The Gryphon's Lair

by Kelley Armstrong

“A very young gryphon,” I say. “I assisted in her birth. Her mother was the gryphon that killed my aunt and we”—I motion at my companions, both human and beast—“captured her, but since she was pregnant, I asked to allow her to give birth, so we could observe and learn. Unfortunately, she died in the process, and a baby gryphon,” I say, looking at Tiera, “grows much faster than we expected. We’re returning her to the mountains.”

  The women are all staring at me.

  “Not alone,” I say quickly. “We have companions. Adult human companions.”

  Yvain chuckles. “That is hardly the source of our astonishment, princess. I think it begins with ‘we captured a gryphon’ and continues clear through the rest. But as for your grown companions…”

  She casts a questioning eye at the forest.

  “We need to find them,” I say.

  “Or,” calls a voice, “they can just follow that blasted gryphon and find you.” Wilmot walks out, followed by Kaylein. “I released her to track you down, without realizing exactly how fast she can fly when she’s looking for her momma.”

  He stops, his gaze on Alianor. “How…?” He shakes his head. “I don’t even need to ask, do I? Staying behind and studying.” He snorts. “It’s a wonder anyone believed that.”

  He continues forward, his hand extended. “Hello, Yvain. How long has it been?”

  She clasps his hand in hers. “Too long. So you’re the ‘adult human companion’ who lost these three?”

  “I am, and thank you for finding them.”

  “Oh, we didn’t find them. We kidnapped them, which I’m certain counts as a very serious offense when a princess is involved.”

  Wilmot lifts his brows.

  Yvain shakes her head. “It’s a long story, one I haven’t fully pieced together yet. We can do that over breakfast.” She turns to the other women. “Girls? Let’s see what we can offer our royal guest.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  It takes a while to sort everything out. As Yvain had said, she’s Clan Hadleigh, and my great-great-aunt. The “girls” are all her relatives, too—one daughter, two granddaughters, and the youngest a great-granddaughter. They’re an expedition team from a village located in a cleared region between the mountains and the Dunnian Woods.

  I’d heard of the village from my father. It wasn’t where he grew up—this is a different branch of his clan—but it’s the most remote settlement in Tamarel, home to the last remaining mountain river guides. After the great river dried up, Yvain’s people learned to ferry traders along a smaller network of rivers. Right now, she’s leading an expedition to investigate the dropbear migration.

  Last night, when the dropbears attacked us, Yvain and her troop had been hunting for that same pack, who’d slipped away in the trees a few days earlier. Instead, they came across us and recognized Alianor. They’d had a run-in with Clan Bellamy only days earlier, so they presumed we were spies. As for Malric, Yvain really hadn’t noticed him. With his black coat, he’d disappeared in the night’s shadows, and she’d presumed her first dart had gone astray.

  Once Yvain finishes her story, she invites me to tell mine. I do, with relish. This is one thing I’ve discovered about being a monster hunter: No matter how terrifying an encounter is at the time, it will make an amazing story later. Also, Mom always said I had a knack for storytelling. I’m not sure she meant that as a compliment—I learned very young that if I made our misadventures entertaining enough, Dad couldn’t bring himself to punish us. I learned that trick from him. No matter how dangerous—and reckless—his exploits, his retelling of them always made Mom swoon…and forget that he’d been in mortal danger at the time.

  Dad always said that to tell a good story, you must resist the urge to embellish. Once you’re caught doing that, no one will believe you. Instead, you craft and edit the story for maximum impact. You cut the boring parts and emphasize the exciting ones. Don’t gloss over all your mistakes—use them for comic effect. Tell your story with passion and enthusiasm and emotion, dramatizing the tales with your tone and your expressions and your gestures.

  “So now poor Cedany’s hut is filled with dropbears,” says Goscelin, Yvain’s daughter.

  The youngest, Swetyne, grins. “But they left a warning. On both doors.”

  They all laugh, and Yvain promises they will resolve the cabin-filled-with-dropbears problem before Cedany returns.

  “So there really is a healer?” Alianor says. “I would love to meet her. I’m in training to be a healer, though I’m hoping to specialize in monsters.”

  Yvain’s brows rise. “And what does your father think of that?”

  “Whatever will bring his daughter closer to the princess,” Goscelin murmurs. Then she realizes Alianor overheard and says, “My apologies, child. Despite our issues with Everard, he is your father.”

  “Oh, but you’re right,” Alianor says blithely. “He is delighted by my friendship with Rowan. I’ll worm my way into her confidence, earn my place as her trusted companion, win the heart of her brother and become Queen Alianor of Tamarel, working on behalf of Clan Bellamy from the highest position in the land.”

  “Second highest,” I say, suppressing my surprise that she’s figured out her father’s plan. “Rhydd would be king.”

  Her eyes dance. “But a king wants a happy wife, does he not?”

  The women laugh, and Alianor stretches her legs. “My father has his dreams, and I have mine. While he imagines a crown on my head, he’ll leave me be, and I can study and train to become the kingdom’s first doctor of monsters, working alongside my friends and living single and carefree, surrounded by handsome boyfriends.”

  I choke on my tea, and everyone laughs, except Dain, who looks as scandalized as I must.

  “We will introduce you to Cedany if we can,” Yvain says to Alianor. “First, you have a gryphon to return to the wild, and I think we can help with that.”

  * * *

  Yvain and her troop can indeed help us. They know of a gryphon aerie not far into the mountains, along a nearby river. They traversed that river themselves to track the dropbears, and their raft is only a half-day’s walk away.

  After we eat, Wilmot heads out with Yvain’s daughter and granddaughters to investigate Dropbear Cabin. I want to join them, but Wilmot insists we stay with Yvain and Swetyne.

  “I’ll already get a tongue-lashing from Berinon when he learns I let you wander off in the night,” Wilmot says. “If he finds out I intentionally brought you back to a dropbear pack? That would earn me an actual lashing.”

  Not true, but I understand his meaning. After they’re gone, Alianor and Swetyne talk healing while Yvain wants a closer look at Tiera, Jacko and Malric. I jump on the opportunity, and in Yvain, I find an enthusiastic audience. Soon we’re chattering away over the beasts as I point out one feature after another. Dain sits close by, whittling an arrowhead as he listens, sometimes pausing to ask questions.

  It is, of course, Tiera that we spend the most time poring over. My time with her is slipping past, and I want to use it wisely, as both scientist and companion, studying her and playing with her and enjoying our time together, while desperately trying to forget how short it will be.

  “It’s truly remarkable,” Yvain says. “A warg, a jackalope, a baby gryphon…”

  “Malric was Jannah’s,” I say. “I only inherited him.”

  “She also has a chickcharney,” Dain says. “And a pegasus filly. She didn’t inherit either of those. Monsters follow her home.”

  “You have a gift,” Yvain says, stroking Tiera’s feathers.

  Dain shrugs. “She’s kind to them, and she respects them.”

  I tense, waiting for the insult that will surely follow. Dain only returns to whittling, while Jacko snuffles the falling sawdust.

  “I didn’t mean to imply it’s all her Clan Dacre blood,” Yvain says. “She uses it we
ll, and obviously she has an affinity for beasts. Have you spoken to your kin about that, child?”

  “About what?”

  She waves between the three beasts. “This is not normal, even for a royal monster hunter. Surely your mother realizes that.”

  I shrug. “I like monsters.”

  “As they like you. As Dain says, you’re kind and respectful, and that’s why they stay with you. But the bigger question is why they come to you at all.”

  I frown at her.

  She chuckles. “Does this seem normal to you, child? That you just happen to stumble upon gryphons and pegasus fillies and baby jackalopes?”

  “And wyverns and jba-fofis and dropbears…” Dain murmurs.

  “The wyverns were hunting the chickcharney, which we were also hunting. We did stumble on the jba-fofi lair. The dropbears…? I guess we accidentally crossed their path.”

  “I’m sure there are explanations for some,” Yvain says. “But you should consider the possibility that you attract monsters.”

  My heart thuds. “Are you saying it’s my fault the dropbears are heading toward Tamarel?”

  She laughs and clasps my shoulder. “No, child. That would indeed be magical. Something else is driving the dropbears east, but I believe it’s no coincidence that their path intersected with yours.”

  “She’s a monster magnet,” Dain says.

  “She is indeed. If you’re going to be her companion, you’d best be prepared for beastly encounters.”

  She says it lightly, but I tense. Dain obviously isn’t sure he wants to be my companion, and he really doesn’t need any excuses to decide against it. But he only shrugs, his gaze still on his work.

  “It’s not dull, that’s for sure,” he says.

  “Good,” Yvain says. “There are people who want nothing more than an easy and comfortable life, and I do not begrudge them that. But I’m not hunting dropbears at my age because I need to. As for you, Rowan, your mother will soon notice exactly how often you encounter monsters. She’s just preoccupied, with your aunt’s death and the change of heir. You should bring it to her attention.”

  When I don’t answer, she says, “You need to tell her, child. You can’t be the first member of Clan Dacre to have so strong a gift. You’ll find help in your histories. Help that you’ll need so you may learn to manage it and use it to your advantage.”

  “Is it an advantage?” I say. “I’m supposed to be scaring the monsters off, not attracting them. That sounds more like a curse.”

  “Yes,” Yvain says, nodding at Jacko, now snuggled with Tiera, who has her head on my lap as she dozes. “It looks like a curse to me.”

  I make a face.

  Before I can speak, she says, “I understand your concern, but a curse is only a misused gift. There are plenty of advantages to having monsters drawn to a royal monster hunter.”

  “So they aren’t drawn to the rest of us,” Dain says, still working on his arrow. “Well, unless you’re beside her at the time. I might need to start wearing stronger armor.”

  “You jest, Dain, but it’s true,” Yvain says. “They’ll come to her, and that will help her study them and learn their habits. Speak to your mother, child. She will help.”

  “Maybe you can tell her yourself,” I say. “She should be told about the dropbears, too. Clan Hadleigh is coming soon for a meeting.”

  Yvain’s eyes crinkle. “Is that an official invitation to the castle?”

  “It is.”

  “Then I accept. I’d planned to make my way there to warn Jannah about the dropbears. We’ll help you get this young gryphon to a more suitable home. Then we’ll come to the castle with you and discuss this all with your queen mother.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “I could get used to this,” Alianor says, lying on her back as our raft floats along the gentle river.

  We’re going upstream, which means we need to all take turns paddling, but the current is light and the water deep, and it feels like a pleasant midday row. The raft won’t hold ten people and three beasts, so Yvain’s granddaughters remained with their mother, Goscelin, guarding the dropbear cabin. That leaves seven humans and three beasts.

  I’m stretched out with Alianor, my head on Tiera and Jacko on my stomach. Dain’s taking a turn at rowing with Swetyne and Wilmot, while Kaylein sits beside me and Yvain perches atop a barrel seat.

  I should probably be sleeping after my long night, but weirdly, I’m too relaxed to sleep. I’m lying on a raft, bobbing in the current, as I watch the late-summer sky above, the brightest blue with clouds as white as lambs. Around me gentle conversation drifts like the raft itself.

  “Are there only women in your village?” Alianor asks.

  Yvain chuckles. “No. Why do you ask that?”

  “Because you’re all women. Clan Bellamy women accompany expeditions, but there are always men, too.”

  “To protect the women?” Yvain asks dryly.

  Alianor’s quiet for a moment. Then she says, “I’m not sure, actually. Sometimes it’s only men, but mostly it’s both. There are still more men than women in an expedition, though.”

  “In our village, it’s the women who hunt and explore while the men guide the river rafts. They may join us, if they wish, but this promised to be a long trip, and summer is our busiest time for the rafts.”

  “Is there a reason why you do different jobs?” I ask.

  “Because people don’t want women as their river guides.”

  I glance over, thinking she’s joking, but she shrugs. “People feel safer with men guiding the boats. They don’t mind a woman or two on the crew, but when it’s mostly women, they’ll pay double for a male crew.”

  Alianor looks over. “Then I hope you continue offering the female crews so you may charge double for the male ones.”

  Yvain chuckles. “You are indeed Clan Bellamy, child. Always looking for the trick.”

  “That’s no trick. It’s common sense. If they’re foolish enough to pay double for men, they cannot claim you’re overcharging them. It’s their choice.”

  “She actually has a point,” I say.

  Alianor knocks my boot with hers. “Don’t sound so shocked.”

  I look at Yvain. “But it doesn’t seem right if it forces you to divide the jobs that way. People should do what they want. And what they’re good at.”

  “Stop giving your customers a choice.” That’s Dain, his voice drifting over from where he stands with his paddle. We all turn his way, and he shrugs. “Wilmot told me once about a monster hunter who retired to the north, and no one wanted to hire her because their monster hunters had always been men. Those who would hire her offered less money. So she refused. Either they paid her full price or she didn’t clear the monsters. Eventually, they had to give in.”

  “That only works if you’re offering a unique service,” Kaylein says. “We have the same problem where I come from. No one cares who catches the fish, but if they’ve come to go fishing themselves, they want men to take them out. And they want fishing poles and nets made by women, because we’re supposedly better at that. If my family decided that my brothers should make nets and my sister should guide boats, people would just hire others. Even though the royal monster hunter has been a woman for three generations, people still tried to tell me I couldn’t be a palace guard because I wouldn’t be strong enough to lift a proper sword.”

  “What did your parents say?” Alianor asks.

  “Do whatever I wanted,” Kaylein says. “Whatever made me happy. Dad made my swords, after Berinon crafted the first. My mother sparred with me for practice, even though she’s horrible at it.”

  We all laugh, and conversation continues, weaving through topics heavy and light, until the midday sun burns so bright that Malric jumps off the raft…and Jacko leaps up to yodel his alert cry.

  “He�
��s fine,” I say. “He’s just cooling off. In fact, it looks like an excellent idea.”

  I take off my sword and my breeches, letting my long tunic cover my undergarments. Then I jump in…and Jacko whips into a frenzy, racing around, screeching his alert, butting Alianor and Dain for not leaping in to save me.

  “Thank you, princess,” Dain says, as Jacko hangs from his pant leg, growling. “I hope you’re nice and cool now.”

  “I am, thank you,” I answer from the water.

  Kaylein takes his paddle. “Go on and join her. The jackalope will figure it out.” She plucks Jacko from Dain’s pant leg.

  Dain reaches for the paddle. “I’m fine.”

  “He can’t swim,” I call as Alianor dives into the water.

  “I can, too,” he says, turning to face me as I swim lazily upstream.

  “Can’t.”

  His face darkens. “Can.”

  Kaylein gives him a nudge between the shoulder blades, and he rocks on the edge for a heartbeat. He could catch his balance, but instead he lets himself fall into the river.

  When he surfaces, he scowls at Kaylein.

  “See?” she says. “You wanted to. You were just too cranky to admit it.”

  “I’m not cranky.”

  “And the sky is not blue,” I say.

  Dain turns on me, and I dive, slicing through the water and surfacing a few feet away. Jacko perches on the edge of the raft, quiet now that he’s realized we haven’t all accidentally fallen overboard.

  I swim to Malric, who shakes his head, spraying me, and I laugh before I dive under. Alianor and I retrieve rocks and shells from the riverbed, competing for who can find the best and biggest. At first, Dain only swims, but when he does go under, he spots something. He surfaces, lifting a clam the size of my head…and Tiera swoops down to grab it.

  “Hey!” he shouts.

  She flaps her way to the shore, smashes the shell, and gobbles down the meat inside.

  “Good girl!” I call. “Very good girl!”