The Gryphon's Lair

by Kelley Armstrong

  “If he stays, it’d be in the pond,” I say.

  “Oh, he’ll stay,” Alianor says. “He’s in love.” She catches Rhydd’s look. “No, not with Rowan. He likes her, but his true love…” She gestures toward Sunniva as the pegasus lands nearby and the ceffyl-dwr turns to stare at her.

  Courtois makes a noise that might be a sigh. Rhydd urges him toward us, and the unicorn approaches, head regally high. He gives the ceffyl-dwr a perfunctory sniff. The ceffyl-dwr leans forward and sniffs him back. When he opens his mouth, just a little, I tug on his mane with a sharp, “No.”

  “He’s considering taking a bite out of Courtois,” Alianor says. “Just a nibble. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just curious.”

  “Uh-huh,” Rhydd says. “Well, I’m sure Courtois can take care of himself with…does he have a name?”

  “Doscach,” I say.

  “Don’t ask her what it means,” Dain says as he rides over.

  “Oh, now you know I’m going to have to,” Rhydd says. He asks, and I tell him, and he laughs all the way back to the castle.

  * * *

  We’re holding a council meeting at the pond. I’m pretty sure that’s a first in the history of Tamarel. Everyone wants to see Doscach, though, and everyone wants to hear my story, so I deliver it pond-side, as Doscach swims. At first, no one can take their eyes off him. As my story goes on, though, all eyes turn to me. Twenty pairs of eyes—not just the council, but everyone who could find an excuse for being here.

  “And so,” I finish, “I accomplished my mission. The gryphon is safely with her own kind.”

  “You expect us to believe this”—Heward sputters—“preposterous story?”

  “I can confirm it all,” Alianor says. “As can Dain. Wilmot, Kaylein and Yvain can confirm all except the gryphon aerie, though they did see us with the gryphon at the end, tending to its wounds.”

  “Tending to its wounds?” Branwyne snorts. “She’s the royal monster hunter. She had the chance to wipe out an entire aerie of—”

  “No.” The voice is soft, and I have to scan the crowd to place it. Then it comes again, and I realize it’s Kethan as he says, “No, Branwyne. Rowan is a monster hunter, not a monster killer. Her job is to protect Tamarel, and she accomplished that better by earning the trust of the most dangerous monsters, and learning how we might avoid trouble with them in future.”

  She mutters and shoots her brother a look that says she’ll deal with him later. He only meets that look with a calm, steady one of his own. Kethan might be the quiet sibling, but quiet doesn’t mean weak.

  “She took an extra companion,” Heward says. “That was clearly against the rules.”

  Liliath shakes her head. “You insisted on one companion to reduce the number of guards required and the cost of the expedition. It wasn’t a rule, and this wasn’t a trial.”

  Heward grumbles, but Liliath is right. Alianor is Clan Bellamy. She knows all the loopholes, and she used one.

  Heward is already under investigation for the death of Tiera’s mother, and while Berinon hasn’t been able to prove anything, Heward is being careful, and he backs down easily here.

  Mom comes forward to rest a hand on my shoulder. “Rowan achieved her goal and much more. In fact, I am going to suggest a special festival day, where our people may celebrate her accomplishments with us and hear her story firsthand.” She looks at the council. “What say you?”

  “I say that sounds like a splendid idea,” Liliath says. The others, except for Heward, agree.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  It’s festival night. Mom wanted to have it while Yvain was here, so there wasn’t time to pull together one of our huge festivals and give people time to travel. We hold it three days after my return. Yvain and Mom and I have been in conference all day, discussing the dropbears and other monsters that seem to be moving east from the mountains. This will be my next task: returning to the Dunnian Woods with Yvain and Wilmot to investigate. Another chance to prepare for my trials, too, and while Mom may not be thrilled with it, she understands that this is my life now.

  The festival started at dusk, but it’s fully dark by the time I’m ready. This is a festival in my honor, and I cannot hide behind a mask tonight.

  Alianor and I prepare together, with a host of maids making us both feel like princesses. Once free, we abandon all pretense of young ladyhood to scamper through the halls and run out the side door, where I can observe the festival before my grand entrance.

  We tuck ourselves into a shadowy spot near the door. Malric pads in a semicircle, eyeing the crowd. Jacko walks behind him, antlers high as he patrols. When a little girl races past without noticing us, their gazes track her as if she could be hiding an assassin’s blade in her whirly-toy. Then, satisfied I am safe in this spot, they settle in, Jacko at my feet, Malric off to the side. Chikako peeps from the doorway and bobs out, giving Malric a wide berth before nestling under my long skirts.

  I gaze out at a courtyard aflame with torches and bonfires. Tents sell fiery streamers and phosphorus trinkets and fireworks that light up the night sky. Laughter and song fill the air. The scent of honey cakes and sweet apples makes my stomach growl, and Alianor chuckles.

  “Would you like me to grab you a treat before your speech?” she asks.

  “I’m not sure I could eat before my speech,” I say. “But I’ll stuff myself after.”

  She grins. “We’ll eat until our seams pop.” She looks out toward the festival. “Rhydd seems to be heading over here. I might slip off for a dance, then, if that’s all right.”

  I say it’s quite fine. As she leaves to join the dancers, I notice Rhydd watching her go. I wave, and he’s making his way over when someone waylays him.

  “That is some dress,” says a voice to my left. I turn to see Dain approaching. “It’s very…bright.”

  I spin, and my dress flashes. It’s red and orange and yellow, patterned after a firebird, with the skirt falling in panels, each inlaid with a fiery tail-feather eye. The top is wispy lacework entwined with dyed feathers.

  “Very original,” he says. “I’ve never seen anyone dressed as a basan before.”

  I huff and shove at his shoulder. Then I look at his outfit: gray leggings and a tunic, a dagger at his side and a bow on his back.

  “And you’re dressed like…a hunter,” I say. “Must have taken a lot of time to put that one together.”

  His brows rise. “Did you miss this?” He points at the ceremonial sash around his waist. It’s black-and-white, and I’m about to say he could have at least worn something colorful when I see the emblem on the end.

  “A royal hunter sash,” I say. “Wow. That’s a really old one.”

  “It was Wilmot’s,” he says. “That’s what makes it a costume. Because I’m not a royal hunter. I’m just…trying it on for size.”

  “Good.” I look him in the eye. “That’s your choice. No one stays with me unless they want to.” I glance at Malric. “Except maybe him.”

  Dain’s lips quirk. “He’s had plenty of opportunity to wander off. He could have even had a nice alpha warg girlfriend if he wanted. He doesn’t. We’re all here by choice, princess.”

  He reaches into his pocket. “I, uh, brought you a festival gift, though, you’ll, uh…just want to put it aside for now. It doesn’t quite match your theme.”

  He drops a pendant into my hand, the chain dangling. I shift to catch bonfire light and look down to see…

  “Oh!” My voice catches and my eyes fill, and he snatches it back, cursing under his breath.

  “I’m sorry, Rowan. This isn’t the time and—”

  I take it from him before he can pocket it again. It’s a gryphon’s eye. Tiera’s eye—amber the exact shade of hers, cut into a ring with a black stone set in the middle. It rests on a circle woven with strands of gryphon feather.

 
I run my finger over a feathery edge.

  “Those are hers,” he says. “I collected a few.”

  Tears fall, and I sniff them back, reaching up to rub a hand over my face before Dain catches my wrist.

  “You’ll ruin your makeup,” he says and takes a handkerchief from his pocket to dab under my eyes, careful not to smear the face paint that completes my costume.

  “I should have waited,” he says.

  “I’m glad you didn’t.” I turn around and lift my hair. “Will you put it on me?”

  He hesitates. “It doesn’t quite match—”

  “Tonight is about her. I’d like to wear it.”

  He fastens the necklace, and I lay the amulet on my bodice. The amber winks in the firelight, and for a moment, it seems as alive as Tiera’s bright eyes. Tears threaten again, but I smile, too, at the memory of her.

  I clasp the amulet in my hand and take a deep breath, so the tears are gone when I turn to face Dain.

  “Oh!” I say. “I have something for you, too.”

  I lift my skirt, and his gaze shoots upward so fast I swear his vertebrae crackle.

  I laugh. “I’m wearing so many layers you won’t even see my knees, Dain. All these layers, though, are excellent for hiding things. I always ask my seamstress to sew in pockets. I have a dagger, dried beef for Jacko, my firebird feather pen…and this.”

  Only when I lift the item—and drop my skirt—does he look at me. I hold up a knife with a small blade that springs out of its sheath.

  On seeing it, Dain’s eyes widen and his mouth rounds in an O. He puts out a tentative hand. “Is that…?”

  I touch the two buttons at once and the blade shoots out, and he smiles, a wide and genuine smile, his gaze fixed on the knife.

  “I asked Berinon to make one for me and Alianor, too,” I say. “On our trip, I realized the necessity of weapons we can always have on us, even if ceffyl-dwrs destroy our raft.”

  “I’m hoping that will never happen again, but yes, we can always use backup weapons. Thank you.”

  “I had yours done first because it has a little something extra.”

  I lift the blade to show etching on the handle. He squints at the etching and takes it to hold in the firelight.

  Then he laughs. “A jackalope?”

  “Not just any jackalope,” I say, waving at Jacko.

  “Uh, thanks…?”

  “It’s to commemorate your saving his life.”

  “And to remind me that if I want monsters to be kind to me, I need to be kind to them?”

  “I’d never say that.”

  He smiles. “I know, but I need the reminder anyway. The knife is beautiful. Thank you.”

  I’m showing him how to close it when Rhydd comes over.

  “Sorry,” he murmurs. “I can’t seem to walk five steps without someone wanting to speak to me.”

  “Get used to it,” I say.

  “I know.” He sighs, but there’s satisfaction in his face, too—the pleasure that comes with knowing people already see him as more than a boy prince.

  As we talk, Dain’s gaze slides over Rhydd’s outfit. It’s as elaborate as mine, but not nearly as colorful. After a moment, he says, “Oh. You’re a firebird, too. In black-and-white, the royal colors.”

  “Rowan wanted us both to be firebirds, but it’s her night, so I chose something a little more…subdued.”

  Instead of a skirt, his costume has a long tunic of feather-like panels. It reminds me of my firebird sketches. Not as bright as my costume, but regal and striking and perfect for him.

  Rhydd opens his mouth. A trumpet sounds, cutting him off, and he nods to me. “That’s our cue.”

  Dain murmurs, “I’ll go stand—”

  “Uh-uh,” Rhydd says. “You’re on the parapet with us. Alianor, too, if we can tear her away from the dance.”

  “Already torn.” Alianor jogs to us, skirts in hand, breathing hard from dancing. “I wouldn’t miss this part.” She puts her arm through Dain’s as I take Rhydd’s, and we proceed to the stairs to the parapet.

  * * *

  So many people. I’ve been up here for bigger festivals, with bigger crowds, but I expected tonight’s to be small. Instead, I’m gazing over a sea of upturned, firelit faces.

  I’m still staring when Jacko begins to climb my dress.

  “Uh-uh,” Rhydd says. “No head-sitting. Rowan needs to look a little more dignified tonight.”

  He places Jacko on the wall, and I set Chikako beside him, and the crowd cheers its approval. My cheeks heat. I’ve never had a problem with being in public before, but this feels different. It feels as if every eye is on me, and I’m grateful for the face paint that keeps everyone from seeing me blush.

  Mom steps onto the dais and makes a short speech. Then she turns to me, and her voice seems to ring across the crowd. “And now I’ll stop talking and give you what you came for. Your royal monster hunter. Princess Rowan of Clan Dacre.”

  Rhydd squeezes my hand. I take one step, Malric rising beside me. Then the crowd lets out a gasp, and pleasure surges through me, the certainty that they’ve just noticed my magnificent gown. Instead, gazes are turned upward, following a streak of white.

  “Sunniva?” I sigh. “Just had to steal my thunder, didn’t you?”

  Rhydd chuckles as she lands, light as a cloud, on the edge of a tower. “She’s not stealing. She’s enhancing.”

  “Tell me Doscach is secured. Please.”

  “Very secured. He will devour no small children—or cranky hunters—tonight.”

  Another deep breath, and then I proceed to the dais with Malric at my side. The crowd cheers, and then oohs and ahhs as torchlight illuminates my costume.

  Mom beams at me before stepping aside. I move up to the low wall semicircling the parapet. Jacko hops along it until he’s near me, looking out at the crowd.

  “We can do this, right?” I whisper.

  He chitters, and I smile. I take one more step forward. The crowd has gone silent.

  I clear my throat. “Good evening,” I call, my voice as strong and steady as I can manage. “Welcome to our festival.”

  A cheer, and I smile and wait for it to die down.

  “Normally,” I say, “I’d give you a report on my recent activities, but tonight is a little different, so I’m going to do something a little different. I’m going to tell you a story.”

  Another cheer, and some of the tension eases from my shoulders.

  “I also want to introduce you to my companions, human and monster,” I say. “I’ll do that after my tale, so you’ll hear their parts in it first.” I flash a smile over my shoulder at Alianor and Dain. “I might be the royal monster hunter, but I don’t do this alone.”

  I face the crowd. “And now, my story. Except it’s not exactly mine. It’s the tale of another companion, one who was very special to me.” My hand closes around the amulet. “Her name was Tiera…”