Chapter 56 Tears And Blood
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
TEARS AND BLOOD
ADELINE
“Please.” I hold the egg higher. “I don’t want to drop this.”
“You are a horrible creature,” she screeches.
“Aline,” Roane mutters at my back. “Careful what you say. Some diplomacy, perhaps?”
I sigh. “Kind griffin mother, I won’t drop your egg if you could only reply to a question we have. May we head over to your nest to converse?”
“So you can steal more eggs?” she screeches.
“Valid question,” Roane rumbles. “Once a thief, always a thief.”
“May I remind you that you grabbed me first?” I call out to the griffin, elbowing Roane to make him shut up. “I only took the egg to defend myself. I swear I won’t touch anything in your nest. I have no use for your egg. I only need to dip into your vast knowledge for an answer.”
“Better,” Roane says.
I shouldn’t care for his approval, for the lazy drawl in his deep voice, the note of mirth that caresses me like a touch. He said he doesn’t like me.
Remember that.
“Fine,” the griffin says. “Come to my nest, nasty thief.”
“Simu,” Roane growls, “follow the griffin.”
It’s a tricky thing, what we’re attempting to do. The griffin slips into her nest with practiced ease, gathering her wings and using her lion hindlegs to push herself deeper.
We don’t have such advantages. Simu flies us to the entrance and Roane clambers onto the ledge, reaching back for me. Quickly, I place the egg back in its sling and quell my fear.
Damn. Height may not scare me overmuch, but it will never be my friend. Pressing my lips together, making sure not to look down, I grab Roane’s hand and only let out a small, thin cry when he swings me up into the cave.
I’m not superhuman. And I’m not fae, with their superior strength and reflexes. I’m quite proud of myself right now.
And pissing myself with terror, but let’s ignore that.
Panting, I kneel on the cave’s hard floor, Roane’s hand gripping my shoulder, and the firebird flies away, a flash of fire against the sky. Hopefully not too far away, for the very probable case in which we’ll need to make another hasty exit.
Patting the egg in the sling, sending a quick prayer to the Sleeping Gods that it hasn’t cracked, I open my mouth.
The griffin turns and suddenly its eagle head with its fearsome beak is right in my face. “The egg,” she demands.
“Answers first,” I croak.
She’s eyeing the egg and I don’t know if I can trust her not to cleave me in two, now we’re already in her nest, and grab her baby. In her shoes, I’d do it.
But she pulls back. “Ask, then. What do you wish to know?”
“I was wondering—”
“Fuck,” Roane says.
“What is it?” I ask as a fine tremor goes through the cave. Shit. Quake. Not the best place to be if the rock starts crumbling. “Roane—”
He gets up—then drops to one knee, blinking. His face has gone gray. “What the fuck is…? I can’t…”
“Roane! What’s wrong?”
“Poison,” the griffin says. “I can smell it on him. Hydra venom.”
Hydra. The fight in the river. He said he hadn’t been hurt.
Gods, he lied. Again. And I can’t even muster any anger, all the space in my head taken up by worry and fear as he falls back on his ass and sprawls, his head hitting the nest piled with eggs.
“That’s where you found the hydra poison you killed the metal birds with. I should have guessed, though, how did you know the story?” I crawl over to him. “Where? Where is the wound?”
His hand trails over his hip and cursing inwardly, I unlace his pants with shaky fingers and pull them down.
The wound is a deep cut, its edges dark. His flesh is hot there, but otherwise his skin is cold and clammy.
“Will the venom antidote be enough?” I whisper to myself. “Or is there an infection, too? It doesn’t look good.”
“The egg,” the griffin hisses. “Give it to me.”
“Wait… wait. How can I cure him?”
“Is that your question?”
“Aline,” Roane breathes. “No…”
“Is that your question, human?” The griffin insists. “Is that what you want in exchange for my egg, you nasty little thief?”
Suddenly, there is no doubt in my mind. “Yes. Yes! How do I cure him? Venom, infection and all. Tell me.”
“Put the egg down in front of you,” the griffin says, “and I will tell you.”
“Aline,” Roane breathes, “don’t. It won’t help. This isn’t the solution.”
But he looks like he’s standing on death’s doorstep and I’m not letting him cross over. He may not want me around, but I care for him, helpless to erase my feelings.
Sitting back on my heels, I take the egg out of the sling. Heavy. Whole. Perfect. I place it carefully in front of me, between the griffin and myself.
Gods, am I making a mistake? Will she kick me out of the nest and not answer? Keep Roane to eat as supper?
“Probably,” Olm says. “You’re a crazy girl. I wish I’d known that before deciding to go with you.”
I don’t have the mind space to unpack his statement and give it the answer it deserves.
Bile rises in my throat as I wait for the griffin to make her move. I’m showing trust.
After I stole her egg.
After she kidnapped me.
She obviously doesn’t see it that way. I force myself to show no fear, even as Roane lets out a broken moan, shifting on the ground, hands clenching.
“Now tell me.” I wince when my voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “Tell me what I need to do.”
She uses her beak to roll the egg toward her. “I can help you cure the poison bite, but not what really ails him.”
“Whatever that means. Tell me!”
She fixes me with a yellow eye. “The hydra’s bite isn’t venomous. Her blood is. He got blood into the wound. If you had sucked out the venom right away… but now you need to get Stymphalians.” A clack of her beak. “They are the antidote.”
“Right! Their… their urine? Was that what Naida had said? Is it supposed to cure all poison?”
“Their tears.”
“Tears? They are birds, how do they even cry? And oh, shit… I’ve turned them into egrets.”
The griffin is staring at me. “Egrets?”
“I turned them into what they used to be before they became metal birds, but what if I could turn them back? Wait, what if I haven’t turned all of them into egrets?”
Talk about a magical gift coming back to bite me in the ass.
“Egret tears will do, too, but if you find another bird able to shed tears for the guardian, that’s also okay,” the griffin says.
“Who would shed tears for him? Can you tell me—?”
“I have answered your question,” she says. “Now get out of my nest before I tear you to pieces.”