Talon
Lord Yelling thrashes in my hold until I appear in the throne room of the Winter Court. The moment my paws hit polished stone, the whole room erupts. Gasps crack through the air. A goblet shatters somewhere to my left. Silk rustles. Someone yelps. Another person shrieks outright.
I would laugh if I weren’t so furious. It’s as if they’ve never seen a griffin before.
It’s beautiful in the way a blade can be beautiful. Sharp. Unforgiving. Meant to cut.
A line of guards rushes toward us with weapons drawn, then slows when they realize I’m not attacking the throne. One of them veers off and returns with a silk robe clutched in both hands. Good. Because I’m not about to stand in the middle of the Winter Court naked after shifting.
I release Lord Yelling only when enough guards close in to seize him.
He immediately starts fighting them, hissing and kicking as I let my shift roll over me.
My griffin body shrinks, feathers melting into skin, paws becoming hands, claws retracting as the magic leaves me standing on unsteady legs.
The chill of the throne room bites into my bare skin at once, and I take the robe from the waiting guard.
“Thank you,” I mutter as I shrug it on.
My heart pounds too hard from adrenaline and rage and the lingering terror of leaving Wren behind while he wasn’t fully himself. I tie the robe around my waist and force my breathing steady before dropping to one knee and pressing a hand to my chest.
“Your majesties,” I say, because I know enough of courts and royals to understand respect matters even when I’d rather throw Lord Yelling through a wall, “please forgive me for dropping in without notice.”
A hush falls over the room.
When I lift my gaze, the king and queen sit high on a dais of carved marble. They look nothing alike and somehow perfectly matched. His Majesty is all harsh edges. Her Majesty is softer at first glance, but there’s something ancient in her eyes, something dangerous under all that grace.
“Rise, griffin,” His Majesty says. His voice rings through the room.
I push to my feet.
“Tell us your grievance with this Fae.”
As if given permission to make the situation worse, Lord Yelling jerks against the guards hard enough that one nearly loses his grip.
“Release me!” he snarls. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I was simply—”
“Wren told you no.”
The words roar out of me before I can stop them. Every face in the room turns my way, but I don’t care. I’m too angry to care about court etiquette anymore.
I square my shoulders and look straight at the royals.
“Wren told him no to being his companion, and Lord Yelling pursued him all the way to Hex. He’s been manipulating Wren’s dreams for weeks.
Today he showed up at the Summer Festival and got into his head again.
He twisted Wren’s mind so badly Wren couldn’t tell me from him. ” I throw a hand toward Lord Yelling.
Murmurs move through the court. Shock. A few outright scandalized gasps.
Good. Let them be horrified.
A Fae with long pink hair breaks from the gathered crowd and rushes toward me so fast two guards try to intercept her before apparently realizing who she is. Her eyes are wide and frantic, her hands shaking.
“Tell me Wren’s okay.”
The desperation in her voice hits me. I blink. “You’re his mother?”
She nods too fast. “Please.” Her eyes dart to the throne and back to me. “Please tell me my sweetling is alright. I can’t bear it if he’s been hurt.”
The panic in her expression softens something in me. Wren talks about her with so much love, and I can see exactly why.
“Wren’s okay,” I say quickly. “He’s rattled, but he’s okay. Lord Yelling got into his head at the festival, but Wren came back to himself.”
Mostly because I shifted and snapped the illusion in half. The thought turns my stomach all over again. If I’d hesitated any longer, what would Lord Yelling have made Wren do? What would he have made Wren believe?
I point at the struggling Fae. “He’s the problem.”
Wren’s mother follows the gesture with a look so vicious I almost take a step back. It lasts only a second before her attention snaps back to me.
“You stayed with him?” she asks. “You helped him?”
My cheeks go hot. “Yeah.” I clear my throat and make myself say it. “Wren and I are dating.”
Her mouth forms a tiny O. Then, to my complete shock, she bounces on her toes and claps.
“Oh!” she squeals. “Oh, my sweetling found someone.”
Heat floods my face. I’m certain I’m red all the way to my ears. Somewhere behind her, I hear a courtier snort into their sleeve.
Wren’s mother grabs my forearm. “You’re very handsome.”
I nearly choke on my own tongue.
“Thank you?” I say, because I genuinely have no idea what else to say to that.
She beams at me as her eyes roam over me.
I drag my attention back to the throne, needing to finish this Yelling business so I can return to Wren.
“Wren specifically asked me not to get involved,” I say, forcing my voice back into something steady.
“He wanted to handle it himself. But I can’t stand by and let this continue.
Not when Lord Yelling is torturing him.”
His Majesty’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes sharpen. “What exactly do you wish for me to do about him?” He gestures lazily toward the Fae currently trying to bite one of the guards.
“Cut him off from the human realm.” I don’t hesitate. “He’s either walking between veils on his own or he’s got someone helping him. Either way, put a stop to it. He shouldn’t be able to get anywhere near Hex again.”
Lord Yelling thrashes harder. “You can’t just cut me off like that! I control the goblin market. You’ll never—”
His Majesty lifts a hand.
The entire room goes still.
“Silence.”
The word isn’t loud, but it quiets the entire room.
Lord Yelling’s mouth snaps shut.
“How,” the king asks, “have you been getting into Hex? Do you possess the ability to walk between the veils?”
Lord Yelling refuses to answer. He goes rigid between the guards and stares at the floor, jaw clenched.
The king’s expression goes colder.
“Get the truth serum.”
That does it.
“No, wait.” Lord Yelling lurches forward, eyes wild. “I’ll tell you.”
He spills everything in a rush, like once the first secret is loose, he can’t hold any of them back.
A disgraced griffin has been teleporting him between realms for payment.
They knew what Lord Yelling intended. They knew Wren wanted nothing to do with him.
They did it anyway for coin and whatever other promises Lord Yelling made.
The confession hits me like a slap. A griffin.
I don’t know the male. I don’t know if I’ve ever met him.
The Fae lands are full of griffins who never looked twice at me unless it was to sneer at my flour-dusted hands or tell me I belonged in a kitchen and nowhere else.
Still, shame prickles beneath my skin. Some part of me hates that one of my kind helped do this to Wren.
His Majesty doesn’t look surprised, only disgusted. “Bring him to me,” he says.
The guards march Lord Yelling up the dais. He resists every step, digging in his heels, wings flaring uselessly from his back.
“What are you doing?” Yelling demands, fear finally cracking through his arrogance.
The king rises from his throne. The room feels colder with every step he takes down the dais. Frost blooms over the polished floor beneath his boots. Even the guards look uneasy.
“You won’t be able to go between realms,” His Majesty says, “even with help.”
Lord Yelling goes pale. “No.”
The king takes Lord Yelling’s right hand before the Fae can yank away and drags one finger over his palm. Magic flashes white blue and vicious. An X carves itself into the skin like living frostbite, glowing for one awful second before sinking deep.
Lord Yelling screams. The sound tears through the throne room. “No!” He fights hard enough now that the guards have to wrench his arms behind his back. “No, you can’t do this, please—”
“You’re banished from the Winter Court and the human realm,” His Majesty says, voice carrying over the screams with effortless authority. “If you attempt to enter the human realm again, the veils will rip you apart.”
The room falls into silence after that. Even Lord Yelling stops fighting. He just stares at the mark on his palm like it’s a death sentence. Maybe it is.
His breathing turns ragged. When he finally speaks, his voice is wrecked. “I loved him.”
I hate that those words make something in my chest twist. Not because I believe they excuse a damn thing, but because some tiny part of me almost pities him.
Lord Yelling lifts his head, eyes wet and shining. “Wren is kind and sweet and everything anyone could ever want. Even his bratty side is desirable.”
I close my eyes for half a second. He’s not wrong. Wren is all of those things. Sweet and sharp and impossible and bright. He’s brave even when he’s scared. He walks into a room and lights it up even when he’s in a sour mood.
But Wren doesn’t want Lord Yelling. Wren wants freedom. And, somehow, impossibly, he wants me. When I open my eyes again, Lord Yelling is staring at the floor. I don’t forgive him. I never will. But I understand enough to know obsession can rot into something ugly if you let it.
I step forward and bow my head to the throne. “Thank you, Your Majesty. If you’re agreeable, I’d like to return to Wren.”
His Majesty studies me for a beat, then nods. “Before you go.”
He descends the rest of the dais and stops directly in front of me. Up close, the king is even more intimidating. He reaches into his sleeve and withdraws a thin yellow ribbon. He offers it to me. “Give this to Wren.”
I take it carefully. It hums warm against my fingers.
The king exhales, and for the first time, his stern expression shifts into something almost regretful. “I may have been too harsh in punishing him for requesting release from his contract. This will dissolve his banishment and restore his ability to walk between veils.”
For a second, I just stare at him. Wren can come back. Wren can travel again. He can have that piece of himself back, the one that was torn away so cruelly. The relief that crashes through me is so sudden my knees almost give.
Wren’s mother gasps. “You’ll truly let him back?” she asks, voice trembling.
The queen smiles at her husband. His Majesty glances at her, then back at Wren’s mother.
“Yes. My queen has made me realize the error of my judgment. Wren didn’t deserve to be severed from the only life he really knew. If he wishes to return to the Winter Court, we will find him a position better suited to him. He will have quarters befitting his station as your son.”
Wren’s mother makes a strangled sound and throws her arms around the king.
I look away very quickly because it feels like a private moment, but it only lasts a second before she lets him go and whirls toward me instead.
There’s no time before she launches herself into my arms. She’s small and warm and smells like jasmine.
Her arms wrap around my shoulders with startling force.
It takes everything in me not to flinch from the sudden contact.
Not because I don’t want it, but because I’m not used to it.
I don’t know what to do with spontaneous affection from Wren’s mother.
“Thank you,” she says fiercely, squeezing tighter. “Thank you for taking care of him.”
Then she kisses my cheek. My face burns so hot I’m surprised the frost on the floor doesn’t melt. “It’s nothing.”
“It is not nothing,” she says, pulling back just enough to look at me. “Griffin. You brought my son justice when this court failed him.”
I swallow hard. “Talon,” I blurt. “My name’s Talon.”
Her smile turns soft. “Thank you, dear Talon.”
Something in my chest squeezes painfully. Wren has her smile. Not exactly, but enough that I see it now. Enough that the resemblance catches me off guard. I clutch the ribbon tighter.
“It’s my pleasure,” I say, and I mean it more than I’ve ever meant anything. “But if you don’t mind, I really need to get back to Wren. He wasn’t exactly in a good state when I brought Lord Yelling here.”
Her whole face crumples with fresh worry before she smooths it away. “Yes, of course. Send him my love. Tell him…” She presses a hand to her mouth, thinking. “Tell him his mother misses him terribly and that if he wants to come home, he’ll always have one.”
My throat goes tight. What if he does want to come home? “I’ll tell him.”
She pats my arm like I’m already family. It’s strange, but I don’t hate it.
His Majesty steps back toward the throne. “You’re always welcome in the Winter Court, Talon. Go.”
“Thank you.” I grip the ribbon in one hand, picture Wren, and let the magic take me.
The throne room vanishes in a rush. I land back in Hex with my heart in my throat and one thought burning brighter than any other. Please let Wren be alright.