by J. C. Owens
“This is the only kingdom with grifs! We can’t just fly in somewhere else and expect them to be accepted!” Andon’s voice had risen, and Daren saw other riders look over to see what the fuss was.
“Are grifs accepted so well here? In our past, the grifs were equals, honored, revered. How did it come to this? I don’t think this kingdom has done anything to protect or respect griffon-salants. Perhaps it is time we introduced them to other countries, other places, and begin again. Who knows, they might well be a better place for all grifs, and the future might see our kingdom losing out on what they have taken for granted for so long.”
Andon stared at him, blinking. “Don’t you see? We don’t know what is out there beyond the wastelands. The occasional trader is no indication of what those countries might be like, how hostile.”
“Or how welcoming,” Daren suggested gently. “We are not going to have many choices, my mate.” He reached out and teased a strand of hair back behind Andon’s ear. “I will not be parted from you, and if this coup fails, then we will not be welcome anywhere in the kingdom. We are taking a chance even going to Anisstor.”
Andon glared at him, then glanced at Olnar with a frown. He rose shakily to his feet and headed for Ceris. “You’re both going to regret doing this, and I will not support you in it.”
Daren watched him go, a fond smile tilting his lips. He glanced at Olnar. “You’re sure in this?”
“As sure as anything I have ever decided. Not that those decisions were necessarily wise.” Olnar’s smirk was echoed in his twinkling eyes. “The others are just as sure. Stubborn lot if you ask me.”
“And you the most stubborn of the bunch,” Daren teased.
“Nope. That title goes to you, Captain.”
Andon thought he might be sick. He could hear Olnar and Daren’s banter as he left, and anger rose in his thoughts. They could not be serious. They could not believe that leaving all they had ever known—all family, friends behind, their very world—could lead to a happy future.
He went to where Ceris and Gretnel were twined together and leaned against her for comfort, murmuring to her softly.
She raised her head, managed a small, soft sound in response before she sank back, eyes closed again, and she went back to sleep.
He slid down her side and rested his back against her shoulder, closing his own eyes.
It was because Daren and the others had never been alone, never been ostracized or struggled to survive without support. They did not know. They had lives, people who loved them, good memories of the past. They could not just throw that away.
And yet, they had.
Even if Andon fled now, left them all behind, they would be blamed for the attack upon the king, for Habnin’s and Byrant’s deaths. None of them would be safe.
He let his head fall back against Ceris’s warm hide. He wanted to blame himself for all this, but he was too practical to indulge in such a lie. He had done nothing to call Ceris to him in the beginning. He had not ever imagined they would bond. Certainly, neither his grif, nor he, had ever wanted to become part of the corps. It just seemed fate kept throwing them in the path of psychotic people who wanted something out of him that he would never offer freely.
The sound of unsteady footsteps interrupted his black musings, and he looked up, meeting Daren’s gaze. Andon frowned, feeling his anger flare hotter.
His anger did not seem to deter the Anisstor captain in the least. Instead of being properly intimidated, he slid down to sit in the dirt beside Andon, close enough to touch if he wanted but not pressing against him. Giving him space and respect.
Andon wanted to throw something, scream to the skies. Respect? What had he ever done that deserved something like that? Space? He knew Daren wanted him, could see the heat in his gaze, see the way the man caught his breath whenever Andon touched him, accidentally or not. Yet, he did not pursue it.
Andon growled under his breath, reaching out and snagging the front of Daren’s flight leathers, yanking him toward himself and kissing him, hard, but managing to avoid his wound.
There was a heartbeat of shock when Daren did not respond, then an arm gently slid around his back, pulling him closer. Gretnel’s captain did not attempt to take over, did not try to dominate, only hummed with pleasure and let Andon take charge.
The surge of lust he felt was beyond any comprehension.
They were alive. Andon and Ceris were free. No matter what the future brought, in this moment they had each other. Andon realized with stunning clarity that he wanted Daren’s touch with a ferocity that could not be rational. Wanted his mate’s touch to cleanse away the horror of Byrant’s possession.
Daren hummed under his kiss, arching under his hold. The move so sensual that Andon felt his own body tighten in response.
He growled, feeling Daren shiver at the sound, and broke off the kiss to lick at his mate’s neck, tasting the sweat, and under it, the taste of Daren. He felt like he imprinted upon it, as though he would forever associate that delicate flavor with this man.
Daren let his head fall back, his fingers spasming upon Andon’s back, his eyes dark with lust.
Andon’s fingers flattened on the leather that separated them, frustration almost overwhelming him. There were too many people witnessing this, too much uncertainty to take the time. They were both wounded. Damn it.
“When we are safe, you are mine,” his growl into Daren’s ear produced the most beautiful reaction in his mate. The captain shivered, his eyes rolling back, his fingers tightening in reflex. Andon stroked a hand down over the flight jacket, teasing his fingers under the bottom and letting his touch stroke over a lean stomach that sucked in abruptly at the touch, quivering.
Daren’s breath was almost a pant now. He was watching Andon with such heat, such want, that Andon felt scorched, his body leaning into…
“Mine,” he snarled, before breaking off the seduction. He gritted his teeth and leaned his forehead against Daren’s as they both just breathed, shivering with a need there was no time to fulfill.
Daren felt nothing but elated shock. His mate wanted him, truly wanted him, had taken complete charge of the situation. He wanted to strip off his leathers, wanted to pull Andon down on top of him and see this to its inevitable, glorious conclusion.
Instead, he forced himself under control, though he could not release his grip upon the smaller man. They were together. Whatever happened from this point out, Daren would fight to keep this man. Not a king, not a kingdom, could take him away again.
* * *
They rested through the afternoon, and then the night, to give Ceris and Gretnel a chance to recover their strength. Andon was beside himself with worry. If the royal wing should appear…
“Then we will fight.” Daren felt a grim certainty.
They left early in the morning, the sun barely over the horizon, the air still mist-laden. Andon rode with Daren, worry eating at his thoughts. Daren needed to rest and he thought hopefully of where they were headed, of Anisstor and a real bed. This constant movement did not do Daren’s wound any good. Vatner was in even worse shape, being carried in a sling by his worried grif. Gretnel’s wounds seemed to be healing well and clean, although Daren could sense his pain through their bond and he gave what comfort he could.
Ceris did not seem to be improving as quickly as they’d hoped. Her movements were stiff and without grace. She was painfully slow in flight, leaving the others forced to circle her, trying to keep to her pace. It left Daren and Andon glancing over their shoulders continually. But she was a strong grif, wild born, and Gretnel, Daren, and Andon all felt a fierce pride as she flew on, determined to reach safety under the power of her own wings.
There would be pursuit, of that Daren was certain. There was no way that the king could afford to let them go.
Unless he was dealing with a revolution.
Daren let a cold smile curl his lips. He would have loved to be there, to see the bastard sweat.
* * *
The challenge ceased, but they would be required to land within the outer circle, to be properly identified. Commander Thasin had rigorous security measures in place. Not a trusting sort at the best of times, he ran a tight base.
Ceris collapsed after landing, and Andon slid painfully down from behind Daren, stumbling to her and kneeling by her head, murmuring to her, stroking her face. Daren could see the tension in his mate’s body, the worry he could not hide.
Despite her show of determination and endurance in flying this far, Ceris was still not recovering as well as everyone had expected. While Gretnel was healing swiftly, Ceris seemed worse.
Grifs were wondrously strong creatures, recovering relatively quickly from wounds and exhaustion. But what of the drugs? Daren had never heard of a grif being drugged multiple times, like Ceris had. He was deeply worried for her.
He slid down Gretnel’s neck with an effort. Commander Lasrem strode to him, putting his arm over Daren’s shoulders to steady him. They made their way forward to meet the guards, who had appeared from the underground bunkers that sheltered them from the weather and potential attacks. Behind them, the great walls of Anisstor towered over them, comfortably familiar. The sense of safety he felt, the way his shoulders slowly eased down, told him exactly how tense he had been since he had left these familiar surroundings to enter the strife and conflict of Farfall.
He glanced over at Andon. He would do everything all over again—if it meant he met Andon and found a truemate.
The first guard to reach them was his friend, Sergeant Nas Seeyar. “Greetings, Captain. I did not receive word of your return.” Seeyar rumbled and reached out to shake his hand, a welcoming if somewhat puzzled smile on his round face. “The commander has not organized a welcome…” He eyed Daren’s bandaged arm with concern. “Is there trouble?”
“Commander Thasin didn’t know we were coming, my friend. Yes, I bring trouble in my wake. Big trouble.”
Seeyar straightened at his tone, eyes narrowing. “From Farfall?” The note of distaste in his voice showed the reputation the far-flung base had across the kingdom.
“A long story, Nas. We are on the run and won’t stay here long. I just want to warn the commander…”
“This has to do with the king, doesn’t it?”
Daren froze, disbelieving, staring at his friend and unsure how to answer. He didn’t want to bring the royal fury down around their heads.
“You think people don’t know about him?” Seeyar’s growl was fierce. “I am not nobility. My family lives in the capital, and everything I hear, from them, from others, points to our ‘king’ as a selfish tyrant. The capital has been ripe for a rebellion for decades.”
Daren felt a surge of anger toward himself. How had he not known this? The answer was simple enough. The gap between the nobility and the rest of the population was wide enough that neither truly understood the other. Certainly no one from the populace was going to risk telling a noble they didn’t support the king.
Daren himself and his family held no such gap, never had. The servants who worked for them were considered family, and upon coming to Anisstor, he had simply continued with that mindset, making quite a few friends among the guards. Now he wished that he had been more aware of the situation, asked a few more questions.
“I need to speak to the commander and let him know what is happening before we leave.”
Seeyar tilted his head, watching him with knowing eyes. “Heard rumors you found your mate. Better yet, a true mate.”
Daren nodded, unable to prevent a smile from curving his lips as he gestured toward Andon.
Seeyar nodded. “Now you’ve got something worth fighting for.” He turned aside and spoke to a man behind him. The messenger sped off toward the fortress. “Come. I will take you through the tunnels. I have ordered a force of guards and grif handlers to come oversee your grifs.”
When Daren spoke to the others, Andon refused to leave Ceris. “Speak to your commander. Decide where we are going.”
Daren was stunned. “You would trust me in this? Without input?”
Andon eyed him, a hint of amusement in the look. “If I can’t trust you by now, with everything that has happened between us…”
Daren found himself grinning back. “I won’t break that trust, I swear. I’ve worked too damn hard to achieve it. You are not an easy man, Andon Grazon, but worth every trial.”
Andon snorted, then shooed him away. “Go.”
Commander Thasin met Daren in the courtyard, his powerful form looming over everyone else.
“Captain Phalnir. Commander Lasrem. Damn good to see you.” He nodded to the rest of the riders and raised a questioning brow at sight of Daren’s injury.
“You might take those words back once you hear what I have to say and what trouble I have brought you.” Daren shook the massive hand that the commander offered.
Thasin’s eyebrow rose. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the king wanting your true mate, would it?”
Daren’s jaw dropped. “How in the…”
“It’s been no secret that the king had plans for Captain Grazon and that grif of his. When you sent me the news that you had bonded with him, I knew it could lead to nothing good.” He smiled a little at Daren’s speechless state. “So, by your presence here, can I assume that the king acted, you responded, and now are on the run?”
Olnar gave a laugh that swiftly slid into a cough.
“How do you do that, sir?” Daren asked. “You’re always ten steps ahead of me. Ahead of everyone.”
Thasin laughed, then reached out to shake Lasrem’s hand. “Good to see you, old friend! Just wish things were a little better, but I should have known you would be knee deep in this. Just like old times.”
Lasrem took the hand and pulled the huge man close, giving him a hug that they both held onto before pulling back and elbowing him.
“You’re a nosy bastard, always have been. Keep your finger on the political pulse all over the kingdom. Good to know that hasn’t changed. There is a revolution in the works, and why do I think you already know that?”
Thasin elbowed him back, and for a moment, they looked young again, like the boys they had been so long ago.
“I’ve waited a long time for this. Yes, I know what is happening, and it changes everything. There are plans in place…” He shook his head. “You don’t need the details right now. Suffice to say I am pulling all my troops out of here, and we will be going to Farfall, where we can stage a base to support the rebels.”
Daren stared, speechless. This was all happening so fast and no one was reacting the way he had expected. He felt like a child who had not realized what the adults were planning.
“We still have to leave,” he said, but it sounded more like a question than anything else.
“No. You don’t.” Thasin was blunt. “I am leaving Anisstor in your care with a skeleton crew of staff. That way, you are still doing your duty and you have not abandoned your post. You are under my orders, as you have always been, and this base has never been taken. It is the safest place in the kingdom as far as I am concerned. This will be your first base command, Commander Phalnir.” He saluted Daren as one equal to another.
Daren took an inordinately long time to return the gesture, but his poor brain was just not keeping up with what was happening. None of this made sense, none of it…
They didn’t have to leave.
His heart leaped. He didn’t have to lead them out into the unknown, to where wyverns ruled and danger was around every corner.
He took a deep breath, straightening up into formal posture. “Thank you, Commander, for your faith in me, and for the promotion. I will look after Anisstor—we will look after Anisstor—and return it to you in fine form.”
“I know you will, Commander Phalnir.” The faith in those few w
ords left a glow in Daren’s heart.
“It will take a few days for us to pack up, then we will be gone. When I can, I will send back others to support you all.” He clapped a massive hand down on Daren’s shoulder. “Let’s go meet this truemate of yours.”
Andon stood at Ceris’s shoulder, shading his eyes as he stared out over the landscape. Ceris had slid into sleep, true sleep, and he hoped that they would not have to leave immediately.
It was so different here, so green. He could see the desert some distance away, but here, it was lush and fertile, a large powerful river running past the fortress, greenery dipping down into the waters. Beautiful.
He drew a deep breath and drank it in. Once they left, into the desert, this would only be a pleasant memory. He tried not to imagine how hard it was going to be to find a place for them in the unknown, the dangerous wilds of the desert. The probable deprivation they would have to go through—
“Andon!”
He turned on his heel, watching as his mate approached with the others, several strangers among the mix. The largest, a powerful one-eyed man with a presence that grabbed attention, was most likely the base commander. Andon braced himself. If he had been this commander, he would be anything but pleased with the rider who had set this mess in motion.
He straightened to attention, sliding behind his blank mask.
The man walked right to him, then held out a beefy hand that dwarfed Andon’s own. “My thanks, Captain Grazon, for what you have done and endured.”
Andon stared at him, slowly offering his hand and seeing it swallowed up. He cast a confused glance at Daren.
“Your kidnapping was the spark to set this all in motion. Resistance to the throne that has been riding on a knife edge for far too long. The fact that you stood up to him is admirable. I have faith that you will make a good second in command for Commander Phalnir.”
Andon blinked, giving his lover another, heavier glance and frowning.