Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lark
The scent of smoke hits me first. It is soon followed by blood. Sharp. Metallic. It brings a tightening to my gut.
My paws pound the earth as we race down a narrow forest path, trees whipping past in a blur. Behind me, warriors thunder forward on horseback. Above, shadows loom as massive wings carve through the air.
The griffins.
A scream tears through the trees.
Female.
Close.
I push harder, muscles pumping, before I break through the trees and the village comes into view.
Cottages are ablaze with smoke billowing. A cart lies overturned in the mud, and a child is cowering behind one of the wheels. Two men are dragging a woman out by the arms, her dress torn, her legs kicking.
Bastards. One of them says something crude just before I crash into him hard enough to crack ribs, my jaws locking on his shoulder. His scream is satisfying. Blood floods into my mouth, hot and bitter. I shake once, hearing a distinct crack, and then drop him.
The woman scrambles away, hurrying back under the cart, dragging the weeping child into her arms.
But his companion is upon me. Blade drawn, hands shaking as he takes in my great size.
Lips curling back, I stalk him down.
He shrinks back, a coward now that he’s not preying on an innocent villager.
I leap, teeth enclosing his wrist, crushing bone and tearing his hand clean off. He screams as I take him by the throat, feel the snap before his body drops to the floor.
A man in rough-spun clothes battles with a raider ahead. I charge for them, taking the raider down in a snarl of fury.
Blood drips from my snout as I spin and find a mounted raider bearing down on me, sword poised to strike. Before I can tumble aside, a shadow drops from above, russet feathers and burning eyes streaking toward us.
Galeor. Aka Fenix’s griffin.
His talons hook beneath the raider’s arms. With a single downward beat of his wings, he tears the man free of the saddle. Horse and rider scream, one in shock, one in agony, before the griffin flings the raider into a nearby collapsing roof.
Galeor wheels low, golden eyes locking with mine, before he shoots skyward again, only to plunge for the next kill. A low approving rumble rises in me, and I leap past the rubble and tear into another raider stupid enough to think me distracted.
The world becomes multifaceted. I’m aware of the griffins, of my wolf, of the human warriors, how we move together. Instinctive, seamless. A rhythm. A battle-bond. One that feels like part of me.
The griffins rise and drop, protecting the human soldiers and me alike. Ahead, Aldric’s gray wings fold and claws crush two men into the dirt. A human soldier rides past, blade wet, expression grim.
Two raiders try to run.
I leap, slamming one of them into the ground, tearing out the back of his throat. A soldier is on the other and cuts him down.
When I lift my bloodied snout and turn back to the village, I find the only raiders left are the dead or dying. I pad back to the center of the square, nose in the air, alert for any sign of threat.
A soot-smudged villager stumbles out of a cottage doorway.
A girl clings to his side, while another stands close, his hand wrapped around her wrist. His eyes widen as he takes me in, and his lips part.
“Direwolf,” he cries. Not in the way of warning, more of surprise.
Others turn to look, like they are seeing me for the first time.
“Direwolf!”
A cheer goes up.
My fur prickles.
Something stirs within me. Memories of direwolves fighting beside griffins in battle.
I shake my snout, trying to ward off the strange, dizzying sensation.
Violet was forever offering up tales from her years of scholarly reading as we traveled. Gods, I was a fucking sap for her, always riveted when she spoke. The exact memory eludes me now, just out of reach, but enough of it lingers to set the hairs on the back of my neck rising.
I’m not one for nonsense like destiny, but this is all feeling very fateful, and it’s not the first time I have had such a thought. I said as much to Rafe back in Acton Trussell. She was obsessed with griffins, and only now do I wonder if there was more to it.
If that more encompasses Rafe and me…
Fuck. My head hurts trying to wrap itself around this puzzle.
A soldier strides past, breaking the spell.
His armor is bloody, and so is his sword.
He stalks over to a fallen raider and spears the bastard through the heart.
Yet more warriors move among the villagers, helping the wounded, and making sure all raiders are dead.
They begin to move bodies, and one of the fallen snags my attention.
My hackles rise as I pad closer. As my gaze lands upon his face, I realize why.
I know this man. A former captain of the guard back at Violet’s family estate.
Not a friend. Nor even a man I respected.
He was an arrogant bastard who thought himself a cut above the rest of us.
But what the fuck is he doing here, dead in the dirt? He is no raider, at least he never was. Cut from the same cloth as that Maren bastard that Rafe and I had clocked in the Acton Trussell market and said nothing to Violet about.
One we could explain away. Two, we cannot.
I shift without warning, bones snapping and reforming into a human man. I crouch.
Tied by leather around his throat is a seal ring.
I curl my hand around the leather, rip it free, and lift it to the light.
Goosebumps erupt across my skin as I note the three towers and crown.
Hydornia. But more than that. Violet’s homeland and family crest…
belonging to her bitch sister, the Queen.
My chest heaves under the potent surge of terror and rage.
The air displaces beside me. A huge gray griffin lands with a thud, wings folding in—Aldric. His head twists as he takes in the scene, whirling eyes settling on me and on what I hide in my fist. Then he shifts to a man.
“What is that?” Atlas demands.
I rise, needing a fucking moment. Can I trust him? My wolf tells me I already do, but this is a fucking lot.
“A seal ring. I know the crest—I recognized the man.”
Atlas waits, but his sudden stillness tells me he knows this is significant in some way.
“Violet is not merely a scholarly lass fascinated by griffin lore. She is a princess and sister to a Hydornian Queen… Rafe and I both soldiered there. It’s how we met her and came to be her companions on her travels.
” That first encounter with the younger Violet is overshadowed by deep unease.
“Her sister is cruel—nothing like Violet. Once had a man whipped for whistling a happy tune.”
He doesn’t interrupt, but a slow, burning rage simmers through the bond like he knows this is going nowhere good.
“Queen Elisa despises omegas. Violet left before her sister discovered what she was. That crest… I don’t know why her men are here, but her reasons won’t be good.
We clocked another of her sister’s men looking out of place in Acton Trussell market when we first arrived.
At the time, we just wanted to get Violet out of there afore the bastard recognized her.
” My pulse hammers. “I’m not letting that harpy anywhere near Violet, I will—”
“Steady, wolf.”
The command snaps, stilling the panic clawing at my chest.
“Bring it with you,” he says. “We will speak more back at the eyrie. Your trust in telling me this is acknowledged.”
I swallow hard.
I am standing on shifting sand, prophecy, griffins, direwolves, Violet, everything tangled together.
The air crackles, and a giant charcoal gray griffin fills the space where Atlas once stood.
Aldric’s beak clacks. “Fear not for your mate,” he says imperiously. “The full force of Cairnborn Pride and all our considerable might stand in her defense.”
He glances across the ruined village.
“The soldiers will stay and help the villagers,” Atlas adds through the bond. “We must return.”
A shiver crawls through me. There is more I need to tell, for Queen Elisa is embroiled with the High King of Hydornia. Who knows how far and wide this goes?
But he is right. This is not the place.
Direwolves.
Griffins.
A cruel queen.
A woman I love.
It is all tied together.
“What of Rafe?” I demand.
Aldric opens his beak and unleashes a mighty screech. Wings unfurl, beating the air with a force that nearly knocks me on my ass.
He doesn’t answer.
He takes off. His screech is a call to the pride and to me.
I shift, bones cracking and reforming into the wolf, and launch myself after them.
It is only after I'm running that I realize he shifted to human fully clothed, where I was naked, my clothing left in a heap on the floor of the training pit. A neat fucking trick. Also, when we were first taken, I recall that all the bastards were naked—by choice, it would seem.