Our room at the inn is paid for until the week’s end, allowing us plenty of time to explore the city we’ve found ourselves in. Cernna grew thanks to the sea, a town built upon a bay where it was easy to fish, hunt, and trade. Tithes and taxes turned a town into a bustling city. We buy a map of the bay from a merchant near the inn, poring over it in our room. Cernna is large enough to cover most of the map, allowing Senach to create a plan on how we begin our explorations. I upend his plans almost immediately by taking us to taverns along the docks. He barters with me that first night—my choice of the taverns come dinnertime, I follow his decisions during the day. I get another pair of earrings made with Aedín’s scales from him as well.
Cernna is beautiful, the main roads paved and lined with various shops. Most buildings are painted white, any color coming from the paints used to line doorways and windows. Some are simple, a single color. Others are painted with flowers. Trees on others. Taverns are lined with water. So many add additional color with their roofs. Each night, Senach adds notes to our map and sketches out additional maps of Cernna’s districts as we discuss what to do with ourselves. I can present myself to the Lords of Cernna even without my uncle’s introduction letter, he can find guard work. I can laze about and get drunk like I used to, he can hover closer than my shadow in case I might find a tower to fling myself off. He doesn’t take kindly to that when I say it and storms out of the room. I sulk for only a little bit before I seek him out to apologize.
Still, I grow bored merely wandering Cernna. Each night, I lead Senach to a tavern earlier and earlier. The third day, he buys a pack of cards from a traveling merchant so we can play as we sit in the taverns. I seek out the taverns with bards playing that are comfortably full of other patrons, Senach and I always able to find a small table or the end of a long one for ourselves. In between songs, we listen to the talk that comes. A bard who recently left Dál Macha has tales of dragons in the skies. A group of mercenaries fuming amongst themselves over their pay being shorted and wondering if they should get revenge on the man who hired them or not. A merchant worried about the prospect of war in the east, another wondering if civil war may come to Dál Macha with the exile of their prince.
Senach makes us leave when that conversation starts.
During the last night our room is paid for, we stay in the inn’s common room to sit by the hearth and feast there. It’s quiet, no bard playing in the corner. Two long tables take up the majority of the room, and we sit silently at the end of one as we pick over a plate of baked pears and apples. We have enough coin brought with us that we need not rush from the inn, but I’d said something and he’d fallen silent with an odd look. He’s not said a word since and I have yet to figure out what was wrong with what I said. We were speaking of leaving Cernna, making our way south to Nyvhael despite Aedín’s presence. I had said . . .
I glance up at him. He watches me, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. His eyes look more human in the dim lighting, but the barmaid still stares at him with wonder as she brings us fresh mead. He ignores her, staring very pointedly at me. What did I say to him to earn such an intense look? It’s not the look he gives me when he wants me to stop talking about one of us dying one day. He wasn’t opposed to my suggestion of seeking out whatever lord my uncle wanted me to find. I was bored, and he—
Someone slams their hand down on the far end of our table.
“Enough!” a woman snaps. “I am tired of your bickering!”
There are four of them—two women, two men. One woman is standing, glaring down at the man who sits next to her. Her arms are thick with muscle, on display with a sleeveless tunic and gold armbands reflecting candlelight. She’s bigger than Senach, and probably taller too, and the hand she slammed down knocked her tankard over. The man next to her isn’t nearly so big, but he pointedly rights his own spilled tankard as he glares back at her. The other man sits across from them, his attention held by the box he holds away from the spilled ale. When he sets his box aside where it will be unharmed and realizes that the four of them have drawn attention, his turns his own dark look on everyone else in the room.
I eat a piece of baked pear, watching them. Senach tries to get my attention back on him, but I wave him off. The second woman has my attention now. She sits with her hands on either side of her head, jaw clenched. Her dark hair tumbles around her hands, almost hiding the bruising along the knuckles of one hand. When she drops her hands to give the other three a fierce look, that bruised hand rests on top of the other.
“We accepted a job,” she says, voice low. “We will complete this job. Then, we will go our separate ways.”
The big woman’s gaze snaps to her. She leans over the table. “Mór!”
But the second woman cuts her off. “What?” Mór snaps back. “You and Val have not stopped arguing since we arrived in Cernna.” She looks between them. “Last night, it was the oil Estrid uses on her sword. This morning, Val looks at you wrong.” She glares at the big woman, then the man. “Now Estrid means only to compliment you.”
“They’ll behave, they always do,” the tinkerer says.
“Don’t pretend innocence. You set his bed on fire two nights ago,” Mór says. He winces and leans away from her with a sheepish grin.
“Val tripped him into the river,” Estrid says, slowly sitting again.
Val rolls his eyes and glances about the tavern. He’s slim and pale, high cheekbones making him look gaunt and his frown making him look cold. His eyes are too hidden under the hood of his cloak to see their color, but our gazes meet and I can see his smirk clearly when he looks me over—up until Estrid shoves him off the end of the bench as she says something. He leaps to his feet angrily, face turning red. The other man snickers, and Estrid looks like she wants Val to try hitting her. Mór buries her face in her hands.
“They seem interesting,” I say, looking at Senach again.
He frowns. “No.”
I consider him, then slide down the bench to Mór’s side. She stiffens, as does the other woman. Then both scowl at me. I smile back, resting my chin in my palm. “Do you need any help with your job?” I ask.
“And how could you ever help us?” Mór asks.
“I have something no one else has.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You have something no one else has.”
“I do,” I say. All four of them look dubious. “I have a dragon.”
Behind me, Senach groans.
Val shoves his way back onto the bench, glaring at Estrid. “Dragons are only seen in Dál Macha,” he says.
“They’ve been seen elsewhere,” the other man says. The thing he tinkers with lets out a quiet, familiar melody as he glances at me. “But they do nest only in Dál Macha in this part of the world.”
I shrug. “I still have a dragon.”
Mór turns to me completely, and looks me over with more intensity than anyone ever has shown me before. “You bear none of the signs of being a dragon rider.”
“That’s because the dragon is mine,” Senach says, appearing next to Estrid. I try to keep my gaze on Mór and her companions only. Try and fail. Summer sky dragon eyes, teeth too sharp to be a human’s, nails turning into talons as he glares at me. He’s pulling from his bond with Aedín.
Estrid looks at his shoulders and arms thoughtfully, but Mór considers him and she sees what I see. Her gaze returns to me as she considers me anew. Estrid, Val, and the other man all continue to stare at Senach. They all wear the same expression, this calculating consideration as they take him in. This man who bears the traits of a dragon, standing near as tall as Estrid did. And who has yet to look away from me. I look back at Mór.
“We’re capable fighters as well,” I tell her. “We grew up training together and—”
“We need them,” Estrid interrupts, looking only at Mór. She looks resigned when Mór frowns. “We can’t get up the mountain without the dragon.” Mór shakes her head.
Senach steals my attention away as he tugs me from them, leaning over the table to hiss at me. “This is a bad idea.”
“Do you have a better one?” I ask. He sits with a scoff, close enough to the others that we can be easily pulled back into the conversation once Mór and Estrid have finished arguing. “I don’t particularly want to travel to Nyvhael and beg aid from whatever lord my uncle wants to send me to. So we’ll go up a mountain with this lot.”
He doesn’t look fully convinced, but Mór stands before he can say anything. She looks between the two of us as the others stand, collecting their things. “Meet us midmorning, at the lake,” she says. “Bring your dragon, and we’ll see about taking you on then.”
I nod. Senach and I watch them leave. He gestures for me to follow him to where we’d been sitting, and he stares at me stonily as he drinks his ale. I stare back at him as I drink mine. He shakes his head at the barmaid when she returns to us, but he never looks away from me as he gives her a few extra coins. She steps away with pink cheeks, then gasps as Senach lunges across the table for me. I throw myself back, tumbling off the bench before he can grab me and then to my feet.
“Ah, ah,” I say, wagging a finger at him. “There’s nothing you can really be mad about here.”
“Upstairs,” he snaps. “We will talk about this upstairs.”
I frown as I look him over. He’s more frustrated than angry. “Fine,” I say, gesturing for him to follow as I turn away.
“What is wrong with Nyvhael?” he demands as he follows me. “You said yourself it would be fun.”
I stop halfway up the stairs to turn and look at him. Most of the emotion has left his face, and he leans against the wall as he stares back at me. “Nyvhael would be fun,” I agree. “Living in Nyvhael while at the beck and call of another would not, nor would his spying on me for my uncle.”
The last of the frustration leaves him with a sigh as he gestures for me to continue up the stairs. He says nothing else as he follows, waiting until we’re in our room. I close the door behind us, then startle as I turn around and find Senach directly behind me. “You would have me still in Nyvhael,” he says, stepping forward slowly. I take a step back into the door, tilting my head to the side at him in question. “You have me now and always, Bridei, but I didn’t mean join some adventurers when I said we would survive. I meant . . .”
“Doing what my uncle wanted me to do?”
“We could have used him to find someone we trusted. And we wouldn’t have had to deal with someone like him here if you hadn’t burned the letter of introduction.”
“Was Aedín listening tonight?” I ask, attempting to slip by him. He throws an arm out, blocking me and almost gently pushing me back against the door. His hand stays against my chest, warm through my shirt.
“She’s asleep,” he answers. “Don’t change the subject. What are you playing at here? You can’t tell me you trust those four.”
I meet his gaze evenly. The room is lit only by the moon, his pupils wide. He’s handsomely beautiful in this dim lighting, and the moonlight catches on the scaled ear cuff he wears. Aedín’s evergreen scales look best under a full moon, but they still shine tonight and match the armbands he wears. He’s one of the few people I have to look up to. I slouch against the door so I have to look up a little more.
“They don’t know us,” I tell him. He raises his brows and leans over me. Looms, his hand still against my chest. “Have you never wanted to begin again where no one knows your name?”
“When I’m truly angry with you and want nothing to do with you,” he admits. “Only ever then.”
I jerk upright, affronted. “What? You don’t think about it with us running together?”
He grins slowly. “Do you?”
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My face burns. “Not the point,” I say tartly. “But you’re able to understand why I might prefer a motley crew of adventurers over some lord who might simper at my feet?”
His grin doesn’t fade. “You don’t like having someone on their knees for you?”
“My uncle doesn’t have good taste,” I answer dryly. “Answer my question.”
“I understand the draw.”
“I was never meant to be an heir,” I say softly. “Talorc was. Talorc was much better at it than me.” Senach wrinkles his nose and I speak quickly to forestall whatever argument leaps to his tongue. “He was. I should have been like all the other second sons before me and had some measure of freedom.”
“So you want to be like Prince Galan?” he asks, and I can’t tell if his tone holds disbelief or a mock.
“I can’t be like Galan. I don’t have a dragon.”
“That is not what you said earlier.”
“And you promptly corrected me. Stop arguing with me.” I shake my head at him as he grins again, unrepentant. “At least Galan got to actually do things. All I’ve done is drink myself silly for years.”
“You want your own adventure,” he says softly. I meet his gaze slowly, then look away and nod. “Oh, Bridei.” He sounds so exasperated, so fond. I smile at him. “We don’t even know what their job is.”
I shrug. “New beginnings are meant to be shrouded in mystery.”
“I worry about your new beginnings getting us killed.”
“Worry about it in the morning.”
When I try to get by him again, he lets me go, stepping back with a smile. I look away from that smile, pulling my shirt off. He comes up behind me, tauntingly warm in the cold of the room, but he slips by me to kneel in front of the empty hearth. I undress for bed as he builds a fresh fire to warm the room, turning in time to see him removing his shirt. The fire illuminates the scars crossing his back, then the scars along his left forearm as he tosses his shirt aside. When he looks at me, I busy myself with braiding my hair and falling into bed finally.
He kicks my bed to wake me in the morning, kicking it again when I grunt and hide my head under my blanket. “You wanted this, not me,” he says, ripping the blanket back. He grabs my legs next, yanking me from the bed. I fall to the floor in an undignified sprawl while he stands over me with his hands on his hips. I glare up at him. He stares back down impassively. I sigh, laying there petulantly for another moment before I hold my hands out to him. He rolls his eyes, but he takes my hands and pulls me to my feet.
It’s a scene not unlike ones of the past, back home in the castle on Dál Macha or the dragon knights’ barracks where I would crawl into his bed after a night of drinking. Once, after a night I’d drunk so much that I can no longer remember the night, he’d brushed my hair away from my face and looked me over closely with the softest expression I’d ever seen on his face. Now, he lets me go and marches out of the room.
I dress alone and wait for him to return, but he never does. When I try to seek him out, I find him immediately—at the bottom of the stairs with a small parcel, his arms crossed. I stop two steps above him, crossing my arms back. He gestures for me to follow and I do, frowning at his silence as he leads me to the inn’s stables. Two horses await us and he pulls himself onto one without a glance at me. I sigh and approach the other horse. It’s placid as I swing up into the saddle, quick to follow Senach as he directs his horse out of the yard. He waits until we’re out of the city entirely to open his parcel, tossing me an apple from it. I smile and bite into it, urging my horse closer to his to peer at what else he’s brought.
“I paid for another four nights,” he says. “We’ll see why they need a dragon to go up a mountain before we agree to anything.”
“Deal,” I reply, pointing at the parcel. “Give.”
He smiles slowly and divides our breakfast. We ride silently after that, watching the fields around us turn to a small wood. Birdsong surrounds us until a large shadow flies over the trees, making every creature fall silent. The horses lift their heads, but continue on. Dawn emerges into a clear sky and trees give way to a small, still lake where Mór and the others already wait. Mór sits on a rock, watching as Estrid spars against both of the men at once. Val dances and steps through the air, wind swirling around him as the other man simply does his level best to avoid getting hit with Estrid’s axe.
Val tumbles from the air when Aedín lands next to the lake, the ground shaking slightly, and then stares at her while on his hands and knees. Mór sits up and slides from her perch slowly, reaching blindly for her sword. The other two stare openmouthed, weapons pointing to the ground.
Senach and I ride up to them slowly, our horses never faltering. I pat the neck of mine, smiling softly. I’ll have to ask later how he acquired Dál Machan bred and trained horses. Aedín stretches her body out, trilling happily and softly before shaking her ruff out and laying down. She watches everyone with the same summer sky eyes as Senach, pupils in thin slits, and the sun reflects off evergreen scales and twilight feathers, pitch-black talons digging into the dirt.
Estrid is the first to speak. “They’re coming with us, right?”
Mór nods, forcing herself to look away from Aedín. She looks a little dazed when she looks at me. “Estrid is the woman who looks like she’d break your back with a hug. Val’s the twig next to her. Constantín is the one covered in soot. I’m Mór.” She pauses to take a deep breath, shaking her head. “We’re going to steal a gryphon.”
Senach walks his horse right up to her before halting. “A gryphon,” he repeats.
“Yes. A baby.”
He laughs. “Oh, pardon me. A baby gryphon. Did you hear that, Bridei?”
I sigh. “I heard. You’d have better luck stealing a dragon egg.”
Mór shrugs. “Dragon eggs don’t always hatch, and gryphons have always had nests in the mountains east of here.”
“You are aware that they kill those who approach their nests and young?” Senach asks. “How are you to get past the parents?”
She gestures to Estrid, Constantín, and Val. “I have them.”
“You’re so sure of them?” Senach asks. “Do any of you know what it’s like to have claws digging into your skin? They tear you apart, and not all damage can be healed. This job should never have been considered. It’s too dangerous.”
“We’ve had no luck with other jobs and we’re running out of money,” Mór says.
“So you agree to steal a gryphon? You can’t be that desperate.” Her look, and the ones of the others, tell him they are. Senach sighs and shakes his head before he looks at me. “Are we that desperate?”
“I’ve never seen a gryphon before,” I say mildly.
He looks so resigned. “We’re that desperate. We get equal cuts of the pay, and Aedín will get us on and off the mountain,” he tells Mór. She nods as he dismounts. “We need a plan that actually works and you four need to get used to Aedín. How’s the hunting here?”
Mór considers him before answering his question. They discuss the lake and surrounding forest as he brushes down his horse. I watch them as I dismount and tend to my horse, but they speak in low voices that make it hard to eavesdrop. Easier to watch Estrid, Val, and Constantín as they set their weapons aside and inch towards Aedín. Aedín watches them lazily, head on the ground. Once, she stretches and adjusts how she lays to sunbathe. They jump back, waiting until Aedín settles and is still again before they move forward. Estrid proves the bravest of them, approaching Aedín first even as she wiggles and snorts smoke at Estrid. The dragon still lets Estrid touch her. Estrid’s face lights up in delight and she laughs as she pets Aedín. Val and Constantín are still wary when they pet Aedín, but both of them relax as the dragon does nothing to stop them.
Senach and Mór walk off into the trees together to hunt, and I stay to watch our horses and speak with the others. Estrid questions me about Aedín, Val and Constantín still working over their awe. Slowly, they start sparring again as the shine to meeting a dragon dulls. I sit in the grass, watching them. Again, Val dances through the air. He makes steps out of nothing, blocks he can jump off as he spins away from Estrid’s axe. She always continues her swing after missing him, spinning to bring it down on Constantín. He’s not quite confident in how he swings his sword to counter her attack, but he manages to stay on his feet.
I set about building a fire as the morning’s chill refuses to leave, drinking blackberry wine from a flask as I collect wood. Constantín is the first to abandon their sparring, organizing what wood I bring to him in a fire pit. I sit on the ground again as he strikes sparks into the kindling, and the fire is quick to breathe and come to life. By the time Senach and Mór return to us, each of them carrying rabbits, Estrid and Val have also given up on sparring to sprawl around the fire. As the rabbits are prepared, the four of them tell tales of their previous jobs and failures. Senach and I listen quietly, passing my flask between us until the wine is finished. Estrid challenges Senach as we eat, and their resulting fight makes him loose-limbed enough to sprawl on the grass next to me. He lays with his head against my leg as he and Mór discuss the mountain, Val chiming in every so often with his own knowledge of the area.
It’s late afternoon by the time we leave the lake. Senach and I ride at the rear of our column through the trees, discussing the plan to steal a gryphon. We’re to meet again at the lake in three days’ time, where we’ll climb onto Aedín and let her carry us off to the mountain and into the gryphon nesting grounds. They prefer high ledges, the parents hunting often once the young is born. Winter is late to seek out any young ones, but desperation can make one do silly things.
We’re all silent as we enter Cernna, splitting off to return to our respective inns under a light rain. Senach and I turn our horses over to stable boys, then slip inside the inn. We disappear into our room immediately, Senach crouching to kindle a fire in the hearth as I remove my damp clothing. He ventures downstairs again to get bowls of hot stew for us and a bottle of ale, setting it all on a table near the hearth as he smiles at how I sit on the hearthstones. I take my bowl as he changes into dry clothes and settles next to me, the two of us luxuriating in the warmth after the chill of Cernna’s rainy streets.
I grow drowsy first, leaning heavily against his side with my head on his shoulder. His hand rests on my leg. The ale isn’t the worst I’ve had—there are some in the Lower City on Dál Macha that can only ever be called swill no matter how drunk you are—but I’ve had better from this very inn and I wonder what Senach said to get this bottle. He doesn’t tell me no matter how much I prod at him. When the bottle is empty, he gets to his feet and holds his hands out to me. I grumble about him being stricter about bedtime than my own mother, making him smile as he pulls me to my feet. He dumps me on my bed far more unceremoniously than she ever would, though. I tell him so, too. He ignores me as he climbs into his bed. I stare at him until I’m asleep.
He teases me awake in the morning by running talons along my skin. I frown at him as I roll out of my bed, for he’s far too playful and awake for how early he wakes me. He watches me as I stumble around the room to get dressed, smiling when I flap a hand at him to lead the way downstairs. He won’t sleep the day away, but he normally doesn’t wake so early unless he has a plan for something.
“Tell me,” I say as we walk downstairs.
“No,” he replies.
“Tell me,” I say as we take breakfast from the innkeeper.
“No,” he replies, taking my plate for himself. The innkeeper smiles and provides me with another.
“Tell me,” I say when we leave the inn.
He stops and stares at me, then gestures for me to follow him as he turns away. “Come along.”
We take a proper tour of Cernna then, coming across Mór and the others more than once. They acknowledge us blandly at first, then warily as we find them a second time or a third. Mór never stays when we find her, always storming off in the opposite direction. Estrid tries to taunt Senach into a duel three times. Constantín watches us suspiciously as he shops, bartering for trinkets and tools. We find Val once in the morning and he looks almost murderous before he disappears. It takes until the end of the day for Senach to locate him again, and he has a sharklike grin for Val when their gazes meet. Val looks so distressed I have to smother a laugh. It all happens the same the next day, though we find Val more frequently. I wait until we return to the inn to chide Senach, cornering him on the stairs.
“That was mean, tracking them so,” I say, waving a finger at him in rebuke. “Aren’t we supposed to trust them?”
“I’m trying to keep a prince safe,” he replies, taking my hand. “I don’t trust anyone.”
I glance at our hands. “You don’t need to keep me safe.”
“What if I want to?” he asks. He looks like a smug, lazy cat.
“You should find some better desires,” I say, pulling my hand free. “I’ve heard I get people killed.”
“You don’t get people killed.”
“Only the one.”
“Bridei,” he snaps.
“Forgive me,” I say, smiling at him as I start walking upstairs again. Senach prowls after me like a predator watching prey. “It seems the whispers that chased me around Dál Macha cling to my thoughts still.”
“Do they? I will have to knock them from your head, then.” He leaps up the steps. I reach the top of the stairs and dance back, out of his reach. “You said new beginnings. That means you stop thinking like that,” he says.
“Like what?”
But the pause I take to question him is all he needs, swooping in to lift me over his shoulder and carry me into our room. I’m thrown onto my bed, warned to stay put, and left alone as he goes downstairs to find dinner. I throw my boot at the door as it shuts. When he returns, I have a fire going in the hearth and a bottle of brandy from home opened. He rolls his eyes and we discuss our plans to meet with the adventurers in the morning as we eat, then as we lounge and ready ourselves for bed. Doubt is heavy in his voice if not his face, though all traces of it are gone by morning when we leave the inn to meet with Mór and the others. He shows only confidence to them as we leave the city for the lake.
Aedín waits for us at the lake’s edge already, dozing in the sun despite the cold. She rouses when we reach her, shaking and laying flat to allow us to climb on her. Senach and I do so quickly, so used to scrambling up her that neither of us notices the others only watching us until we’re both seated along her spine. He sighs and jumps down to show them each how. Mór is first, settling behind me, and Val’s quick to follow her. Estrid has to give Constantín a boost, Mór and Val hauling his shaking body up. Senach waits for Estrid to climb up and settle behind Constantín before climbing back up himself. I wrap my arms around Senach’s waist gladly, the nerves that always precede Aedín launching herself into the air making themselves known as Aedín rises and shakes herself lightly. She tests how we sit on her, Senach calling for the others to sit closer together. Mór’s arms are around me in what would be a bruising grip if it weren’t for our coats.
When she’s satisfied, Aedín launches herself into the sky with no warning.
Someone behind me shrieks with surprise. My giddy nerves translate into laughter as the wind hits my face. There are few experiences that compare to flying with a dragon, and the first flight is always terrifying at first. I was nine the first time Senach and I flew on Aedín, the two of us sneaking out of the castle at dawn and spending the whole day exploring the island on Aedín’s back. Everyone had been furious when we returned, from dragon knights to my father. Riders weren’t supposed to take to the sky until a year into their squire training, and I wasn’t supposed to do anything of the sort ever. A prince, even when one isn’t the heir, can’t be risked.
Senach and I had waited for two days before we did it again.
Mór slowly relaxes the closer we get to the mountains, but her arms stay tight around me. Aedín is gentle on these new riders, giving none of her playful twists and flips as we soar. Senach is silent, looking over the mountains as we reach them and guiding Aedín to a tall peak. She circles around it, finding a small plateau to land on and let us disembark. Mór starts giving orders immediately, Val disappearing to scout ahead and Estrid watching the skies to track any gryphons she sees. I watch Constantín and Mór toy with a large bag until Val returns to lead us along a goat’s trail to a nest. We hug the rocky wall as we move, barely breathing to avoid making a sound and alerting any nearby gryphons. The nest we come upon is a small one, with a sleeping babe in it. Its wings are tucked close, its head covered in a thick, brown down that melds into short, tawny fur. Utterly defenseless as Val and Constantín approach it slowly.
And then an eagle cries out, startling the baby awake as the gryphons return to their nest.