by Ivy Asher
Fuck.
Where the gleaming metal of a sword blade should exist, it looks more like interconnecting vertebrae. Only instead of bones making up the unusual spine-like appearance, sharp pieces of metal interlock with each other. I flick my wrist, testing out the weird weapon, and the metal pieces suddenly move like a whip. Shock punches through me when my innocuous wrist flick sends the blade pieces snapping out and burying themselves in Cree’s descending arm.
She screams and instantaneously yanks her hand back, and the weird whip-sword blades dig into her flesh even deeper. Astonished, I’m still holding on to the handles as the blades of the whip grow taught from her reeling back, and I’m suddenly flung to the side and then up into the air. The handles of the weapons are wrenched from my grip, and I immediately release my hold on our body so that Pigeon can once again come surging forward.
She bends us and flips us midair, using our aching wings to right our trajectory so we’re no longer flying away but barreling right for Cree again. Her arm is mangled and bleeding, and she clutches it closely to her chest as we charge into her with all our might.
A large crack bounces off the walls of the pit as our massive feather- and fur-covered bodies collide, and Pigeon snaps out and digs her sharp beak into Cree’s shoulder. Momentum has us both ping-ponging off the pit wall, and we’re all claws, snarls, and hooked beaks as we tear at each other.
Somehow Cree gets us on our back, and as she snaps for our face, I feel Pigeon recede again.
“Fuck!” I scream, not ready for her to hand me back the reins, so I try to make the whip swords appear in my hand again. They don’t. Instead, I get some Chronicles of Riddick shit that pops up in my hands, and I find myself squeezing two black grips with blades that curve around my knuckles like back-to-back Js.
Cree’s beak snaps out at my face, and on pure instinct, I shove my blade-covered fists out, the sharp black blades instantly connecting with her neck. Cree freezes, her gryphon face less than six inches from mine. My blades are buried in the feathers of her neck, warm blood now dripping down my fists.
We’re both panting and unmoving, as though someone hit pause on the battle and we’re waiting for them to hit play again. I’m completely surprised that Cree doesn’t just close the distance and rip my face off. I’m pretty sure she’d kill me before my blades could slice her head off, but maybe they’re sharper than I realized.
A familiar chuffing noise creeps out of Cree’s maw, and I realize that everyone around us is completely silent. No one is cheering or jeering. It’s as though they’re just as shocked by what’s happening as Cree and I are.
Cree steps back, and Pigeon and I tense, ready for her next attack. It doesn’t come. Only more of that gryphon giggle fills the pit as Cree distances herself from us, slowly loping toward her scattered pile of clothing and armor. I scamper as far away from the foggy-colored gryphon as I can. I move away until the side of the pit caresses the naked skin of my back. My Nike Swoosh shaped blades are still clutched in my hands, mostly because I have no idea how to get rid of them or really why I even have them in the first place. I watch Cree through suspicion-laced blinks and heavy breaths, feeling like this is somehow just another one of her tricks.
Her gryphon folds in on itself until Cree is all that remains, as naked as I am and surprisingly battered. Blood trickles down her throat, her shoulder, her back, her thigh. Her arm is fucked up, and I’m stunned to see the wounds of her gryphon have manifested on her body too. Pigeon’s pain and injuries always feel separate from mine, with the exception of our wings. Not taking my eyes off of Cree for a second, I run my fingers over my shoulder where I know she did her best to rip it apart, but there’s just smooth skin.
I can feel Pigeon hurting inside of me, and yet I bear no marks of what we just endured. I need to ask Wekun if that’s normal. I tense as two burly guard-looking guys jump into the pit and saunter over to Cree. She chuckles and bats at their hands as they wipe blood from her body and press their hands against her wounds. Not guards, I tell myself as I watch the exchange, healers. I’m reminded of the healer that Treno brought to me in Kestrel, and I find myself completely fascinated as I watch her injuries knit back together simply from the touch of these two males.
I flinch, and my attention is yanked away as a gargantuan body slams down to the earth next to me, and I look over to find an enraged Zeph ripping his shirt off and stepping in front of me. Ryn lands on my other side, and I feel Treno pound to the ground behind me.
Zeph fits the neck of his tunic over my head and threads my hands through the too long sleeves like I’m some inept toddler incapable of dressing myself. His touch is surprisingly gentle, but he doesn’t say anything as he works to cover me up. He doesn’t have to; the rage coating his countenance says quite enough. He’s fucking pissed.
The two healers finish up with a smiling Cree and turn in my direction. Zeph, Ryn, and Treno all tense, but shockingly they stay quiet. A large muscled arm snakes around my shoulders and chest, and I’m carefully pulled back against Treno. I’m so shocked by the possessive display, but there’s no time to really say anything before the two healers are standing in front of me.
Their eyes scan my body, and I see a flicker of surprise in both of their gazes when they don’t find me in a worse off state than Cree. “You’re not hurt?” one of them asks, lifting the hem of the tunic like he expects to find it hiding copious amounts of blood and gore. Ryn’s hand shoots out and clutches the male by the wrist, a low warning growl reverberating out of his throat.
“My gryphon is hurting more than I am,” I interject as the healer’s eyes narrow on Ryn. “I’m not sure if you can do anything about that.”
He refocuses his attention back on me and nods. “Where?” he asks, his periwinkle gaze roaming over my face.
“Do you need her to come out so you can see?” I ask, unsure how this works exactly. I sort of passed out the first and only time I came in contact with a healer in Kestrel City.
“No, we can reach her through you, but if you tell us where she’s suffering the most, that’s where we’ll concentrate our ability,” he explains.
I look back and forth between the two and realize they must be related. They have different shades of golden blond hair, one slightly darker than the other, but they have the same nose and the same blue-purple toned eyes.
“Our wings, her back, her hips, and her neck. I think she got whiplash from a couple of those swipes to the head,” I confess.
Treno’s arm tightens slightly around me, and the healing brothers both nod and step closer to me. One of them presses his palms to the sides of my neck while the other lifts Zeph’s shirt and snakes his hand up my back from the bottom. Treno doesn’t move away from me, and the healer has to wedge his hand between my back and Treno’s front.
It’s awkward as hell, but I keep my mouth shut, as everyone around me is feeling entirely too volatile, and I am not going to be in the middle of this shit show if it blows up. Out of nowhere, heat from the healers’ touch slowly builds and then gently pushes into me. I gasp at the sensation of their magic stretching out inside of me, and Pigeon unfurls as the warm tendrils reach her and start to do their thing.
Smoky billows of healing magic move through my chest, and I almost feel high from the sensation of all my minor aches and pains being wiped away alongside Pigeon’s wounds. My head lolls back against Treno’s chest, and every muscle in my body relaxes. It’s like this shit takes care of emotional wounds in addition to the physical ones.
“Damn, that’s some good shit,” I mumble, and one of the healing brothers chuckles.
Pigeon and I both feel all floaty and warm as a thumb grazes my jaw. I focus on the touch and stare right into a pair of periwinkle-colored eyes. The brother with the lighter golden blond hair gives me an inviting smile, and I return it without any thought as to what I’m doing.
Pigeon perks up in that way that I’ve learned to be very wary of, and it snaps me out of my floaty haze. I immed
iately sober and shoot her a glare.
“Don’t even think about it,” I snap at her.
She flashes me an image of the brothers and how she feels high as fuck, but I shake my head at her. “We’ve collected enough fucking trouble as it is,” I remind her, and she gets all pouty but thankfully doesn’t argue.
A large hand trails down my spine, and fingertips skim the side of my ass cheek, as the other healing brother pulls his arm out of my shirt. Another warning growl sounds off from behind me, and both Zeph and Ryn quickly join in. If I weren’t so shocked by the show of solidarity between the three of them, I’d tell them to cut it out.
The healing brothers step away, and one of them shoots me a wink that earns him a snarl in triplicate. He doesn’t seem bothered by the reaction of the big scary males surrounding me, which makes me question his sanity, because Ryn, Zeph, and Treno really aren’t the kind of males anyone should want to fuck with.
Zeph and Ryn both step in front of me, not blocking my view, but more taking up a protective stance. The level of menace seeping off of them makes the hair on my arms stand on end, and I’m grateful for once not to have that shit aimed at me.
Cree is completely dressed again, and she walks to the middle of the pit and raises her arms as though to silence the watching crowd. The only thing is, they’re all already quiet. You could hear a feather fall in this place.
She smiles, and the appearance of it makes her whole face light up in this genuine and beautiful way. “She’s worthy,” she announces quietly, and the emotion that pours into those words takes my breath away. Cree pauses like she needs a moment to gain control of the flood of feelings flowing through her. “We have waited for so long…” she starts again, her eyes shimmering with unshed hope, “and now it’s time.”
The roar of approval that bellows out of all the gryphons surrounding us shocks me. Wekun explained that the gryphons here were exiled for one reason or another, and I’m completely taken aback by the longing and determination I feel all around me, to take back what was taken from them. I look around, and for the first time, I don’t see a fragile and wilted people, I see belief and fortitude.
It fills me to the brim with conviction and hope. Now all I need to do is find the words to break the Vow.
15
“So I said to him, I wish you could use the sword between your thighs as well as the one in your hand.”
Raucous laughter shoots up all around me, and Cree downs her drink and wipes her mouth as her tankard plops back down to the table.
“And that’s how I got this scar,” she states, pointing to the nick in her ear.
I give a small chuckle and take a tentative sip of my own drink. It’s mead, which should make me happy, but I find myself drifting off to thoughts that just don’t support frivolous joy at the moment. Maybe I’ve reached the sad-drunk portion of the night, or maybe there’s just too much going on for me to really let go. Plus, Wekun was right, Cree can talk about her scars like Bubba Gump talks about shrimp.
They’re all entertaining stories, and it seems everyone around us has their favorite they like her to tell, but my heart isn’t into the carefree night it seems Cree and her people are up for. I’m happy to say that after the fight, Cree seems more normal and less “covetous bitch.”
I must have passed all her tests, because she’s been nothing but welcome and kind since we all traipsed in here to indulge in some day drinking. The sun has long since tucked itself into bed though, and I keep thinking about my dad and everything he told me the other night when my marks returned. His sad eyes and strong hug haunt me tonight. I can’t help feeling like time is running out and I’m still trying to put everything together.
I take another sip of my drink and force a smile as more laughter titters around me. I pretend like I’m participating in the girl chat, but I’m far away in Vedan, and in Colorado, trying to remember the things my dad taught me. I keep expecting the words to tumble out of my mind like a long-lost key clanging to the ground and making its presence known, but nothing happens. He said I already knew; the problem is I can’t remember.
Maybe when I’m done here, Wekun can try to hypnotize me or something, because the answers are in my head, I just need to shake them out somehow. I look up, feeling bad that he wasn’t allowed to join in on the fun. I tried to vouch for him, but it’s clear the gryphons aren’t a fan. I thought that maybe they take issue with the kind of magic he has, but Bond magic is laced in my blood too, and here I am. Guess it still is a Gryphon versus the Ouphe thing, even if the camps here are reliant on each other. That appears to be a begrudging thing they all try to ignore.
Someone else is telling a story now, but I can’t focus on it. I can feel Zeph’s, Treno’s, and Ryn’s eyes weighing me down, and their presence makes everything feel even more complicated. I’ve been ignoring them all night. Wisely, they haven’t approached me, but the stage five clinger alert is fucking strong.
I try to push thoughts of them out of my mind for the thousandth time tonight. There’s no amount of alcohol that will help me untangle the mess between us; I just wish my body and mind could come to some sort of agreement on that. It also doesn’t help that Pigeon is once again in a forgiving mood. Shit is so much easier for me when she hates them too.
The intense need to pee suddenly takes over my senses. I quickly chug down the rest of my drink so my relieving my bladder doesn’t completely fuck with my buzz, and focus on trying to get my fizzy body to whatever bucket around here has been designated as a bathroom.
I push away from the table, and Cree looks over at me expectantly.
“I need to piss like a racehorse,” I announce, and she smiles, confusion sparkling in her glassy gaze.
Shit, they don’t know what horses are, I realize.
“It’s an animal we have where I’m from. They have four legs, long noses and they run really fast,” I quickly explain. I take my index and middle finger and crisscross them quickly as I try to explain that they run. I then make my hand rear up and release a neigh, which for some reason, makes all the females sitting at the table with me crack up, like I just told the best joke.
I shrug and chuckle, their mirth a little contagious, and then my bladder gets all threatening, and I quickly make my way out of the tent that serves as this place’s bar, in search of a tent or bush I can piss in.
Bush it is, I decide as I stumble behind the bar tent into the night in search of a good place to do my thing. I spot one of those weird looking crystal trees and stomp over to it, unlacing my pants and crouching down, the trunk hiding me from view. My mind wanders as I water the vegetation, listening to the sounds of the night all around me as my head swims.
I give myself time to drip dry and tilt my head back to the sky. “That group of stars kind of looks like a broken wing,” I point out to Pigeon, but she’s three sheets to the wind and is currently trying—and failing—to pin down her own tail.
“I always thought it looked more like a Thais Fairy,” Ryn announces from somewhere behind me, and I jump at the sound of his voice and almost land my ass in my own puddle. I manage to grab onto the tree trunk and save myself, but it was a close fucking call.
“You need a bell,” I grumble as I pull up my pants, glaring at him over my shoulder as I move to the other side of the tree.
“You need to be more careful, two other males followed you out here,” he tells me.
I gasp dramatically. “Oh no, not two males.” Rolling my eyes, I huff out a breath. “Maybe they had to pee too, Ryn,” I defend, leaning back against the crystal trunk of the tree so my swaying body can settle before I try to make my way back to my tent.
Ryn moves closer. “Or maybe they wanted to mess with things that don’t belong to them,” he counters quietly, reaching out to capture a lock of my white hair between his fingers.
“Oh, so I’m a thing now?” I snark, batting his hand away from me. I push away from the tree trunk, shaking my head. “Doesn’t matter, call me whatever you
want. I don’t belong to you,” I tell him, ducking between him and the tree.
He puts an arm out and stops my escape.
“We belong to each other, Falon,” he declares, stepping even closer to me. “That’s what happens when you’re mated.”
He brushes hair off my shoulder, and I have to stop myself from leaning into him.
I snort. “Mated?” I question. “We fucked and somehow we’re tied together, but we’re not mates, Ryn. Not in the way that word is supposed to define a relationship. There’s nothing sacred or special between us. We’re strangers, ones that don’t even like each other.”
The crystalized bark of the tree digs into my back as Ryn flattens his body against mine. My breasts are pressed tightly against his muscular chest, and his leg settles between mine. He runs his fingers down my hair, and I despise that I don’t want him to stop. I should push him away, crush his effort the same way he’s pulverized my trust. I should leave him hurt and wanting, the way he and the others have left me too many times. The only problem is...I don’t want him to leave. I want him to show me why fate has kept us locked together. I want him to prove why I shouldn’t break the bond.
My mind and body war with what I want versus what I deserve, and I’m lost to the confusion of the battle. He feels good against me. He feels right. And in a world and time where everything is so wrong and uncertain, I need this.
“We started off badly, there’s no denying that, but it doesn’t change what you are to me, Falon. I know I hurt you, but if you’ll stop running from me, I can show you how I can make it better. I can do things the way I should have done them from the beginning. I can show you why we’re right for each other. Don’t you want that?” he asks me, his lips so close that I can taste his desire. “We don’t have to be strangers if you’ll just accept me.”
Ryn’s tone is molten and pleading, and I hear a hint of sorrow laced with the heat and the hunger.