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

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “Maybe he did it because he loved you,” Zeph mused.

  Lena pinned her with a sharp look. “Why do you say that?”

  Zeph snorted. “We’re talking about Rhy here. Broody and takes everything way too seriously.”

  “Most people complain Rhy doesn’t take things seriously enough,” Lena corrected, but with a curious note in her voice.

  Rolling her eyes at that, Zeph shook her head. “Who—the adults? The heroes of the golden age of the Deyrr War? We grew up with Rhy and we all know how much it gnaws at him, being Moranu’s chosen. He’s lived his whole life in sheer terror of when the goddess will pluck him up and make him do Her bidding like a puppet.”

  “Is that how you think it will work?” Gen asked, fascinated.

  “I don’t think so,” Stella put in.

  Zeph waved that off. “The point is that Rhy thinks that’s how it will be. He loves his mother, but he’s also furious with Queen Andromeda for bargaining him away to Moranu. And she feels so guilty about it that she hasn’t ever slapped him upside the head and told him he’s got nothing on her, with the onus she was born under. So, for Rhy, love is this fraught thing that’s about guilt and anger, on top of him feeling like he’s got no real control over his life. Thus, when Lena—not incidentally the namesake of the sorceress who kicked of all these generations of obligation to fate to begin with—told him she loved him, then of course he charged off to do the first thing he could think of to destroy it.”

  Lena stared at her, lips parted in astonishment. “I never thought of it that way—and I had no idea you have so much insight into people, Zeph.”

  Zeph shrugged, making it extra elaborate. “I’m not just another pretty face.” She wrinkled her nose at Gen, who sighed.

  “I know I shouldn’t worry about it,” Gen admitted. “And if I had to pick between being as gorgeous as Zeph or dragon form, I’d absolutely pick dragon. I’m just tired of feeling invisible. And with the crystalline moon and the ball last night… I just thought—hoped—that I would meet someone special. It was silly, but I had this romantic idea that my true love would suddenly appear and sweep me off my feet.”

  All four of them, even Stella, who usually seemed oblivious to such longings, sighed with sympathetic yearning.

  “I know you all don’t approve of me chasing Astar,” Zeph admitted ruefully. “Moranu knows, everyone disapproves. But I’d had a similar, foolish romantic fantasy—that Astar would finally kiss me under that beautiful moon and it would be… something special.”

  Stella watched her with keen gray eyes. “I don’t disapprove,” she said gravely.

  Gen actually jolted in surprise. “You don’t? But Astar has responsibilities to the throne.”

  “Willy knows the demands of those responsibilities better than anyone,” Stella reasoned. “He doesn’t need us to tell him how to handle them. That’s something he has to figure out on his own.”

  Gen narrowed her eyes. “Do you know something?”

  Stella smiled enigmatically. “That’s all I’m going to say about it. But none of you were foolish to hope. Longing for romance is natural and human.” Her smile widened. “Even for Tala.”

  “So,” Gen said, turning to Lena, “you’re the only one who got the fantasy last night. You’re duty-bound to tell us everything.”

  Lena’s eyes misted and everything about her softened, like a fog rolling in off the ocean. “It was magical. Rhyian and I had it out, and I got caught up in the emotions of it all. The nostalgia, maybe. He went up with me to the battlements and kept me company while I cleared a space in the storm for the moon viewing. And, yes, we kissed under that amazing moon. It was shortsighted of me, but also—in the moment—it was everything.” She heaved a sigh and gave Gen a rueful look. “Being swept off your feet sounds romantic, but it also means you’re ungrounded. I lost sight of some essential truths.”

  Gen took her hand. “But you said he admitted that he was in love with you.”

  “Was,” Lena emphasized, “in the past tense.”

  “I’m not sure that’s changed,” Gen insisted.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Lena patted her hand and pulled hers away, lacing her fingers deliberately together. “Think about it. Even if Zeph’s theory is true—and I think you’re probably right on the nose there—then Rhyian still deliberately broke my heart because he couldn’t handle being in love with me, or with me loving him. He hasn’t changed, not in any way that matters, so he’ll just do it again. He might promise he won’t, but he will. He can’t help himself.”

  None of them had an argument for that.

  Lena raised a bronze brow, vindicated and sorrowful at once. “He can’t help himself,” she repeated, “and I can’t go through that kind of heartbreak again. The only answer is to refuse to engage with him.”

  “Thus Willy’s Moratorium,” Gen said glumly. “And we’ve come full circle. Girls in one carriage. Boys in the other.”

  Zeph grimaced in agreement, looking out the carriage window. Castle Ordnung looked barely any farther away. This trip was going to take forever. Hopefully something interesting would happen soon.

  ~ 11 ~

  This journey seemed to be taking forever and they’d only been on the road for two days. For all that they were going on an epic quest to save the world, Astar had expected things to be a lot more… shiny.

  Splitting up the boys and girls into two carriages had been a terrible idea. He missed Stella’s steadying presence, Lena’s intelligent conversation, Gen’s sweet nature—and Zephyr’s vivid one. Jak was frankly bored and Rhy alternated between broody silence and caustic remarks. Fortunately, they’d soon reach the city of Gieneke, which sat at the crossroads of several major trade routes and at the confluence of the Phoenix and Grace Rivers, the massive juncture where the two became the River Danu, apparently a grand sight.

  It would be their first opportunity to play the part of noble tourists, and that—along with the delights of the bustling city—should at least give everyone a task to focus their energies upon. He knew better than to wish for something to happen—Ursula had impressed that warrior’s superstition on him enough times, that wanting something exciting to happen usually meant people got hurt or killed. Never invite excitement, Ursula’s voice said in his head. It’s never the kind you want.

  Still, everyone was so restless, it would be good if…

  He narrowed his eyes at the fawn-colored peregrine falcon plummeting toward the carriage at top speed. Calling the driver to a halt, Astar jumped out before the vehicle stopped moving. He’d recognize Zephyr’s peregrine form anywhere, even if he hadn’t known she was the one on scout duty. And she always took her time returning, tracing lazy circles in the sky long after Rhy or Gen went ahead to take over scouting, reluctant to return to human form.

  He could understand that. If he had a form capable of flight, he’d probably want to stay in the air as long as possible, too. As it was, while he didn’t relish being in bear form the way Zephyr loved all of her forms, he’d still been tempted more than once on this journey to shift and toss some trees around in the nearby woods.

  Zephyr shifted as she landed, her boots hitting the snow with a puff of impact, golden-furred cloak and glossy black hair falling into place after the rest of her had stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded, forgetting himself and grasping her arms. She looked unhurt—but she was also talented enough to heal herself as she shifted.

  Though she’d been giving him the cold shoulder the last couple of days, Zephyr grasped his forearms, her sapphire eyes wild as she panted, out of breath from her frantic flight. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Instead she shuddered violently.

  “Take it slow,” he said soothingly, pulling her into his arms, settling her with his strength. It was his job to calm her down enough to report, to remind her of her human side, the thinking and speaking aspect. He’d never seen Zephyr this rattled, which was enough to put him on full alert.

&nbs
p; When she relaxed fractionally, he took her by the shoulders and held her gaze. “Focus on me. I’m right here and you’re safe. Just tell me what you saw, beginning to end.”

  She nodded, clinging to him, still breathing too fast. Her eyes held too much of the falcon, her human mind clearly consumed by the animal’s atavistic reaction. Astar slowed his own breathing to calm her. “In and out,” he encouraged. “From the beginning. You were flying…”

  “I was flying…” she echoed, and he breathed a sigh of relief that she’d found her words again. Sometimes shapeshifters who were badly frightened in animal form didn’t shift back to human with their full capacities. He should’ve known Zephyr was far too talented and practiced for that. Still, she’d given him a scare. “I was flying up the River Danu, to the confluence.” Her human sense returned enough for her to look chagrined. “I wanted to see it first.”

  “That’s all right,” he replied with an encouraging smile, aware that the others had gathered around them. He concentrated on Zephyr, on calming her, keeping her focused. “Did you see the confluence?”

  She shook her head, then nodded. “It’s beautiful from the air. Just like Lena told us it would be—the red clay of the Phoenix doesn’t mix with the Grace’s brown for leagues downstream. Two currents, side by side.”

  “Sounds amazing,” he agreed. Someone inhaled with an impatient breath and he subtly shook his head. Zephyr’s eyes were looking more human now as she thought about the mechanics of the dual currents. “Did you make it all the way to the confluence?” he coaxed, when it seemed she’d say nothing more. “Is something happening at Gieneke?”

  “No,” she breathed. “I didn’t see the city. I didn’t go all the way to the confluence, but there’s something wrong. Very wrong. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  A chill of dread weighted his limbs. Gieneke was home to thousands of people and would be hosting hundreds more, trade busy even in winter. This might be the first disaster. Sooner and closer than anyone had predicted.

  “Can you describe the wrongness?” As he asked, Stella slipped up beside him, putting a hand on Zephyr’s arm, unobtrusively adding her healing calm.

  “It was… They were…” She let out a long, trembling breath. “You know I don’t like this word, but I can’t think of another: monsters.”

  “What did they look like?” he asked matter-of-factly. Zephyr, whose gríobhth form seemed monstrous to the ignorant, wasn’t inclined to use that word lightly.

  “Like humans, plants, and animals had been somehow mashed together. Some were alive, but clearly in pain, filling the air with screams like wounded prey. And others were too wrong to ever have lived. And they smelled wrong.” She’d calmed as she got the words out, cognizant now of the others gathered around them. “They didn’t smell edible, you know?”

  Everyone but Jak and Lena nodded, knowing what she meant.

  “Did they smell poisonous?” Gen asked.

  Zephyr frowned in concentration. “Not exactly. But wrong. We have to help them, Astar.” She clutched his arms, fully human gaze pleading with him. “No one should have to…” She broke off, unable to say it, and he tucked her under his arm, holding her against his side. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she buried her face against him. A small, dishonorable piece of himself savored that she could take comfort from him, despite how badly he’d handled things between them.

  “Thoughts?” he asked the rest. “Nilly?”

  Stella shook her head, gaze opaque. “I didn’t see this coming—and Aunt Andi didn’t mention anything like it—but we all know from history and the way the Deyrr high priestess manipulated events that sudden changes can fool those with foresight.”

  “Do you think this could be Deyrr?” Astar asked her. He nearly subvocalized out of reflexive horror, but he figured everyone deserved to know what they were up against.

  “I don’t know.” Stella held up her palms. “I don’t know what Deyrr magic feels like. They’ve been gone from the world for twenty-five years now.”

  “Not entirely,” Zephyr said, recovered enough to straighten and step out from under his sheltering arm—leaving a cold and lonely spot where she’d been. “Deyrr came from Dasnaria, and I’ve been to the former Temple of Deyrr in Jofarstyrr when I was over visiting my mother’s family there.”

  “The temple still exists?” Gen asked in horror.

  “Not as a temple, per se,” Jak put in, nodding at Zeph. “We went for the tour, too, one time when we were visiting Dad’s family. Her Imperial Majesty Empress Inga officially outlawed the worship of the god Deyrr—punishable by immediate execution—and the temple is maintained as a museum. It’s educational to see just how warped that kind of religion can be.”

  Zephyr pulled her fur cloak tighter around her, still looking far too pale. “No one but me noticed the smell—but the scent of Deyrr is all over that place. I’ll never forget it. Whatever is at the confluence, it isn’t Deyrr.”

  “Hmm.” That was a relief on one hand. On the other, it would’ve been helpful to know what they were dealing with. “If it isn’t Deyrr, is it the rift? I thought that hadn’t actually occurred yet.”

  Lena had her head tipped back, apparently studying the gray skies, but likely stretching out with her weather magic. “There is something odd in the energy overlays of the region. It’s kind of like an intense storm, except it’s not in the atmosphere so much, not like real weather would be.” She frowned, putting a finger to her temple. “It’s like it’s a storm but made of magic.”

  “Maybe that’s what it is,” Stella offered. “The histories are full of anecdotes and documented examples of the impacts from the magic barrier moving back in the day. Some from magic bursting over a region that had been bereft of it, some from the movement of the barrier itself. This could be something like that. I can’t guess more than that, though.”

  Lena nodded. “People in Nahanau still talk about the storm that resulted when the barrier expanded over the archipelago. It was a disaster. But why would that happen here and now? The barrier is long gone. Even if the rift is opening early, it’s not the same as before. Magic isn’t suddenly flooding into a previously parched region—which we could compare to a destructive flash flood when it suddenly rains in the desert—this area has been drenched in magic for a quarter century.”

  They all looked at Astar, as if he’d have the answer. “These are good questions,” he said judiciously, “and ones we can only address if we go investigate.”

  Rhy, leaning against one of the carriages, pretending like he wasn’t staring at Lena, raised a black-winged brow at him. “Is that wise? We could be rabbits bouncing into the mouth of the tiger.”

  “Wise or not, it’s what we were tasked to do,” Astar replied patiently. “We cannot fail in our duty to the high throne. And I cannot turn my back on all the people in Gieneke looking to me for help.”

  “Is it what Ursula sent us to do, though?” Gen asked. “No one mentioned battling monsters.”

  “What did you think we’d be doing?” Lena asked with a hint of impatience. “Or did you only listen to the bits about dressing up and visiting other royal courts?”

  Gen made a face at her. “I distinctly recall that no one thought we’d run into trouble before the one at Lake Sullivan—and that’s probably just the tame, good-luck lake creature.”

  “I’m all for battling monsters,” Jak put in cheerfully, idly flipping a throwing dagger. “This quest has been deadly dull so far. I’m not afraid—and it’s about time we had some excitement.”

  Astar groaned internally at the bad luck there. Never invite excitement. It’s never the kind you want. And now look what had happened.

  “I’m not afraid either,” Rhy snapped. “Not wanting to be mashed into a dying half-human monster is exercising a healthy sense of caution. I’m not interested in being honorable—or in being a dead hero.”

  “Of course you aren’t,” Lena remarked sardonically. “You’d have to actually care abo
ut other people.”

  His head whipped around to her in shock. “That is dramatically unfair, Salena. I—”

  “We’re getting off target,” Astar said forcefully. Clearly keeping Rhy and Lena apart for a few days hadn’t done anything to defuse the tension between them. “Stella, do you see anything either way?”

  His twin shook her head. “Nothing useful. My foresight is all over the place—too many possibilities to sort even a few. Aunt Andi could possibly do better.”

  “We could go back to Ordnung,” Gen suggested. “Let the experts decide. There’s no shame in knowing your limitations.”

  “No,” Rhy said with a clenched jaw. “Even I don’t want to run home to mommy and daddy at the first sign of trouble. Her Majestyness assigned this mission to us for a reason.”

  “That’s my man,” Jak crowed, slapping Rhy on the shoulder.

  “Besides,” Stella put in, “I said that Aunt Andi could maybe do better. That’s by no means certain—and she also warned me to expect the unexpected, as this rift has everything jumbled.”

  “I really hate when people say to expect the unexpected,” Gen complained. “What does that even mean?”

  Jak grinned at her. “It means to embrace chaos. I’d think a shapeshifter and child of the trickster goddess would be all over that.”

  “That’s Zeph, not me,” Gen snapped, then narrowed her eyes at Zephyr in concern. Astar felt the same—the naturally ebullient Zephyr had yet to fully rebound from her harrowing experience. That, more than anything, gave Astar pause.

  “What do you say, Zephyr?” he asked, waiting for her to meet his eyes. Hers were a deep and troubled blue, lacking their usual sparkle. “You’re the one who saw. Should we go around or not?”

  “You said it already. We have to help them,” she replied simply. “It’s not even a question. And there’s no time to lose.”

  “All right,” Astar said, giving her a grave nod of thanks. “I’m decided. Here are your assignments.”