The Gryphon Highlord

by Connie Ward

  Finally he said, “Maybe I should go."

  "Go?” I asked in alarm. “Why must you go?"

  He pulled me tighter. “Do you know how long it's been for me? Not since Nelia. I'm afraid if you ask me to stop I might...” His voice trailed away in an anguished sigh.

  I turned to face him. “Don't be afraid,” I murmured, plucking at the laces of his shirt. “I won't ask you to stop."

  As we fell onto the bed all thoughts of Valleri and Uncle fled. No one existed for me but Ginger. Nothing else mattered. Not the Crusaders. Not Valleri. I would give it all up for the mage, if that's what this one night cost me.

  Ginger was a wonder, caressing me with unexpected tenderness, so unlike Valleri's intense passion, yet no less thrilling. Something significant had happened. It was no casual tryst, no idle pleasure. I did not, however, delude myself with the fanciful notion it would last forever. But later, cradled in Ginger's arms, I knew instinctively I would never love any other man. I would be his until time came to a fiery end.

  * * * *

  I stirred after dawn, as rays of sunshine slanted across the bed. I pushed myself onto an elbow and glanced over my shoulder in the fear Ginger was gone. But he was still there, beside me, asleep.

  I settled on my side so I might better see him, memorizing every detail, afraid I may never be this close to him again. I reached out to stroke the birthmark on his hipbone, then the long white scar emblazoned across his ribs marking the passage of a Royalist blade, and lastly, gently, the puckered and angry skin stretched tight over his left cheekbone and down his jaw line.

  An overwhelming sense of grief struck me. He would hate me, I knew with sudden surety, once he learned the truth. How long did I have with him until I would be forced to confess? Two, maybe three days. It would have to be enough.

  Ginger moaned drowsily and pulled me closer. I rested my head on his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. My betrayal of Valleri was almost complete. A twinge of guilt pricked my conscience. It annoyed me. After all, Valleri had betrayed me long ago. Even now, he probably gathered concubines for his royal bed. Perhaps one lay with him at this same moment.

  Val's treachery had hurt me deeply, beyond forgiveness. From the beginning Valleri had plotted to seize the throne and murder Uncle, using me in a most vile way. Even though I had come to accept Val was about to steal my crown out from under me, one thing disturbed me, gnawing away at my conviction. If Valleri truly desired to be king, why had he bothered to spare me? It would have been much easier and far more advantageous for him had I died. Could his love for me be that strong? If so, how could I ever ever betray him?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  "What will you do now?” I asked, watching from my rumpled lovenest as Ginger dressed.

  He sat down on the bed and pulled on his boots. “Fall back. Regroup. Start over. Once Repachea and Castarr arrive we'll have ourselves a big, noisy brawl and decide where to go from there."

  The light of day seemed to have restored his faith, or perhaps it was the magic of the night. His mood had improved considerably. I stretched and yawned. “When will that be?"

  "Soon. Tomorrow maybe. Why so curious?"

  "No reason. I just want to be kept informed ... so I can prevent you from doing something foolish."

  He leaned across the bed, lifted my hand and kissed it. “Too late to prevent foolishness now, precious.” His eyes glittered, new desire rising up from their cold depths.

  I pushed him away and sprawled my most charming sprawl. “Foolishness, you call it. I'll remember that the next time you feel the urge for a bout of foolishness. I may be feeling wise."

  It was not so smart to tease Ginger, even in play, now that his long dead ardour had been reborn. His eyes narrowed, ensnaring me in their feral stare. His arm snaked out with lightning speed and curled around my waist, crushing me against him.

  "Don't test me, Ruvie. I would stay here and torture you silly with pleasure all day if I could."

  With that, he took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply, longingly. Then he strode from the room, leaving me amid the twisted linens, feeling sweetly abandoned.

  * * * *

  The door opened behind me and I recognized Sestus's purposeful step. “Come in, come in,” I piped, almost singing in all my glee.

  He shut the door with a heavy hand. “It's true, then? You and Ginger?"

  I turned from the windowsill and the growth of greenery crowding its ledge, to whirl about my tiny quarters, smiling ear to ear. “Is it so obvious?"

  "Obvious? A blind man could see it,” he snapped, slumping into a chair. “Ginger's going around grinning like an idiot and now I find you dancing a fairy waltz. I put two and two together. This is disastrous. Do you know what you've done?"

  I glided toward him on toes ten feet off the ground and fell to my knees before him. “Yes, yes, yes, I know! Oh, Sestus. I feel so alive. So free. Like a young girl again. I love him, Sestus. I love Ginger. I want to shout it to the world!"

  "I'm truly happy for you,” he muttered, frowning in disapproval. “Only last month you loved Valleri."

  Not even the mention of my old lover could dampen my mood. I placed a potted fern in his lap, its bright green fronds reaching for Sestus's beard. “Not so. He lost my love the moment he betrayed me."

  "You're fickle,” he pronounced, which was a nice way of saying I behaved like a shameless strumpet. “And what am I supposed to do with this thing?"

  "Talk to it. It likes that.” Back to the matter at hand. “I am not fickle. Valleri was dashing and handsome and exciting. I was in such awe of him. I loved him with the innocence and blind worship every young maiden feels for her very first love."

  "Or two or three,” he grumbled.

  "What I feel for Ginger is deeper, stronger. It will burn inside me forever.” I gazed into his stern face. “How can I explain it, Sestus? I would die for this man."

  "When Ginger learns he bedded the Gryphon Highlord you may very well die.” He spoke directly to the plant, which seemed to perk up at the promise of gossip.

  I straightened, my jubilance departing. “You have to spoil this for me, don't you? You just can't allow me to enjoy the moment."

  "Kathedra ... damn, I mean Ruvie, you're going to break his heart."

  "He'll get over it,” I growled, turning my back to him so he would not see my quivering lips.

  "He didn't get over Nelia."

  "That's different. She died."

  "It's not so different. When Kathedra is revealed, Ruvie will die ... at least to Ginger she will. He won't forgive you this deceit, this betrayal. If you ever had a chance to win his support and trust you've destroyed it."

  "Destroyed it how? I took an enemy and made him my friend."

  "You took an enemy and made him your lover. You might discover there is no difference between the two once crossed. You have only to examine your feelings for Valleri to know that is true."

  Sestus was right, of course. If I could not forgive Valleri, how could I expect Ginger to forgive me?

  I drew a deep breath, determined to ignore Ginger until forced to make the inevitable confrontation. I snatched back the plant, stroked its delicate, feathery foliage. “So tell me. Who can I count on to support my bid for the throne?"

  Sestus seemed relieved by the change in topic. “Repachea. Belvemar. Gregaris could go either way but he's barricaded inside Pixley. Word can't get in or out, which is probably to your benefit. Naren and Castarr will oppose you. Vehemently, I think."

  "Counting you, that makes three. If Ginger gets stubborn and renounces me, at worse it will mean a stalemate."

  "Wrong. I don't count. Once the truth is known and my part in your deception revealed, I'll be denied a vote. Ginger will cast the deciding ballot, so to speak. Even if he can see past his anger to do what is best for both the Crusaders and Thylana, I can't promise his endorsement will hold sway with Naren and Castarr. They might say to hell with us and mutiny. If that happens, th
e revolt will die and you will never be queen."

  He shrugged at my wide-eyed horror. “That's the worst possible scenario, I concede. I warned you; there are no guarantees."

  "No guarantees,” I echoed, realizing the enormity of my mistake. I had knowingly, even willingly, risked Ginger's support. I had not stopped to think he might possess the power of life and death over me. How to undo the damage? I returned the fern to the company of its neighbours, the vigorous henbane and a pot of basil, destined for Biddy's herb bed.

  "When the others assemble for their meeting, send for me. I will announce my presence then."

  "What about Ginger? Shouldn't you break it to him first?"

  "No.” I was adamant on that point. “He will learn it with the others. If I tell him beforehand, it will only give him time to ripen his anger."

  "Can you be so cruel, Little Red?"

  "It's not cruelty. No one knows about Ginger and me save you. Let's keep it that way. It will spare him embarrassment, without compromising his position. I'm only thinking of what's best for him. I can't change last night."

  Even if I could, I wouldn't.

  * * * *

  Repachea arrived late that same night, rousing the camp with an ungodly clamour. Ginger jerked awake and leapt from the bed as if his tail were afire. “Get up,” he hissed, throwing clothes at me. “Get dressed."

  Still groggy, I stumbled around in near total darkness and fumbled into a shirt, only to have Ginger yank me out of it. “That's mine."

  Sleep and utter contentment had fuddled my senses. It did not seem so important to hide ourselves. With that thought I sagged back onto the bed and closed my eyes, uncaring of the boots that stormed up the stairs beyond the door.

  Ginger had worked himself into a lather. Half clad, he dragged me from the bed. “Dammit, get up."

  At that moment the door opened. Harsh light from outside torches spilled inside. It cast the intruder's form in shadow and prompted Ginger to pull me against him, hiding my nakedness.

  "Well, what do we have here?"

  It was Repachea.

  "It's not how it looks,” Ginger said.

  "Really?” Repachea stepped inside and closed the door. “Hell, Ginger,” he laughed. “Why so ashamed? I'd be shouting it in the streets. No need to hide her so. I've seen naked women before. Let her dress, then I'll turn up a lamp."

  As I struggled, now wide-awake, into my clothes, Ginger muttered a feeble apology. “Forgive me, Repachea. I shouldn't have used your quarters in this fashion. I didn't expect you until tomorrow."

  "I can see that,” Repachea quipped. “I'm quite unoffended. After all, I did expect to find a woman in my bed. You were the only surprise.” Amused, he clucked his tongue. “My, my, my. Ginger, you've shocked me. You've stolen her right out from under me. So to speak. I couldn't be prouder. Ruvie, are you dressed yet?"

  I managed an affirmative, mortified beyond intelligible speech. Repachea struck up the lamp, which gave me my first clear glimpse of him. Battered and bedraggled, he appeared in dire need of a bath. A shallow gash decorated his brow and a bloodstained bandage peeked through the tatters of a sleeve. He plopped into a chair and swung his legs onto the table, then favoured us with a sublime grin.

  "Well, kids? Is it true love or what?"

  Ginger found his shirt, donned it without a reply. I stood there, caught in Repachea's assessing gaze, and blushed. “Just foolishness,” I answered.

  "Ah, sweet folly,” Repachea sighed. “How I wish it were the same for me.” His expression clouded and his voice lowered to a whisper. “Oh, Ginger. It was a bloody horror. I can't describe it. I can't even talk about it. It's over. I agree with Castarr. We should quit. I can't watch any more of us die."

  "We're not beaten yet,” Ginger said.

  "What can we do? We can't muzzle a leak we can't find. The bastard feeds Valleri every delectable secret we have. Our plan of attack rested on three teleportals, not none."

  "You exaggerate. We can evacuate Idyll and pull Naren out of Shanasea. We'll find new havens and restructure. We can't give up, Repachea. Not now. Don't you want to avenge your dead?"

  "Of course I do,” Repachea snarled, fury smouldering in his eyes. “I want to tear out Valleri's black heart and shove it down Bertrand's throat."

  "Fine. I see you've already decided there's no turning back."

  Repachea shifted in his chair. “Yeah, I suppose you're right."

  I should have said something then. Indeed I'd opened my mouth, but Ginger's next words struck me dumb. “I promise you, Repachea, you will have your revenge. Our blades will taste of Valleri's blood. Bertrand's too. They will run blue with it. My only regret is they will not drink of Kathedra's."

  I cringed at Ginger's gruesome thirst for violence, his undead hatred for me. Is it yet possible my blood will colour his sword? Could he kill the woman he had loved only an hour ago?

  Yes, I believe he could.

  "Have you heard from Castarr?” Ginger asked.

  "He's right behind me. He'll be here tomorrow."

  The conversation drifted to the matter of the poisoner and Belvemar's condition as Ginger updated Repachea on all he'd missed. I wasn't listening. I sat on the bed, chewing a nail, wondering whether I should play the coward and steal a horse to ride away from Idyll, from Ginger, from the whole mess, straight to Zigores, Umagi sanctuary or not.

  A touch on my arm startled me almost out of my skin. Ginger's brow wrinkled. “What's the matter, Ruvie? You're trembling. Are you cold?"

  An icy chill swept up my spine as his fingers tightened around my arm. Though he held me with a lover's gentle hand, it was a hand that could just as easily turn into an enemy's. “Yes. A little."

  "Perhaps we should retire to my quarters and let Repachea get some rest."

  "No,” Repachea said, casting a dubious glance at his tousled bed. “You stay here. I'll take your quarters tonight. I should go greet Sestus, anyway."

  When Repachea had gone I crawled back beneath the sheet and curled into a ball, trying to get as far from Ginger as possible. But he snuggled closer and drew me into his arms. At first I shrank from him, stiff with revulsion, but he was tired and wanted nothing except to sleep. His hands were warm, and his body, pressed close to mine, sheltering. Despite my angst I melted into his embrace and fell into a tranquil slumber.

  * * * *

  The following day bustled with activity. The infirmary was a busy place, besieged with the survivors of Valleri's rampage. I was surprised to see Belvemar in the exercise yard, wielding a practice blade quite effectively against Repachea. Although Belvemar's leg made him slow and ungainly, his sword arm was in excellent shape. They sparred in vigorous but careful play until Biddy spoiled their sport by stomping onto the field and yelling like a shrew at Belvemar, “Cease your folly, you stubborn old mule!"

  Ginger sent a dispatch to Shanasea recalling Naren and his garrison. At noon Ragsey rode in on his roan, fresh from some nocturnal reconnaissance, and announced Castarr's party had been sighted.

  Castarr arrived at dusk with a beleaguered escort, having ridden hard day and night. I disliked the man immediately. He was about fortyish, of medium height and build. Unremarkable really, except for his dark, shifty eyes. Arrogant, obnoxious and coarse, he would cause me problems.

  The meeting was set for an hour later in the dungeon, giving Castarr time to eat and recover from his journey. They could not wait for Naren. I allowed what I presumed sufficient time for them to assemble, then threw on my cloak.

  Before setting out, however, I paused in the doorway, looking at that part of the keep that was just a dark and empty shell. A shiver of trepidation seized me then, though it had little to do about my coming confrontation with the outlaw leaders. There was a distinct and ominous presence to the night.

  Earlier, I had moved all my things, including my greenery, from Repachea's quarters to Ginger's. But I had forgotten the dagger that Sestus had given me upon my departure for Edenwood, which I had hidd
en in the niche beneath the bed. With a potential killer on the loose, I would feel safer with the blade's reassuring weight in my boot.

  I hurried across the compound and raced up the wooden steps leading to Repachea's hole in the wall. I had just reached the door when it suddenly burst open, slamming hard into my side and knocking me to the ground as a shadow flew past.

  I shook the stars from my eyes; the sound of retreating footfalls faded. “What the hell?” I moaned, struggling to my feet. But as I peered around the open door, the glow of a tipped candle provided the terrible answer.

  I ran inside to the man on the floor, his blood seeping between the boards. “Repachea,” I gasped. “Heavens above ... Repachea!"

  Falling to my knees I lifted his head into my lap. Fast flowing blood stained his chest where a blade had plunged into a lung. Miraculously, he still breathed.

  "Ginger!” I cried out the door. “Sestus! Anyone! Come quick!"

  Repachea opened his eyes, their sapphire depths aflood with pain, their sparkle failing as life ebbed away. They focused briefly, impaling me with a gaze that bore straight through my soul. He was dying, I realized, even as big salty tears spilled down my cheeks.

  "Who did this?” I whispered. “Who?"

  Sputtering and choking, he tried to tell me. But blood bubbled up in his mouth and with a great strangled groan, Repachea died, just as Ginger and a horde of people stormed into the room.

  "No!” I sobbed, falling across Repachea's lifeless body.

  I held him tight, heedless of the blood wetting my flesh, and wept for this man who only a few short hours ago frolicked on the practice field, whose marvellous blue eyes I would never see again, a man I would have moulded into one of my most loyal champions.

  Sestus collected his wits first. He knelt beside Repachea and felt for a pulse. “He's dead,” he pronounced.

  Instantly, a flurry of voices crowded into my head, hurling questions too garbled and frenzied to understand. I wept harder, trying to out drown their racket, still clinging to Repachea's warm corpse. Then a man's rough hands took my shoulders and dragged me to my feet, shaking me until I thought my skull would split.