Rise of the Gryphon (Belador)

by Kenyon, Sherrilyn

  “I’m sorry,” Brina said, backing away. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You’re not interrupting,” Macha cooed. “How are the wedding plans coming?”

  Wedding? This was more than a phony engagement.

  Macha rattled on as if every word didn’t shove a knife deeper in his heart. “Ask Allyn’s mother to help. What mother of the groom wouldn’t want to play a role in his wedding?”

  Tzader’s mouth dried up. He couldn’t look at Allyn without lunging through the ward to kill him, and he couldn’t look at Brina without admitting he’d never stop loving her.

  Mumbling that he had to talk with Quinn and the other Beladors guarding the island, Tzader stepped away, careful not to fall when his vision blurred.

  Brina gripped the door frame so tightly that her fingers were white. She had to hold on to something to keep from running down Treoir’s steps after Tzader. All the fury she’d bottled up for weeks while she’d waited patiently for Tzader to fight for her she now turned on Macha. “How could you do that to him?”

  “About the wedding? He knows.”

  Brina had intended to tell Tzader, at the right time, as part of her plan to outmaneuver Macha so that she could be with Tzader, the only man she’d ever love. But Macha had interfered, as usual. What exactly had she told Tzader? Brina shoved a furious gaze at the goddess. “You might have consulted me first before announcin’ my engagement.”

  Macha lost all lightheartedness. “What are you waiting on? It’s not as though you have other suitors besides Allyn coming to the door, now, is it?”

  “We had an agreement. I am upholdin’ my part. There was no reason to be forcin’ my hand, as I still have time.” Brina had foolishly thought Macha would help her and Tzader find a way to be together in spite of the warding, but the conversation had backfired when Macha had accused Brina of not allowing Tzader to move on.

  Macha thought Tzader would turn his back on the love he and Brina had shared since their teens, but Brina believed in him. In her heart, she was sure Tzader would never give her up without a fight, even with their impossible situation with the ward on the castle.

  Shrugging off any concern over Brina’s anger, Macha said, “You might as well plan your wedding, since I don’t see Tzader interfering.”

  Under no circumstances could Brina step outside the castle and risk dying, but Macha had allowed a loophole in her agreement with Brina. The only way to take advantage of that loophole had been to devise a strategy that was a high-stakes gamble, but Brina would risk all for a chance to be with Tzader.

  She’d convinced Allyn to act as her new romantic interest to push Tzader along more quickly since she’d been forbidden from telling Tzader about her agreement with Macha. The Goddess contended that Tzader had too much honor to tell Brina the truth if he wanted to break off the doomed relationship. He would never hurt her that way.

  Much as it had pained Brina, she had admitted that he deserved a fair chance to make that decision. That’s when Macha had twisted the situation around on Brina, gaining an agreement that had cut her heart into pieces only Tzader could put back together. What a tangled situation that had gotten out of hand.

  Brina had put all her hopes on Tzader not being able to walk away. But he just had. He’d said nothing at hearing she would wed another man.

  No reaction of anger or hurt. Could Macha be right after all?

  For the first time since agreeing to do her part in the breakup, Brina felt true fear of losing Tzader. He was her life.

  How would she breathe without him?

  THIRTY-THREE

  The woman he loved more than life was going to marry someone else.

  Tzader stood off to the side, waiting as Quinn gave directions to three patrols. Treoir Castle loomed a quarter mile away. Until now, this had been the land of his childhood. A place he’d expected to call home at some point only if Brina had to live here.

  He didn’t want a damn castle.

  He wanted Brina.

  “Who kicked you in the proverbial jewels?” Quinn asked in his clipped British accent.

  “Life.” Rather than answer the curiosity in his friend’s question, Tzader moved on to yet another problem. He was ruining everyone’s day. “Evalle’s missing.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Tzader caught Quinn up on the beast championship. “Macha’s ready to declare Evalle the enemy, but I know she didn’t willfully join the Medb.”

  Quinn was quiet, staring off at the horizon. The man who defined style on casual days looked out of place in a long-sleeved dark-green pullover and jungle camouflage pants. He’d climbed out of a Russian gutter to become a financial genius and powerful Belador with mind locking ability like no other.

  Releasing a stream of air, Quinn raked his hair. “How are we going to get her back?”

  “I don’t know, but there’s another problem. Lanna.”

  “What’s the brat done now? Destroyed Evalle’s apartment?” Before Tzader could reply, Quinn lifted a hand. “Tell Evalle to put her in VIPER lockdown. I told Lanna I would put her there if she caused any more problems. She’ll be safe until I can get to her.”

  “I don’t know what she did, but she’s missing.”

  Quinn’s face warped into that of a dangerous warrior. “Bloody hell, that wizard has her.”

  “What wizard?”

  When Quinn told him about Grendal, Tzader speculated, “Grendal may not have her. Evalle took Lanna and Feenix to her friend Nicole’s to watch while Evalle was gone.”

  “Does Nicole know where Evalle is?”

  “No. Nicole contacted me when she couldn’t find Lanna. She thinks Lanna cloaked herself and slipped out with Evalle.”

  “Sounds like the brat,” Quinn ground out.

  “So Lanna is either hiding somewhere—”

  “Or with Evalle,” Quinn finished.

  Tzader nodded. “Storm was with Evalle at the beast championship.”

  “What’d he tell you?”

  “Nothing yet. Haven’t been able to find him.” Taking a last look at the castle, Tzader said, “I know you’re worried about Lanna, but I need you here. I’ll hunt for her and Evalle, and let you know what I find out.”

  The urge to leave and go hunt for his teenage cousin was written all over Quinn’s face, but he was a warrior and Belador first. Plus, he shared a bond with Evalle and Tzader, and knew he could trust Tzader to do as much as Quinn could. “I’ll stay.”

  Tzader squeezed Quinn’s shoulder, thanking him for his trust. “I’ll turn loose everything I have at my disposal to find them.”

  But he had to do so quietly. If Macha realized he would not declare Evalle the enemy, she’d remove him as Maistir and send in someone who would do her bidding.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Why did dying have to be so painful?

  Evalle couldn’t raise her arm. Breathing took more effort than blinking her eyes. The five gashes ripped across her chest bled down her pretty new aqua skin.

  Storm would never see her as a gryphon.

  Boomer laughed at her, his claws dripping her blood. He’d morphed into a gryphon with black and gold scales. Cardinal-red feathers speckled with black covered his wings.

  In her head she heard him say, Not such a badass after all, are you?

  She really wanted to cut his golden head off and see if that would kill him even as a gryphon.

  He wouldn’t have won this battle if not for the two swords he’d been given. And his elastic body that healed itself so quickly.

  Kizira flashed into the arena, hands on her hips and scowl in place. “Get up. We don’t have time for you to waste.”

  Evalle added Kizira’s head to her death list.

  “Oh, come on,” Kizira complained. “Heal and get moving.”

  After watching others like Tristan die and then regain life, Evalle thought she’d be ready for this transformation when she heard it would only make her stronger.

  Kizira leaned down
. “Heal or I’ll let Boomer finish you off.”

  Boomer made a happy growling sound.

  Evalle decided right then to live, if for no other reason than to kick his miserable hide. Drawing on her beast energy, she sent it rushing through her to the five wounds on her chest, her broken hind leg and the ripped wing.

  She’d never healed that fast even in Alterant beast form.

  One flap of her wings and she reached her feet, towering over Kizira.

  Evalle asked, How many more times do I have to die?

  Kizira answered her telepathically this time, That’s it for now. You can only die three times and come back to life. After that, you won’t survive another mortal wound. We want you to go through this once just to be stronger.

  Three times? That’s it? That’s limited immortality.

  Kizira admitted, I know. It’s just a temporary regeneration of life.

  That would mean you lied at the beast games.

  Kizira glanced over at Boomer, who waited with arms crossed.

  Evalle assumed his nonreaction meant he couldn’t hear her conversation with Kizira. How’d you get past the lie detector at the beast championship?

  The Medb never claimed to offer immortality. Like any secondhand information, things are embellished or modified once they become hearsay. We told Kol the Medb would offer the Alterants a chance to become warriors who could conquer death. And at this moment, you have conquered death, fulfilling our offer, but only for two more times.

  Kizira swept around to face Boomer. “You’re done here.”

  Boomer hung his head, clearly disappointed not to kill something else.

  “We’ve got two more to turn into gryphons.” With a wave of her hand, Kizira brought Bernie on scene. He took one look at both Evalle and Boomer, then passed out.

  Evalle told Kizira, Let me stay and coach him. He has a big beast form.

  He can’t communicate with you telepathically until he takes gryphon form and I bond him to the group.

  Evalle hadn’t been in human form since she’d battled Tristan, and she wondered how hard it would be to change back. Tristan had done so once he’d calmed down enough to realize he’d been tricked into believing Evalle had murdered his sister.

  Reaching inside herself, Evalle called the change, and with a few painful twists and snaps, she shrank into her human body.

  Naked.

  A bulge started developing under Boomer’s lower feathers.

  Evalle snapped at Kizira. “Clothes!”

  Gray sweatpants and a matching jersey top covered Evalle in the next instant. Her face felt just as naked without sunglasses, but she hadn’t really needed them since shifting into a gryphon.

  Did that mean she could go out in daylight?

  And watch a sunrise or a sunset?

  Yearning to do that with Storm hit her hard. She clutched her stomach and forced her mind back on track.

  With a look up at Boomer, who still sported a rod under those feathers, she warned, “Don’t give me a reason to test my new strength.”

  Kizira rounded on Evalle and Boomer. “Listen up, you two. None of the gryphons are to be killed more than one time. Break that rule and you’ll face Flaevynn. Trust me, you don’t want to annoy the queen.”

  Boomer spread his wings and made a half bow in reply.

  Kizira ordered him, “Go train until I come for you.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand and Boomer disappeared. Then she told Evalle, “Coach Bernie later. Tristan’s waiting to brief you.”

  “On what?” The room around Evalle disappeared and another location took shape. This one had wood paneling, a thick Persian rug and a polished wood desk with a sleek office chair that Tristan sat in.

  He stood up. “Looks like you survived the hardest test.”

  “I don’t want to go through that again anytime soon.” She hadn’t decided how she felt about being a gryphon, other than enjoying a more attractive beast form than she had as only an Alterant. “Have you died more than once?”

  “No. The Medb are adamant about one time per gryphon.”

  “Why?”

  “They have future plans for us and don’t want to use up our other two get-out-of-death-free cards right now.” He walked around the end of the desk and leaned back against the front.

  Evalle took one of the two cushioned chairs facing him. “You’re supposed to be briefing me. What about?”

  “Attacking Treoir.”

  “I won’t do it.”

  “Yes, you will. You haven’t been compelled yet. Once you are, you’ll cut off your own arm if they tell you to.”

  Evalle scoffed at him. “You would kill your sister if they told you?”

  “I did. That’s how she went through her first power change.”

  That shocked Evalle. “Did you know you were fighting Petrina, or did they trick you like they tricked you into believing I’d killed her?”

  His eyes hooded with shame. “Yes, I knew I was attacking Petrina. That was the point. To let me know just how much power they have over me.”

  Her heart broke for Tristan. He’d gone through battles and horrors to protect Petrina. “I will fight them if they compel me.”

  “I know you want to, but fighting isn’t the way around the compulsion.”

  Evalle glanced at the walls and ceiling, then back at Tristan. “Aren’t you worried about them hearing you?”

  “I figured out the strange ward Kizira placed around this space. The walls actually glow when anyone approaches or if Flaevynn tries to watch us through her scrying wall. Once Kizira bonded me to her, I could see the same changes in the room that she saw when someone wanted to eavesdrop or visit. She allows me to visit with my sister here even though we’re supposed to be kept apart.”

  “What a considerate hostess.”

  “In spite of all that I’ve been through with Kizira, I’ve come to realize since being here that she’s Flaevynn’s puppet, just like I’m now Kizira’s.”

  “There has to be a way to get you out of here.”

  “No, I’m screwed. I won’t be allowed to travel with you to Treoir, but I’m trying to convince Kizira to send Petrina with the rest of you. If she does, I’m hoping you pull one of those maniacal stunts out of your ass and save her.”

  Not flattering, but a compliment coming from him. Evalle would not attack Treoir or leave Tristan here. “What’s the attack plan?”

  “I can’t tell you that.” He opened his hands in apology. “Part of the compulsion spell.”

  “Then what are you supposed to be telling me?”

  “How the attack is going to function. First, the gryphons will follow the one person who is the strongest.”

  Evalle interjected, “Like the alpha in a wolf pack.”

  “Right. Kizira is that person as she’s the one who holds power over the bond. Five of you will have specific targets, since you’re more powerful than the other gryphons.”

  Reaching up to her head, Evalle stopped before stroking over her hair as if she still had feathers. “The golden heads? I saw four others.” She looked at Tristan, recalling that his wasn’t, which he must have read in her gaze.

  “Nope. I’m not one of the”—he lifted his fingers to make air quotes—“chosen five.”

  “You can teleport. Why wouldn’t they want a gryphon with that power?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows? Anyhow, once you all arrive on Treoir, two will sweep a one-mile-wide perimeter around the castle, torching everything to tighten the fighting zone. Two more will be inside that zone using kinetics and streams of fire to mow down Beladors who won’t be able to link. A gryphon can easily kill one Belador, which would destroy everyone linked.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Our kinetic strength alone is far more powerful than a Belador’s.”

  Envisioning the potential massacre made her sick. If she couldn’t stop the attack from happening, she had to find a way to warn her tribe. “I know you hate the Beladors, but they don’t
deserve this.”

  “I don’t hate them. Not anymore. After talking to Kizira, I’ve come to realize I was wrong about our origins as Alterants.”

  Forgetting everything else, she zeroed in on the question that had plagued her life as a half-breed. “What’s the other half of our blood?”

  When he didn’t answer, she shoved to her feet, fingers curled into fists. “No more stonewalling me, Tristan. What are we other than Belador?”

  “We all have Belador blood and that of an ancient warrior called Cú Chulainn. In battle he would turn berserker and change into a beast. That’s where we get the beast traits. He was a celebrated warrior during the time of the original Cathbad the Druid and Queen Maeve.”

  “Maeve, as in the first Medb?” When he nodded, she raised her hands in the air in a frustrated motion. “That was like . . . forever ago.”

  “Right. She and the original Cathbad created a prophecy, to take down the Beladors. They set into motion a perpetual changing of the guard where a female blood descendant of Maeve became queen and mated with a druid descendant of Cathbad, of which there were different lineages. Those two always produce a female child, who becomes the next Medb queen six hundred and sixty-six years later, upon her mother’s death. This has gone on for generation after generation, but Flaevynn refuses to play by the rules.”

  Evalle tapped her finger on her lip, thinking. “What’s supposed to happen now that hasn’t happened before or won’t in the future?”

  “That’s the one question no one has been able to answer.”

  “Or won’t tell you,” Evalle pointed out.

  “No, I think they really haven’t figured it out, because the curse is written as a riddle. Flaevynn doesn’t care. She’s determined to be the last queen standing even though the prophecy doesn’t actually designate her as such. Word is that Flaevynn’s rushing the time line and risking everyone’s life to beat the prophecy, which she calls a curse, so this may blow up in everyone’s faces.”

  “Do you believe she can do this?”