42. Onora
Chapter 42
Onora
M elina had been practically a celebrity amongst the Hunters for a while now. The woman who people had thought was kidnapped by a demon, only for her to insist she wasn’t, become pregnant with his baby, and be protected by the elves. Onora had expected someone different. Not this gentle, sweet creature.
It made sense, though. Kaemon was just as sweet. They matched each other well, and as they talked while Melina helped her get her clothes sorted out, it became harder and harder for her to believe it was merely some demonic enchantment that had brought them together. Perhaps initially, but from what she’d seen of Kaemon on their travels, and what she now saw of Melina, they seemed to just ... fit. Like a key and lock. Perfect.
Talin and Melina conferred on designs for Onora’s clothing, and she watched in wonder as they sketched and drew up designs she’d never dreamed of. Most were simple, but with some small flare.
Talin pursed his lips. “She’ll need fighting leathers, but those take a moment.”
Melina nodded. “Give her some pants that are not so loose—she’ll trip if she’s training. Also, I’m taking her to the stables after this. She needs something darker and more practical.”
“I see, I see.”
“Also, the rites are coming up—have you drafted any outfits that would fit her for that?”
Onora watched in surprise as both of them went back and forth, showing sketches, modifying, holding up scraps of cloth against her face and body and showing her the ideas for her approval. She had to admit, Melina had a much better sense of what she would like, and while Onora had never bothered with fashion, she found herself excited about the small details Melina added.
“Your jacket should have a gold bar over the breast to denote your rank,” Melina said.
Onora swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not so sure I hold that rank anymore.”
Talin tsked. “Lord Dryston will certainly appoint you to a similar rank here, I’m sure.”
“Oh. I don’t think I’ll be here that long.”
Talin frowned. “But, my dear, where will you go? Dryston can’t leave us. We need him as a leader. And you will be a fine leader beside him. You have that fire in you.”
“Oh, it’s not like that between us.” Her cheeks warmed at the thought.
“But you’re in the room adjoining his.”
So that was a big deal. Why? She couldn’t tell. It looked like an additional room in a home, nothing too crazy, and she was too afraid to ask why everyone was having this reaction.
Melina looked at Talin and shook her head, and Talin and his assistant pursed their lips, a knowing look passing between them all.
Melina cleared her throat. “Talin, do you have any close-fitting trousers she could borrow for today?”
“I have just the thing,” he said, going into the back room.
“Then we can go to the stables,” Melina said with a grin.
Onora stared in shock. She’d heard tales of gryphons many times before, come across illustrations and even saw one flying overhead once. They were said to be slightly untamable. Creatures full of their own will and only obeying whom they pleased.
They were gorgeous creatures, though. This one was jet black, with a face like a raven, its head tilting to the side as it blinked, taking her in. Wings with feathers that faded from black to blue ruffled behind her, her body lithe and graceful as a cat’s, with a long, deadly tail in the back.
“This one is feisty, Melina,” the animal handler, Halst, said, giving her a side eye. “Do you think Onora can handle her?”
Melina put her hand out, palm up, and the gryphon came forward, nudging the hand with her beak until Melina gave her scratches under her chin. The creature made soft cooing sounds, its leg twitching in delight.
Halst chuckled. “You certainly have a way with them.”
Melina smiled. “Onyx will love Onora. I can feel it.”
She beckoned for Onora to come forward, and she did, placing her hand out too, palm up. Onyx tilted her head, giving Onora a wary look, then a questioning one to Melina.
“She’s friendly,” Melina said, and it didn’t sound like a lie, even if Onora knew she’d never been described that way before.
Onyx came forward, tilting its head, examining her hand, then sniffing it. Halst plopped nuts in her hand and Onyx immediately picked them up, tilting its head back and chomping it down. Then she looked at Onora, cooing happily, and knelt.
“She wants you to get on her,” Melina said.
Onora stared at the creature, who blinked its big eyes at her. Her hand trembled at the thought of sitting on its back and flying, but she wouldn’t let Onyx see that, so she stepped up, placing her booted foot into the stirrup and swinging her other leg over. Halst came up, and she grabbed straps on either side of the saddle and showed Onora how to buckle herself in.
“Have you ridden a horse before?” Halst asked.
“Yes.”
“Same idea, but gryphons like to be asked more nicely.”
Then Halst gave a gentle slap on the gryphon’s rump and Onyx made a loud caw, jumping into the sky. Onora swallowed down the scream that rose in her throat, falling away with the roar of wind that whipped around her as they launched into the sky. In moments, two other gryphons were next to her, and they all came to a cruising height, the gryphons leveling out.
Onyx’s wings flapped gently next to her and the gryphon tilted her head back, cooing reassuringly at Onora.
“She does like you!” Halst called out, laughing.
“I told you!” Melina said, throwing her head back, closing her eyes against the wind as it carried her long, wavy locks trailing behind her like a flag. She grinned at Onora, and Onora found herself grinning back.
They flew for close to an hour, over mountains and forests and rivers and fields. The Shadow Realm was a sight to behold. Winter was just creeping along the land, frost freezing over the gem-colored greens and reds, sapphires and purples of the foliage, crusting them like diamonds and twinkling in the sunlight.
Halst pointed to a lake that was as blue as the sky and Melina nodded, whistling as they dipped down. Onyx perked up at the sound, then dipped, twirling and bringing her wings in, and Onora had to swallow another scream. She thought she could hear a cooing that sounded distinctly like laughter as Onyx glanced back, blinking her amber eyes, mischief hiding there.
They landed gracefully, the descent soft and easy, and Onora sat in the saddle longer than necessary, breathing heavily and getting her bearings. Finally, she undid her restraints and jumped down. Onyx moved close, nudging her arm affectionately, and nestling against her face, making her laugh. Onyx cooed her laughing coo again and Onora petted her neck, giving her a hug, then turned to her companions.
“She was apologizing,” Melina said. “For scaring you.”
Onora thought to protest that she wasn’t scared, but what was the point? She had been.
Halst produced cheese and bread, and a skein of wine for them to share. They found a rock to sit on while their mounts splashed about in the cold water, playing with one another, then sunbathing to warm up.
“Has your family always raised gryphons?” Onora asked Halst.
Halst shook her head. “My parents were in the royal guard. I started a while ago. Enid saved a bunch of them from a cruel farm and brought them here. They were unruly and untrusting and aggressive when I first started with them.”
“Was that hard to train out of them?”
Halst took her hand, palm out flat, and shifted it—so-so. “They were pretty broken. Many said it would be kinder to let them go, but they would be killed by ranchers for attacking livestock. The other option was to kill them, and let them finally get rest. I didn’t like either of those options, so I asked Dryston to let me have some stables, supplies, and a year to make them better. He agreed. He also didn’t want them to die. His mother loved gryphons.”
“What made you want to put all that work in?”
“They weren’t bad, they were just broken and needed healing. I was the same. My parents and colony had been killed by the Cruel Lord and I had been made a servant of his. He was horrible. I spent so many years just trying to survive that when he was gone and Dryston’s father was the Lord of Shadows, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I still worked for him, but I felt restless. So the gryphons came along and they needed rescuing. And, well, so did I. I think they did the real miracle work. I just made them feel safe enough to be kind again. They made me feel alive again.”
Onora was silent, absorbing what she said, seeing the truth of her words in her eyes. Onora had always looked in the mirror and seen her old wounds staring back at her. Ones that wouldn’t heal, that just kept oozing and bleeding. How could anyone recover from that much loss and abuse?
But she could see the healing in Halst’s eyes. In Melina’s, too. The past was not erased—it never could be. But the wounds were healed and in their place was just a scar. No pain, no turmoil. Healed—despite the proof of the horrors.
“You’re a Hunter?” Halst stated more than asked.
“I was,” Onora said. “I don’t think I have a place there anymore.”
“The Cruel Lord did terrible things to the humans of Nemus.”
Onora took a swig of the wine. “He did indeed.”
“If you don’t have a place there anymore, you do here. I hope you know that. I know Makel has a sharp tongue, but most demons don’t see you like she does.”
Onora drew in a deep breath. Was that true?
“Do all demons know each other’s business?”
Halst and Melina shared a glance, laughing.
“Yes,” Halst said as they both nodded. “Unfortunately, we do. But it’s also why we have so much respect for Hunters. Many demons suffered at the hands of the Cruel Lord. We know why Hunters came to be, and we have nothing but respect for them for fighting back. Your people helped us here, though you may not know it. The fight in Nemus, coupled with the demons fighting him here, split the effort and kept him from being able to take over any one place quickly.”
Onora had never thought of it that way before. For the first time, looking at a demon, she didn’t see someone that was so different from her. She saw a kindred soul looking back. A sister in spirit.
Perhaps, then, she and Dryston were not so different, either.
It was late when Onora returned to her room that night, having spent the rest of the evening in the stables with the two females, learning about gryphon handling from them, and just spending time with Onyx to bond. She found herself excited for tomorrow when she could go back and feed and care for the gryphon again, and perhaps talk to Halst more. She hoped to see more of Melina, but she didn’t want to bother her too much.
Onora’s door had a magic lock on it, one that Dryston had swiftly and perfunctorily tied to her handprint that morning. She ripped her gloves off, placing her hand over the smooth stone ball, covered in runes, next to the door. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open of its own accord.
Onora wasn’t certain she’d ever get used to the common use of magic like that.
“You’re out late.”
She jumped, grabbing her heart and turning to see Dryston leaning against his open doorway. Shirtless. Gray night pants hugging him in a lewd way that made her shoot him a glare.
“Don’t scare me like that,” she said.
He threw his hands up. “Sorry! Didn’t realize I was sneaking up on you. Did you have fun with Melina?”
She nodded, her cheeks flushing. Feelings stirred in her like a child, happy to make friends—feeling welcome. Being a Hunter, she’d developed a deep relationship with her squad. They were closer than a family in many ways, and she missed them terribly. But she’d never had to just make friends. The few times she’d had the opportunity, she’d done a shit job of it. Prickly, aggressive, mean, rude—people had a variety of words to lob at her and she supposed they were right. Even if she didn’t always mean to be that way, it still came out that way.
But with Melina and Halst, it felt like second nature.
“Melina is kind—so is Halst.” She didn’t know what else to say, and she suddenly felt shy and tongue-tied around him. She didn’t want to snipe at him all the time or be mean and rude. But that was their relationship, and she didn’t know what to do about it. They stood in silence for a moment and she racked her brain for anything to say to him.
She came up with nothing.
“Want some tea?” he asked, sticking his thumb over his shoulder to his room.
She nodded. He already had tea going, two mugs set out, and she wondered if he’d been waiting on someone else. But no one else showed up as they sat on the couch and she recounted her day to him, wanting to spill every event, but holding back because she wasn’t used to having anyone this interested in the small details. But he listened, attentive, asking more and more questions, as if he just wanted her to keep talking.
When she finished, he stood and went to the dresser, taking a cloth case and bringing it over, handing it to her.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“A gift,” he said, shrugging like it was nothing. “I found it in the market and thought you’d like it.”
She untied the flaps and opened them, revealing a set of beautiful daggers. A sapphire set into the hilt, and she ran her hands over the lava stone, then the blade. It was fine craftsmanship—some of the best she’d ever seen and certainly better than anything she’d ever owned.
“This must have cost a fortune,” she muttered.
He took a sip, shrugging again. “It was nothing.”
“I can’t accept this,” she said.
“This is hardly the most expensive thing I’ve bought you.”
He said it with a touch of pride, and she drew in a deep breath, holding the daggers out to him.
“I have my own on me. I can’t afford these, and I don’t want you buying me anything else.”
She already owed him a fortune. Maybe he was so wealthy he didn’t notice, but she knew the price of things—knew how extravagant gifts often accompanied expectations. What did he expect of her?
He gently pushed them back to her.
“Keep them,” he growled.
Heat coiled in her lower belly at the command, and she pulled them back onto her lap.
“No more gifts,” she said.
He smiled, taking another sip. “I make no promises.”
“Why do you want to give me so many gifts, anyway? Don’t you have someone better to give them to?”
“Who better than someone in need?”
“So I’m a charity case?”
“I ... no, that’s not what I meant.”
She crossed her arms. “Are you trying to ingratiate me? Trying to lull me into some stupor so that I’ll be compliant?”
Her chest tightened, her rage building again.
“Godsdamnit, Onora, no. No!” He rubbed his face. “I just want to do something nice for you. I care about you. Can I not do something nice for someone I care about?”
Her cheeks heated, and she blinked, staring blankly, unsure of what to say or do. He cared for her? She had thought at best he held a lusty regard for her, maybe some sort of camaraderie, but care ?
She didn’t know what to say. Brayden had once told her he loved her. It had been a lie, and she’d laughed and he’d never forgiven her—for calling him on it. He’d wanted to manipulate her with it.
But she couldn’t see Dryston’s angle here. They weren’t fucking. Or they hadn’t since those two nights, and Dryston was making no move to repeat it. She couldn’t get or give him anything. He was just buying her shit. Making her tea. Asking about her day and being kind.
What the fuck was he playing at?
He cared about her?
Jackson cared about her. So did Andrea, Avery, and Jin. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised. They had been through a lot, her and Dryston. They’d bonded like warriors did—in the fight to survive.
She swallowed, running her hand over the dagger again, not making eye contact. “Thank you.”
“No thanks is needed.”
“I want to repay you?—”
“It’s. A. Gift .”
She shot him a glare. “I want to repay you in some way. Not with money, per se. I just—” She didn’t know what to say, and she threw her hands up. “What in the darkest pit am I supposed to do now? I have no job, I have no way of taking care of myself. No home?—”
“Stay here,” he said, soft, tentative. He followed it with another shrug, and she didn’t know if he meant it or if he had only said it to assuage her ramblings.
“What would I do here?”
“Join the guard. Train gryphons. Skulk in the shadows, hissing at people I despise?—”
“Be serious.”
“I am. You can be so frightening, and I have a few people in mind.”
She crossed her arms, and he laughed.
“Really. You’d be good in the royal guard.”
She drew in a deep breath, unsure if he was being serious or placating and too tired to argue more. So she changed the subject, asking him about his day and hearing a great deal about Emilia. Eventually she started nodding off and she must have fallen asleep, because she felt him pick her up, shushing her back to sleep, then felt the covers tucked in around her chin, warm and comforting.