The Golden Gryphon and the Bear Prince: An Epic Fantasy Romance (Heirs of Magic Book 1)

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “It meant something,” Astar promised, earnest and undeterred by the implicit threat in Rhy’s posture. Of course, Astar was the definition of earnest, and Rhy would never hurt him. They had gone around more than a few times over the years, however. Zeph found she wasn’t inclined to intervene in this case. If she and Rhy weren’t useful, then they could’ve been dancing or moongazing—not breaking their brains on mossback maps.

  As if he sensed her irritation, Astar gave her a tired smile. “I apologize, to both of you. Things are happening quickly in there. But remember: no effort is truly wasted.”

  “What is that—mossback wisdom?” Zeph asked. “It makes no sense to me.”

  “For example,” Astar replied, the soul of patience, “you both know a lot more about the landscape now.”

  Zeph snorted, flipping a disdainful hand at the maps. “This isn’t landscape. It looks nothing like landscape, and I know nothing more now than I did an hour ago. It’s mossback lines and pictures. If I want to know a landscape, I’ll fly over it.”

  Astar returned her gaze steadily. “Not all of us can fly, Zeph. Those less fortunate have to make do with lines and pictures.”

  She looked away, chagrined, but refusing to let him see it. Astar could fly if he wanted to badly enough. He just wanted to be a “normal” mossback more. “Then I’ll fly for you and tell you what things look like. Any of us will. We’re happy to—you know that.”

  “I know.” He offered her a gentle smile. “And I know we’re all feeling stressed. It’s not the night we hoped it would be.”

  Aha! An opening. Not exactly an engraved invitation, but an indication that Astar also regretted what hadn’t happened between them that night. Yet. There was still time. She nudged Rhy’s foot under the table, and he flicked a glance at her. With a knowing smirk, he stood. “I’ll go find Gen,” he said, “and tell Jak and the sorceresses where to find us. Eventually.”

  “You don’t need to—” Astar began, but Rhy, Moranu bless him, was already out the door, even remembering to close it behind him.

  “You look tired,” Zeph said, which she didn’t even have to make up because he did.

  “True.” Astar rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. “This is late for me. And being quizzed by Her Majesty—and Queen Dafne, both—can be draining.”

  “Let me do that for you,” Zeph purred, going behind him and threading her fingers through his shoulder-length golden hair. So pretty, like sunshine, and soft as seawater. She loved his hair, fancying it felt as warm to the touch as rays of light. Combing through it lightly, she rubbed her fingertips over his scalp, rubbing and soothing. When he tensed, she hummed softly, “Just a massage.”

  With a soft sound of pleasure, Astar dropped his head, giving her access to the tight cords at the base of his neck. He had more muscles there now, his neck thicker, his shoulders sculpted beneath the blue velvet, from all that broadsword work. She’d like to watch him train sometime. That would be a sight to see. Maybe he’d be shirtless and sweating—she hadn’t seen Astar bare-chested for years and years. She could be a morning songbird and he’d never know.

  Working the tense muscles and ligaments, she savored the way Astar relaxed under her touch, the occasional involuntary groan of pleasure evocative of how he might sound during sex. She loved that she was the one to coax those seductive sounds out of him. If he’d let her, she could massage him all over, turn those groans into pants, then reduce him to incoherence. He needed the release, he was so tightly wound. She could give him that. She wanted to give him that, if he’d only give in.

  Gentling her touch, she caressed his hot skin, so sweet and smooth. Bending down, she inhaled his masculine scent, like a summer day, with a hint of forest beneath that came from his bear First Form. Moranu, how she wanted him. She brushed her lips against his temple, drawing in that scent.

  He tensed. “Zephyr…”

  “Astar…” she replied throatily, brushing another kiss along his cheek.

  “I can’t do this,” he said in a strangled voice.

  “We can,” she murmured. “It’s still the longest night. There’s nothing more for us to do until we leave tomorrow. We can go to your rooms and—”

  Shrugging her off, he burst up from the chair and backed away, holding up his hands as if fending off attack. “No, we cannot.”

  “Why not?” She glided closer, reaching out to trail a finger down the lush velvet covering his powerful chest. The powder blue somehow only emphasized his masculine lines. He didn’t stop her, his hands out to the sides, fingers twitching as if he didn’t know what to do with them, his breathing uneven.

  “Zephyr,” he said again, even more raggedly, his gaze hot and drifting to her mouth, then lower, before he resolutely wrenched it up again. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

  Her heart took a little tumble. Astar had never said anything like that to her before. Others teased her about knowing she was pretty, but hearing it from Astar—the only person whose opinion truly mattered—meant everything. She smiled at him. “Thank you. I think you’re beautiful, too.”

  He didn’t smile back, instead releasing a breath of exasperation. “You’re so Tala to say that.”

  She laid both palms firmly on his chest, sliding close enough to revel in his body heat. “You are Tala, too, my bear. Don’t let the walls and rules make you forget.”

  He shook his head slightly, finally—thankfully—settling his hands on her hips, though carefully chaste in their position. His fingers flexed, though, telling her without words how much he longed to touch her more. “I’m not really Tala. Not like you are. I belong to the world of the Thirteen much more than to Annfwn. You know that.”

  She slid her hands behind his neck, pressing against him and nuzzling his strong throat. He swallowed hard, and she just had to kiss that enticing laryngeal prominence, her tongue darting out to taste his skin. Making an incoherent sound deep in his chest, his hands spasmed on her hips. “Zephyr,” he said, voice hoarse with the desire that vibrated through him. “We can’t do this.”

  “But we can,” she said again. Maybe if she said it enough, the truth would sink in. She pressed her lips to the sweet hollow at the base of his throat, savoring his rumbling response, then tipped her head back, stroking the nape of his neck with caresses both soothing and seductive. “It’s not against any rules for you to have one thing that’s just for yourself, to help you cope with the burden of leadership. I’d like to be that for you. Kiss me.”

  His simmering blue gaze focused on her mouth, and he lowered his head, as if pulled by a riptide he’d ceased fighting. “Zephyr, you have no idea how much I want to.”

  “I do,” she murmured. “I do know, because I want it, too. Just as much, maybe even more.” She parted her lips, tasting his warm breath, anticipating the sparkling moment of connection.

  “No,” he said, reaching up to grip her wrists and setting her away from him. He held on tightly, like he couldn’t bear to let her go, despite his words.

  “Why not?” she demanded, frustrated enough to want to scream. So close… “I want you and you want me. That’s a natural and beautiful thing. We’re adults, free to do as we please.”

  He gazed at her, almost pleadingly. “I’m not. It’s not. I mean—” He took a breath, dropping her wrists as if she’d burned him. “I can’t. I don’t.”

  Bereft of his nearness, feeling the chill of the sudden separation, Zeph put her hands on her hips, glaring at him in confused frustration. “Don’t what? I defy you to say that you don’t want me.”

  “I—” He reached out as if to touch her again, then flattened his hands on the table, staring hard at the polished surface. “I can’t want you.”

  Relief fluttered through her. He did want her—she hadn’t been wrong—so this was about his stupid rules. “‘Don’t’ and ‘can’t’ are not the same thing.”

  “Maybe not,” he said to the table, then straightened and faced her—though he focused his gaze carefully beyond her.
“The result, however, is the same. You are free to do as you please—and I sometimes envy that—but I am not. I know you understand this.”

  “No.” She wanted to stomp her foot in exasperation, the fierce impatience of her First Form fulminating in her heart. The gríobhth was not a patient creature. “I do not understand your silly and limiting mossback rules. You are free, Astar. You are not married, you’re not engaged or even promised to be engaged. I don’t understand why those things are important to mossbacks, or why there are so many levels of them. They’re like rules to a game no one wants to play. Right now—tonight—and in the next few weeks of our journey, you are free to be with me, and you may not be in the future.”

  He focused on her, a thousand thoughts passing behind his summer-sky eyes—and a dread feeling warned her those thoughts weren’t about the joys of sharing their bodies while they could. In fact, the longer he stayed silent, the more she worried she’d said exactly the wrong thing.

  Finally, Astar shook his head, bearlike, which meant he was upset enough for his own First Form to be close to the surface. “I will be someday,” he said, like it was an apology. “I will be promised, engaged, and married—to someone who will bring a needed alliance to the Thirteen. Those are important political interactions, not a game.”

  “Someday,” she scoffed. “Someday is what parents tell children to stop their nagging. Someday means nothing.”

  “Not in this case,” he replied firmly. “But all right, I’ll correct myself. It will be soon. I’ve seen the list.”

  “A list?” Her heart thudded, claws wanting to extend. “Show me this list.” She hissed that last word. Mossbacks with their maps and lines and lists. There would be names on it. Names of prim princesses deemed suitable for Crown Prince Astar. Women who could never understand her bear like she did.

  Astar cocked his head, a smile tugging at his mouth—rueful, but also with a sparkle of admiration that warmed her. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. We can’t have you going about murdering my potential brides.”

  “Hmph. I wouldn’t do that.” Just terrorize them a little.

  His smile widened. “Just the same, I think we’ll play it safe and keep the list as it is: secret.”

  She would see about that. There were ways to uncover secrets. Still, Astar had diverted her from the immediate moment. “All of this talk is the future, not now, not tonight. The present is all that matters, not some future that may never arrive.”

  “We’re making plans to avert disasters that haven’t yet happened,” he reasoned. “The future clearly does matter. You’ve agreed to go on this quest, so you must acknowledge that truth.”

  She stabbed a finger at him. “Don’t play mossback logic games with me.”

  He sighed, then took her hand and folded it between his, deliciously big, warm, and callused from sword work. “Zephyr.” Astar searched her face. “We have been friends as long as I can remember. You are precious to me. I—” He stopped himself, firming his chin and pressing his lips together. “I care about you as a friend, the same as I love Gen and Lena.”

  “You don’t want Gen or Lena like you want me.” She’d meant it as a statement, but it came out like a question, Moranu take her.

  “Nevertheless, friends is all we can ever be. I refuse to lead you on, to let you believe it can ever be more.”

  “I can handle myself,” she replied. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “But I do,” he argued, squeezing her hand between his. “Because I do care about you. Zephyr, it would kill me if I broke your heart.”

  She laughed, because her heart already felt a little broken. “I promise: my heart is my responsibility and will be just fine. It’s very strong. Besides, I’m talking about sex, not love.”

  Sorrow deepened his eyes, like a cloud passing over the sun. “But what about my heart?”

  Her mouth went dry. “What about it?” she whispered.

  Still holding her hand with one of his, he reached up with the other to tuck a long lock of hair behind her ear. “I think you don’t realize how beautiful you are. How magical and passionate. So vivid and alive. Sometimes I wish that—well, I wish I could give you my heart, promise you forever, but I can’t. And because I can’t, I won’t.”

  “I never asked for forever,” she argued, but her voice came out like a plea.

  “No, I know that.” He shook his head again ruefully. “And maybe that’s part of the problem for me. I’m just… not like you. I can’t separate sex and love.”

  Of all the… “That’s just silly,” she burst out, tugging her hand free. As much as she wanted to touch him, she couldn’t stand still for this. “When they marry you off to some princess on this list,” she hissed, hating the word more than ever. “When you offer yourself up on this altar of mossback adherence to duty, you’ll be expected to have sex with her. You’ll have to pop out a new heir, so your poor child can have a miserable life, too. Do you plan to love this wife?”

  “Yes,” Astar replied gravely. “I will do my best to love her and honor that love with my fidelity—emotional and physical.” He dug into his breast pocket, extracting the folded promise she’d put there earlier. Her Feast of Moranu gift to him, a promise she’d written down only hours before in the fullness of hope and anticipation. He held it out to her, in the same folds she’d put there. He hadn’t read it. “Because of that, I can’t keep this. It would be doing a dishonor to my future wife.”

  She stared at him, completely aghast, taking the note with numb fingers. “I don’t understand you at all.”

  He winced, scrubbing his hands over his scalp, looking weary and tense again. All of her good work, undone by a stupid argument. “I know you don’t understand my reasons. That’s part of the problem, too.”

  Unexpected anguish rose up in her chest, squeezing her heart as if Astar had taken it in his fist. “All I ever wanted was to pleasure you,” she managed to say through the pain. “To give you happiness when you’re so clearly unhappy. I just wanted to be with you for as long as you could be mine.”

  He nodded, face a rictus of misery as he stared at his toes. “I know. I wish I… I sometimes wish I could be the kind of man who’d let you.”

  “You could be, if you wanted to.”

  Blowing out a heavy breath, he met her gaze. “That’s the thing, lovely Zephyr. I don’t want to. You asked me to deny that I want you. I can’t do that, because I do want you.”

  Hope inflated her crushed heart. “I want you, too! Let’s—”

  “No, you don’t get it.” He leveled a cold and determined gaze on her. “I don’t want you enough. Not enough to compromise my principles. That will never change.”

  ~ 7 ~

  For an endless, throbbing moment, Astar thought Zephyr might collapse. She looked so stricken, like an arrow had mortally pierced her, knocked her low in a way he’d never seen. And he’d been the one to deal the painful blow. He wanted nothing more than to take it back, to pull her close and kiss her shining hair—but he’d let this go on too long already. That’s why it hurt so much now. If he’d been less of a coward, he’d have told her this long ago instead of avoiding being alone with her. He could’ve saved them both this pain.

  She pulled herself together, visibly rebuilding her poise, swallowing back the tears that made her sapphire eyes look even brighter than jewels. Licking her lushly crimson lips, she parted them, mesmerizing him as always. “Astar, I—”

  The door swung open, startling them both enough that they jumped apart, even though they hadn’t even been touching. Jak strode in, rolled charts tucked under his arm. He looked back and forth between them. “Ah… I can leave.”

  “Please stay,” Astar said, seizing the excuse to be saved from this gut-wrenching conversation like the coward he was. Zephyr gave him a long glittering look, condemning him for his spinelessness, and rightfully so.

  “If you say so,” Jak replied doubtfully.

  “Absolutely. There’s a great
deal of planning to do. I see you were able to obtain charts?”

  “Yep.” Jak tossed them onto the table. “For the entire strait—as much as we’ve mapped anyway. Apparently there are parts of the Kooncelund coast and entire islands in the Isles of Remus that are uncharted. But I’ve got everything there is from the southern coast of Ehas all the way up.”

  “Revised instructions indicate we won’t hit the strait south of the Grace River estuary,” Astar said, keeping one eye on Zephyr, who slunk to a seat and pretended to look at a map. She put on a decent appearance of it, and would fool anyone who didn’t know how much she loathed the things. He hated that he’d wounded her—especially when everything he’d said had been to prevent future hurt. Now is all that matters, not some future that may never arrive.

  “Good to know,” Jak was saying, sorting through his charts and setting some aside. “Fewer charts to drag around.”

  Astar sighed in relief, glad that at least Jak wouldn’t be annoyed about the wasted effort like Rhy had been. As if summoned by the thought, Rhy strolled in, looking like a cat in the cream with Lena on his arm—though Lena looked less happy—and Gen and Stella following behind. “Excellent,” Astar said with cheer he hoped didn’t sound too forced. “Everyone is here. I have updates.”

  Rhy held out a chair for Lena, who gave him a suspicious glance, but sat, while Gen went to sit by Zephyr, the two exchanging quiet words he didn’t try to overhear. Stella came to his side and slipped her narrow hand into his, so familiar and so unlike Zephyr’s burning touch. His twin looked up at him, storm-gray gaze discerning, a sweet wash of soothing comfort radiating from her.

  “I’m all right,” he told her subvocally.

  “You’re not, but I understand,” she replied the same way, and took the chair beside him.