin. “Someone throw this insect in a cell.”