26. Phyllo-Based Joy
Phyllo-Based Joy
The light breeze still carried the crisp bite of a desert morning before the sun turned the air into an oven.
Griffon slowed to a stop only halfway through the courtyard.
His eyes were closed, his face relaxed as the rays lit his face.
Since being imprisoned days ago, this was the first time he’d seen the sun.
I felt as though I were witnessing something profound.
Like in that moment, he was accepting the dawn not just as a new day but as something more like a gift.
I decided in that moment that, as bad as they were, the last few days may have been worth it just to see that look of peace on his face.
A body suddenly collided with mine.
I stumbled into Griffon as the impact knocked the breath from my lungs. His arm snapped around me as his entire body went rigid. Still shaky from the near execution, my fingers trembled where they grasped the fabric of his tunic.
Then I heard it—soft, broken sobs pressed right against my shoulder. My heart lurched as I realized the body clinging to me wasn’t an attacker. It was Salma.
With a tight jaw, Griffon’s eyes flicked back and forth between us with the wariness of a man who’d just been through a battle and was determining if the next one had already arrived. He exhaled sharply through his nose with irritation, but his grip loosened just enough to let me turn toward her.
Her eyes were chocolate pools of fear as she clutched at me, her hands gripping my shoulders as if to confirm I was really there. “Little bird! I thought—the pyre—” Her voice hitched as she crushed me against her.
“I’m alright.” I wanted it to sound believable, but my voice cracked.
She pulled back and held me at arm's length as if checking for injuries.
“When I saw those flames, my heart stopped. And then he—” She turned suddenly toward Griffon.
Her expression shifted from relief to something else entirely.
With wide eyes, she took in his full appearance for the first time.
The disheveled curls. The soot across his forehead.
The streaks of blood at his temple. The intensity still burning in his bright eyes.
But mostly…the way he held himself like barely contained violence.
A flush crept up her neck. “You—you broke those ropes like they were thread.” Her voice had gone breathless. “And the manacles—”
But then she paused, her expression abruptly shifting to fury. She jabbed a finger into his chest. “You fought through a dozen armed men and you didn't think to do that before they went to light the fire?”
Griffon blinked, clearly not expecting to be scolded. “The situation required me to wait until the guards and soldiers—“
Her voice rose. “The situation required you not to give me heart failure!” She took a shaky breath as her eyes shone with fresh tears. “Do you have any idea what that’s like? To watch your friend almost burn?”
“Salma, it’s okay. We're safe now.”
“Safe.” A brittle laugh escaped her. “You call this safe? You were nearly executed, and now you're standing here like it's just another day.” She fiercely dashed her wet cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Both of you are impossible.”
Griffon shifting uncomfortably. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you.”
“Well, you did,” she said with a stomp of her sandal. But then her expression sobered, and she grabbed my hands. “I’m just glad you're both alive. When the king sentenced you, I wanted to speak up, to do something, but—”
“You couldn't have changed anything,” I assured her. “But thank you. For caring.”
A tear dripped onto her cheek. “Of course I care.” She glanced at Griffon again and sniffed.
And then, with a small smile tilting her lips, her gaze tracked over him, lingering on the breadth of his shoulders, the defined muscles of his forearms. “But, little bird…it seems you already have your own rather formidable protector.”
Griffon made a noncommittal sound, though I detected the faintest hint of color along his cheekbones.
Was he blushing? A compliment flustered the man who had just fought off a dozen soldiers without breaking a sweat? I filed that information away for later because that was just absolutely delightful.
I bit back a smile despite everything. “Salma.”
Her eyes sparkled with something between admiration and mischief. “What? I'm simply observing that your lovely companion is quite…” She gestured vaguely in Griffon's direction. “Capable.”
“That's one word for it,” he said dryly.
‘Terrifying’ was another. ‘Criminally attractive’ was probably a third, though I wasn’t about to say that out loud. My face was already doing enough talking.
Then her shoulders sagged. “Just... promise me you won't do anything else stupid.”
“I can't promise that,” Griffon said.
Her laugh was watery but genuine. “At least you're honest.”
She turned back to me, cupping my face in her hands. “Come find me later. We need to talk. About everything.” Her eyes flicked meaningfully between Griffon and me.
Heat crept up my neck. “There's nothing to—”
I shifted awkwardly as my sentence hung. Because nothing says ‘we're just friends’ like your face turning the color of a ripe pomegranate and losing the ability to complete sentences.
“Later,” she said firmly, giving me one more quick embrace before hurrying back toward the palace. She paused and glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure we were still okay.
I stood there watching her go, very aware of Griffon's continued proximity. “I apologize for her,” I murmured. “She means well.”
“Obviously,” he said with a lift of his brows. “But she cares about you,” he continued softly.
“She barely knows me.”
“Doesn't seem to matter to her.”
I couldn’t find any words with which to respond.
The concept of someone caring about me after years of thoroughly documented inadequacy was still somewhat foreign.
Novel, even. Like discovering a new constellation or finding out that cats aren’t evil incarnate.
Though I remain skeptical about the last one.
We continued toward the infirmary when Griffon leaned in. “Little bird, huh?” he teased.
I shrugged, willing the heat from creeping up my cheeks. “It seems to have stuck.”
He gave me a soft smile. “I like it.”
Something fluttered in my chest. Where did that come from? I coughed. Must be residual smoke inhalation. I coughed again to be sure.
We walked in silence for a few steps. “Having strength for an ember is extraordinary,” I said, mostly to myself. “I’ve never heard of one manifesting like that. The raw power of it—” I shook my head. “No wonder you kept it hidden.”
He didn't respond.
I glanced up at him. He was looking straight ahead, his expression doing that thing where it went still and gave nothing away. Not the blankness he used when he was bored or guarded. Something more deliberate than that.
“Griffon?”
“Strength is just what it looks like,” he said quietly.
I frowned. “What does that—”
But before I could finish, the ground tilted sideways, and my legs decided they were done working for the day. My world tilted to the right as whatever had been keeping me moving all morning drained away to nothing, like sand through my fingers.
“Whoa—” His arm caught me before I could collapse. “I’ve got you.”
“I’m fine.” My voice was thin and entirely unconvincing. “Just need a second.”
“You need more than a second.” He eased me down onto a nearby bench against the corridor wall. “Sit. Breathe.”
Sure, I sat, but breathing was too much like work. I struggled to pull in air as my hands shook. Tremors ran down my arms. Sound echoed too loudly in my ears.
“What’s going—” I cut off, shutting my eyes against the light that seemed suddenly too bright.
“Adrenaline crash,” he said, his breath colliding with mine. I cracked an eye to find him crouched in front of me, closer than I had realized. He took my hands in his. “You’ve been running on nothing but fear and survival for hours. You’re just coming down.”
“But we're fine. Everything’s fine,” I forced through chattering teeth. “This is stupid. I should be—”
“You should be exactly like this,” he interrupted gently. “You almost died. More than once. Your body knows it, even if your mind is trying to pretend otherwise.”
A distressing noise escaped my lips as I shuddered, and then suddenly I couldn't stop shaking. Griffon shifted to sit beside me on the bench and pulled me into his lap.
“Just breathe,” he murmured into my hair as I tucked my face under his chin. “We're not in any rush.”
The palace went on with its preparations around us as I shuddered against him.
Servants passed with linens, guards changed shifts, and servers balanced trays of food.
He never told me to pull myself together or hurry up.
He just held me while my body worked through the aftermath of our terrible morning.
Gradually, the shaking subsided to occasional tremors as my hammering heart slowed. The rhythm of my breathing evened out, and the world stopped feeling quite so overwhelming.
“Better?”
I nodded against his neck. “Sorry.”
“Don't be.” His hand rubbed slow circles on my back. “You're allowed to fall apart a little after the day you've had.”
“You're not falling apart.”
“I’ve had more practice.” Something sad flickered across his expression, and then he found my eyes. “And I will in my own way. Later,” he admitted quietly. “When no one's watching.”
Surprised by the admission, I pulled back enough to look at him fully. “You don't have to do it alone, you know. The falling apart.”
His intense eyes held mine as if searching for something. “Neither do you.”
We stayed like that for a few minutes longer before Griffon cleared his throat and helped me stand. “Come on.” He threaded his calloused fingers through mine. “Let's get you patched up.”
We walked in silence, my hand still clasped in his. I should probably let go. The crisis had passed. I was steady now.
But I didn't let go, and neither did he.