Thursdays With the Crown

by Jessica Day George

  When the gold-and-cream griffin saw what Celie was holding, however, it hissed and raised its wings. Immediately the larger griffin came down the aisle. It had something in its beak and tossed it at Celie’s feet before lunging at her, snatching the crystal out of her hands. It backed down the aisle, glaring, and hid the thing in another stall. Belatedly Celie remembered Rufus’s fondness for squirreling away jewelry and other shiny objects. He’d made off with her gold circlet shortly before a state dinner just last week, and he’d shrieked at her when she’d retrieved it from under his bed.

  She held up her hands, fingers splayed, to show that she didn’t have any more of their treasures, then looked down to see what the large griffin had dropped at her feet. It looked like a dead rabbit, and she said a silent prayer that they wouldn’t offer her some raw meat and become offended when she didn’t eat it.

  “Oh,” she said, looking down at the thing. “Rufus.”

  Then her knees buckled and she sat down in the bracken of the nest.

  It was her old stuffed toy lion. Here at her feet. In the Glorious Arkower. She picked him up with a tentative hand. Rufus. Dirty and a bit mashed, but familiar all the same. Her eyes prickled with tears and she pressed Rufus against her face. Underneath the wild smell of griffin, she smelled home, and her throat closed on a small sob.

  When she’d pulled herself together, Celie looked up at the large griffin, who had returned from hiding the crystal and was now giving her a decidedly pleased look. Her tears dried at once.

  “Oh,” Celie said again. “It was you!”

  And it was. It was the griffin that had eaten Prince Khelsh! The Castle had traded it for her stuffed toy, or perhaps Rufus the lion had merely gotten caught up in the spell that had briefly brought this griffin to Sleyne and then sent it back to the Glorious Arkower. Celie held out her hand and when the griffin dipped its head, she stroked its smooth feathers.

  “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

  The large griffin gave a pleased clack.

  She held out Rufus the lion, but the griffin pushed it back at her with its head. She gave her toy a fond hug and thanked the big griffin again before stuffing Rufus down inside her bodice, where he had been when Khelsh had attacked her.

  “I should probably get back to the tower,” she said reluctantly. She pointed toward the door. “Pogue is probably worried sick … or maybe he’s just asleep …”

  She tried to sidle around the two creatures, worried that they would try to stop her, but they turned and flanked her, walking with her out of the stable and across the courtyard. They were almost to the foot of the tower when she heard Lulath’s exuberant shout from the trees.

  “Our Celie! You are being the friend of more marvelous of the griffins!”

  The griffins on either side of Celie stiffened. The larger one — Celie had realized that he was male, and the other female, probably his mate — half raised his wings in a defensive move. Celie had to duck to avoid getting a gold feather in the eye.

  She raised her hands to try to make a shushing gesture at Lulath, so that he wouldn’t further startle the griffins, and then Rufus came romping out of the trees. He took one look at Celie standing between the two full-grown griffins and screeched in pure rage. Celie took a step backward in shock: she had never heard her darling make such a sound before! Rufus raised his wings and charged at the male, never mind that Rufus was nearly half the other griffin’s size.

  The male griffin leaped forward with a cry of challenge, and Celie began to scream. She tried to grab hold of the big griffin, but he left her behind in two bounds, and the female promptly herded her away from the fight. Lulath dropped the bundle he was holding, spilling berries everywhere, and tried to wade into the fray. Even he, tall as he was, was quickly tossed out of the way by the male griffin.

  Lulath ran to Celie instead of trying again. The female griffin hissed at him, but Celie reached out and grabbed his arm, which calmed the griffin down. She turned to watch the fight, and so did Celie and Lulath. Celie felt faint, as though all the blood had drained out of her body, watching her fierce little Rufus do battle with the enormous older male.

  “Oh,” Lulath said. And then, “Oh!” He grabbed Celie’s hand on his arm, squeezing it tightly. “They are making the play fighting!”

  “What?” Celie spared him only a glance, but when she did, she saw a smile spreading across the Grathian prince’s face.

  “Yes, yes! You are knowing that at times my girls, they having the fighting?” Lulath was the proud father of four tiny spoiled dogs. “They are biting and fighting and rolling and growling?”

  Celie nodded, and then said yes, since Lulath didn’t take his eyes off the griffins. The little dogs would suddenly erupt into action, leaping at each other’s throats, snarling and nipping. The first time she’d seen it happen she’d been horrified and tried to pull them apart, earning a bite on the hand in the process, but Lulath had only laughed.

  “Yes,” he said, as he’d told her back then, “they are only deciding who will be queen for the day, and taking some of their energy and putting it to work.” He nodded. “That is what these griffins are doing! This is not being a serious fight! The griffin that is so large, he is not hurting Rufus, but I am thinking that he could. I am guessing that this is being a test: Who are you, new small griffin, and what can you be doing?”

  It was true. The fight was very loud, and the griffins were flinging themselves about with abandon, but so far no blood had been drawn. Rufus’s cries sounded very much like the cries he made during a rousing game of Kill the Leather Ball, and the larger griffin was almost chuckling. By now he easily could have pinned Rufus down, but instead he dodged back and forth and snapped at him without actually making contact. Celie felt some of the blood return to her face and hands. If this was merely some kind of griffin greeting, she could handle it. She still didn’t like it, though.

  At last, exhausted and panting, the griffins separated. Rufus drooped, and his fur and feathers were a mess, but when Celie ran toward him he straightened and clicked his beak. She threw her arms around his neck and told him he was good and brave and wonderful. The male griffin hovered nearby, watching them with one eye while he preened and fussed over the state of his own feathers. Lulath came over to join Celie, stroking Rufus and calling him “such the clever of griffins!”

  This caught the male griffin’s full attention, and he sniffed Lulath up and down. The prince held out his arms and let the griffin snort and bat at him with good grace. The female griffin joined them and sniffed Lulath briefly. Then she smelled Rufus, then Celie again. She carked a question to her mate, and he lifted his head and crowed in answer. The female froze, and Celie took a step closer to Rufus, suddenly frightened again. What were they going to do now?

  The female griffin was buffeting Rufus with her wings, sniffing him and shoving Celie out of the way so that she could rub her head against Rufus. She was cooing, almost purring, really, and Rufus surprised Celie by making the sound in turn.

  “What’s happening, Lulath?” Celie whispered her question, not wanting to scare the griffins.

  “Our Celie,” Lulath said in a reverent hush, “it is my thinking that they are being the beautiful mother and the proud father of the beloved Rufus.”

  Chapter 3

  The joyous reunion of Rufus and his parents was cut short when Lilah and Rolf emerged from the trees looking thoroughly filthy, scratched, and hungry. When they saw Celie and Lulath standing in the middle of a huddle of griffins, Lilah let out a scream that would have rivaled the most piercing griffin war cry.

  Lilah ran at the griffins, her fists raised, which shocked Celie at first. Then Celie realized how this must look to her sister: she and Lulath were standing under the upraised wings of two large griffins, who were squawking and flashing their talons and opening and closing their beaks in excitement. They were butting heads with each other and with Celie and Lulath, which did hurt, but in an endearing way, like being hugged too tightl
y by a great-aunt.

  “Lilah, it’s all right,” Celie shouted. Celie managed to slither out of the huddle of griffins and grab her sister’s wrists before Lilah hit one of them. “We’re fine! They’re Rufus’s parents!”

  “They’re what?”

  Lilah drew back and stared, first at the griffins, then at Celie, then back again.

  “His parents? That’s amazing,” Rolf said, running up. “Are you sure?”

  “Only be looking at him, and looking at them,” Lulath said. “Besides which, they are so very, with the excitement!”

  “Oh, how wonderful,” Lilah breathed. “Aren’t they magnificent?”

  They were. Celie felt her eyes prickle with tears again as she watched the two adult griffins cuddling Rufus.

  Her family had always been very close. Her father, King Glower the Seventy-ninth, had never shied away from embracing his children no matter their ages or the formality of the occasion. Their mother was fond of grabbing them, even Bran, who was the Royal Wizard, and covering their cheeks with kisses. And since last year, when the king and queen and Bran had nearly died, they’d been even more affectionate.

  When would Celie see them again? When was the next time she would be kissed by her mother, the way Rufus was being kissed by his?

  The griffins edged closer to Lilah and Rolf.

  “Now they will have the scenting of you,” Lulath instructed Lilah and Rolf. “Do not be having fears.”

  But the griffins weren’t sniffing them. All three were standing in a line, staring into the forest where Lilah and Rolf had just emerged. Rolf looked back, nervous.

  “Do they see something? I could have sworn we were being followed,” he said. “Didn’t I tell you, Lilah?”

  “It’s just because it’s a strange place,” Lilah began, shaking back her hair.

  Before she could finish, Rufus’s parents took off, leaping into the sky. They called back and Rufus answered. Then he cuddled close to Celie, who put her arm around him, glad that he still wanted her even though he’d found his family.

  Rufus’s parents landed again and were clearly calling for him to go with them. Torn, Rufus shrugged off Celie’s arm and took a few steps toward his father. Celie tried not to be hurt by this.

  “There’s something wrong, Cel,” Rolf said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Let him go.”

  Celie nodded. She swallowed the lump in her throat and made a shooing gesture. “Go on, boy,” she said gently. “Go ahead.”

  Rufus’s parents flew off, and this time he went with them.

  “He’ll come back,” Rolf said as Celie tried not to cry.

  “Of course he will,” said a voice behind them. “Griffins and their riders are bonded for life.”

  Celie whirled around and the others followed her. Rolf cursed and Lilah gasped, but Lulath said nothing at all, nor did Celie. She just felt the blood drain out of her face and hands again, and glancing up at Lulath, she saw that he also was pale. He very gently took her right hand in his left, then reached over and took Lilah’s hand with his right.

  Standing at the edge of the courtyard, in the shadow of the tall trees, was a man. A very old man. He had a great ruff of white hair like a lion’s, and wore belted, dust-colored robes. He was tall with a high forehead and dark eyes that were very round, giving him a constant look of surprise. He looked familiar.

  “Who are you?” Rolf demanded, throwing back his shoulders and doing his best to appear princely. He stepped in front of the others, which made Lilah hiss in irritation, but Celie was secretly glad.

  “I no longer have a name,” the old man said with gentle regret. “Long ago I was a wizard, but I have cast aside such things, that I may fade away with my land.”

  Celie felt one of her eyebrows rising, almost involuntarily, at this speech. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lilah’s mouth curl up in a faint smirk.

  “I see,” Rolf said, sounding just a touch nonplussed. “Then how shall we address you?”

  “I may be called by the name of my country, though it, too, has passed beyond,” the old man intoned.

  At the words “passed beyond,” Celie knew why he looked so familiar.

  “You’re Wizard Arkwright’s uncle,” she blurted out. “The Arkower!”

  He looked surprised, and then pleased.

  “Ah! You have heard of me?”

  “We hoped that we would find you,” Rolf said. “Your nephew, Wizard Arkwright … thought you might help us.”

  That was stretching the truth a little, Celie thought. Arkwright had had to be threatened and cajoled for everything he told them, and had said only that his uncle had the other piece of the Castle’s Eye. They had no reason to think that he would help them, and it was only the greatest good luck that they’d even found him in this strange world.

  “My nephew lives?” The Arkower’s ancient face crinkled with pleasure.

  They nodded.

  The old man leaned forward. “And he has a griffin of his own now, of course?”

  They all looked at one another, and Celie made a little encouraging motion at Rolf. As the Crown Prince, he really should speak for them, even though he was rolling his eyes at Lilah, who was older.

  Finally Rolf straightened even more, brushing at his dirty tunic in a completely useless gesture. He looked like he’d been, well, fighting his way through a dense forest, and his clothes were clearly ruined.

  “He does not,” Rolf said finally.

  “What? All that way and no griffin?” The Arkower clucked his tongue. “How unfortunate.” He gave Rolf a searching look, then glanced up at the hazy sky. “And where is your griffin?”

  Rolf shook his head slightly. “I don’t have one. Only Celie does.” He waved a hand at Celie. She took a small step forward, still clutching Lulath’s hand.

  “Only the Hathelocke girl?” The Arkower’s eyebrows climbed ever higher. “Then you are not highly placed at court, for all your fine clothing?”

  “I am the Crown Prince of Sleyne and heir to Castle Glower,” Rolf announced, more than a little offended. “Princess Cecelia is my sister. She’s not a Hathelocke, not really. She is of Sleyne,” he finished rather lamely.

  “Castle … Glower?” The Arkower rolled the words around his mouth. “Glower?”

  “That’s what the Castle is called, in Sleyne,” Celie said helpfully. “I suppose it was called something different here in the Glorious Arkower.”

  “It was merely the Castle,” the wizard told her. “The center of all.” He was frowning, his eyebrows pulling down over his dark eyes. “But if you are the Crown Prince, why does your sister have the yellow hair of a Hathelocke? And why do you not have a griffin?” His mouth turned down and he squinted at Rolf. “Would none accept you?”

  Celie let go of Lulath’s hand so that she could reach forward and squeeze Rolf’s. There was something about the way the old man said this that made her want Rolf to tread very carefully. Was he testing them? Judging them to see if they were worthy of the Castle? And what was he saying about Rolf? It sounded insulting.

  Rolf squeezed her hand back but then let go of it.

  “The only griffin in Sleyne is my sister’s griffin,” he said. “You helped to send the griffins and their riders to Sleyne, along with the Castle, but you did not go yourself. So I’m afraid that you do not know the grim news.”

  The Arkower cocked his head to one side in a motion that was strangely griffin-like. Yet there was something … awful … about him all the same, Celie thought.

  “The grim news?” The Arkower sounded almost mocking.

  “The griffins that you sent with the Castle all died,” Rolf said bluntly, and Celie could tell that he was also put off by the Arkower’s manner. “So did most of their riders. They carried the plague with them, and were gone within a few weeks. No one in Sleyne even suspected griffins were real until my sister hatched one this year. The Castle brought the egg from here for her.”

  “Where was my nephew, then?”


  Rolf shrugged. “Elsewhere. He had decided it was better for all trace of the griffins to be erased. He removed any books or scrolls that talked of griffins and stayed far away from Sleyne.”

  The Arkower nodded. “I’m sure he did what was best,” he said. He nodded again. “So, you are here to bring your griffin back where it belongs?” he asked Celie.

  “No,” Celie told him. “We’re here by accident. The Castle has been … having difficulties, and we ended up here because we were trapped in one of the towers.”

  She didn’t feel like saying that the Castle had steered them to the towers, or that it was putting the piece of the Eye of the Castle back in its proper place that had done it. She didn’t like this old wizard, and she wasn’t going to tell him more than he needed to know. They’d talked about finding the Arkower, about returning triumphant with the other half of the Eye, but something told her this was not the time to ask the old wizard to help them with that.

  “Having difficulties?” The Arkower sighed. “Of course it has! It’s been under attack!”

  “It has?” Celie and Rolf spoke at the same time.

  “As has been the thinking,” Lulath added.

  “Why, yes,” the Arkower said as though it were not a very serious issue. He seemed surprised by their reaction. “But it’s not something that I care to speak about here. Why don’t we retire to my home, so that you can eat and rest?”

  Celie and her siblings communicated silently with looks and motions of their shoulders. Then Celie thought of Pogue, who probably had been sleeping all this time. Had it done him more harm than good? She’d been gone the better part of an hour now. Lilah kept rolling her eyes and making a crinkled face, which seemed to indicate that she didn’t trust the old man, either. But they did need to get the Eye from him, as Rolf silently mouthed.