One of the parents swoops down, taloned front feet reaching for Val as he throws himself back. The other flies straight for Constantín. He throws the bag down and runs as Estrid steps into the open, brandishing her axe. The gryphons fall back. Senach and Mór step forward to flank Estrid, both drawing their swords. I hesitate, unsure of what to do, but then Val is snatching the bag up and running for the chirping baby. One of the gryphons shrieks and flies for him. I tackle him, the gryphon’s talons barely missing us. He swears and shoves me away as someone cries out.
“We need to leave,” I yell at everyone. “There’s no way we can fight off two angry gryphons!”
“We can’t leave!” Constantín yells back. “We need that baby!”
It all happens so quickly.
One of the gryphons shrieks angrily and dives for him, getting hold of his legs. He cries out and Senach kicks the gryphon away. Estrid’s shoulder bleeds from where one gryphon struck her. Mór flanks her injured side, stepping lightly as she keeps both gryphons within her sight. The gryphons move together in their attack, one of them distracting Estrid and the other attacking Mór. Mór drops her sword as a talon slashes the back of her hand. She gasps as Estrid yanks her away, blood spattering the rocks around us, but the gryphons attack Senach next, both focusing on him as he swings his great sword. One gets his back while he fends off the other, but the other is chased off by Estrid. Val runs for the baby again and I run after him. The gryphons turn on us, and there’s nothing but fear in Senach’s voice as he calls my name. A gryphon gets Val’s leg as he steps into the air to get away from them. He tumbles on top of the other gryphon, sending it careening into me.
Aedín roars and emerges over the shelf’s edge, summer sky eyes boring into the gryphons.
They squawk and surround their baby protectively. Estrid helps Val and Mór onto Aedín’s back as Senach hauls me to my feet. “Get on her back, Estrid,” Senach calls. “She’ll have to grab us.”
I frown at him. “Why are we not getting on her back?”
Aedín’s shadow covers us as he pulls me close. “Constantín can’t ride her and we don’t have time for five of us to get settled,” he says as Aedín grasps us in her feet.
I cling to Senach as Aedín gently picks Constantín up—I hate when we have to travel like this. It’s strange to be held so, nothing under me and talons as thick as Senach’s arms almost digging into me. Constantín squeaks in terror and clings to Aedín. The gryphons leave us alone as we fly off, tending to their baby and checking their nest for any other dangers. I sigh. Senach’s blood is warm as it flows over my hand, and his breathing is ragged enough that I wonder if he would have been unable to sit upon Aedín’s back himself.
She takes us back to the lake, dropping Senach and I as she flies over a patch of land. There are shouts from the others as she continues flying, spinning in a wide circle before coming back to land carefully on three legs. Constantín is set down gently as Mór and Estrid jump off her back. Val is slower, sliding off and landing with a pained gasp. I wince in sympathy as Mór helps him to where Constantín lays, and Estrid pulls off her boots and armor before wading out into the lake. The water stirs around her as she holds her arms out, tendrils of it snaking up into the air—then it wraps around her arms tightly, pressing into her clothes and skin. She’s soaked as she walks back to us, kneeling next to Constantín and putting her hands on his legs. His skin begins to knit back together, blood slowly stopping. He groans, covering his face with his hands.
“I got a very distinct impression of disappointment,” she says.
“Tell your god we won’t be doing it again,” Mór replies tiredly, wrapping a strip of cloth around her hand.
Estrid nods. “There was a threat of being abandoned if we do.”
Mór winces as she starts wrapping another strip of cloth around Val’s leg. He stares at nothing in particular glumly. “What do we do now?” he asks.
“Find a different job, I suppose,” Mór answers.
He glances at her. “Really? What job will that be? Because we had so many offers before this one.”
“I don’t know,” she snaps. “But we’ll find one. We always do.”
“I thought we were supposed to go our separate ways,” he says hotly.
“Knock it off or I’m not healing your leg,” Estrid tells him.
He glares at her, but Senach steps between them with his hands held out. “Enough, all of you. You’re injured and tired. We’ll rest here and then return to Cernna.” Val glares at him, but Senach ignores him. “We said we’d help you with a job, and we’ll still help you if you find another one.”
“It’s not like you’ve changed our luck so far,” Val mutters.
Senach only sighs and comes to sit next to where I’ve dropped. He peels off his tunic slowly, hissing as he pulls on his wounds. Constantín stares at the scars adorning him. I stare at the new claw marks along his back, disrupting the years old scars from his failed first bonding. Estrid finishes healing Constantín before moving onto Val and Senach sits hunched over, his wounds no longer bleeding when Estrid comes for his back. The skin heals cleanly with no scarring from her touch. Senach sits up slowly, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms. Estrid sits next to Mór, unwrapping her hand gently. I am left with my bruises.
None of us move for a time. Constantín even dozes. Late afternoon becomes dusk. Mór builds a fire. The four of them sit together in stony silence as Aedín curls around us protectively. Senach doesn’t move from my side, passing me some of our packed food as the hours stretch on. We sleep between a fire and a dragon, barely a word passed between anyone. The morning is hardly better, Mór barking orders and herding us into walking to Cernna. She has an interesting sense of what constitutes an appropriate time to wake up—so early that even Senach looks at her balefully, but he turns his annoyance to poking and prodding me during the entire walk to the city. Val chooses Constantín as his target as we walk, berating the shorter man for getting attacked as he did. Senach marches ahead of them as Estrid turns to argue with Val, and drags me along with him.
“If you hadn’t promised them we’d still help, we wouldn’t have to,” I tell him.
He glares at me. “You put us in this mess. Not me.”
“I would have kept my mouth shut and let us walk away after yesterday,” I say dryly.
He scowls and storms off ahead of me. I roll my eyes and let him go. Behind me, the others still argue and I turn to them, walking backwards along the path as I look them over. Mór walks ahead of the other three, arms crossed. She glares at me when our gazes meet, a challenge for me to say anything. Estrid looks ready to hack Val to bits, and the slim man takes to walking on the air again. He pirouettes around her, poking her with the hilt of a dagger as he mocks her inability to fight off the gryphons. Constantín slouches meekly at the end of our little group. I look to Mór again as I slow my steps to walk by her side. She still glares at me, until she glances back and sees the others. She sighs, shoulders drooping.
“We aren’t always that bad,” she tells me, quiet enough it won’t carry to the others.
“I assume you aren’t always suicidal and chasing gryphons,” I reply.
“We aren’t as suicidal as some princes, no.”
“You’ve met a prince? You must tell me what that’s—”
“I was born in Dál Macha, Bridei. The tales of you nearly falling from the castle walls reached even the edges of the Lower City,” she says mildly. I grimace as I look away. “Were you truly exiled?”
“Why are you in Cernna?” I ask instead of answering.
She gestures behind us, then glances back. “Estrid!” she snaps. I turn to look. Estrid, Val, and Constantín have all fallen far behind us now as Estrid holds Val down in the dirt, binding his hands behind his back. His ankles are already bound and he squirms, making the task difficult, but he can’t stop Constantín from gagging him. “What are you doing?” Mór asks.
“Making him less of a nuisance,” Estrid replies, hauling Val to his feet once she’s done. He glares at her and Constantín, screaming muffled curses at them as Estrid stoops and tosses him over one shoulder. Her axe is dangerously close to his head and he goes still immediately, staring at it with wide eyes. She turns to us with a wide grin, patting his butt. “Much better.”
“I suppose I should be thankful there’s no fire this time,” Mór mutters, shaking her head as she turns away.
When I turn back around, Senach’s not too far off now. He stands with his arms crossed, head tilted to the side as he watches Estrid whistle and carry Val. Mór says nothing as she passes him. He stops me, holding my arm and letting Estrid and Constantín pass us before he lets me go. I look at him curiously but he only shakes his head. Silence fills the space between us as we walk back to Cernna, but it’s not so bad. I’ve dealt with worse silences from him, ones as cold as the cruelest winter or ones with an anger so hot they burn as only a dry summer wildfire can. This silence allows me to natter away about our surroundings, places we can go to in Cernna, question him about the closest city. He never says anything, giving me sidelong glances every so often and swatting at my hands when I tug at his tunic to examine where the gryphon got his back.
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He should have three new scars from where the gryphon’s claws had him, but there are only the old scars from his dragon bonding peeking through the slashes in his tunic. I run my fingers along one scar. Senach rounds on me quickly, glaring fiercely. I hold my hands up and step around him. But when he starts to walk again, I grab his arm and hold on tightly. He sighs.
“Estrid didn’t look at you,” he says softly.
“Bruises only,” I reply. In response, he grabs my hand and twists it to reveal the inside of my wrist where dried blood covers the long scratch from a talon. “Mostly bruises,” I amend, pulling my hand free and tugging my sleeve over the cut again. “You can tend to it later.”
“You’ll scar.”
“We’ll match,” I say cheerily. He looks so dismayed that I sober quickly. “I don’t mind scars, Senach.”
His silence is more companionable after that. We arrive at Cernna’s city gates disheveled and exhausted, and Senach is quick to turn us towards our inn. Mór watches us go with narrowed eyes before she turns to deal with how Estrid still carries Val over her shoulder. I watch them over my shoulder as we walk away, until Senach and I turn a corner and I can no longer see them. He doesn’t relax once we’re separated, not until we’re in our room at the inn and he’s demanding I remove my shirt. And then he’s silent, staring at the bruises along my ribs.
“Gryphons are heavy,” I say. It comes out as more of a complaint than an explanation.
He runs a hand over his face before disappearing downstairs to bring water and food up. I build up a fire in the hearth, collapsing onto the hearthstones wearily. Senach stares down at me when he returns, before setting everything on a table. A bowl and some cloths are brought over to the hearth and he sits with me, dampening one cloth and pressing it to my wrist. He’s sweetly gentle as he tends to the wound, even as he berates me for ignoring it for so long. I ignore his words and stare at his hands as he cleans the wound and wraps it, then hiss in pain as he immediately starts examining my chest.
“Nothing broken,” he declares, giving me a solid thump to one bruise.
I clutch my side and tilt sideways, kicking him. “Was that necessary?”
“Yes,” he says flatly.
I glare at him. He ignores me to sit at the table and eat. Petulance makes me stay on the hearthstones until he starts throwing pieces of bread at me. He stops when I come to sit with him, pushing a bowl of warm and hearty stew towards me. It’s far better than the meager meal we had by the lake, and I slump against him afterwards, sated and content. His hand tangles up in my hair as he buries his face in it and inhales deeply.
“You don’t smell like honeysuckle,” he complains after a moment.
“I haven’t bathed,” I point out. He mutters something incomprehensible. I glance at his summer sky eyes. “Were you truly that worried about the gryphons injuring me?” His silent stare is answer enough. I push myself to my feet, tugging on his sleeve. “Come bathe with me. We can explore Cernna some more after.”
“I don’t want to explore anymore,” he says, but he gets to his feet to follow me.
“We need to find somewhere to live that isn’t an inn.”
“We don’t have to cook here,” he argues.
“It would cost less to hire a housekeeper who can cook,” I argue back. He considers that, then nods.
The bathhouse is wonderfully pleasant, until Senach questions how much coin we have left to spend. I grimace at his wonderings, more musings to himself than anything else. We haven’t taken the time to count everything we have to our name, and I’m reminded of my foolishly burning my uncle’s letter of introduction. It could have been used to find us lodgings with a nobleman of the city, someone who would want to curry favor with me or my uncle. A lord to simper at my feet and do my bidding. Stubbornly, I don’t tell Senach that he was likely right in that I shouldn’t have burned the letter. Stubbornly, I tell myself that we can make our own way without such help. A prince of Dál Macha is not so useless.
But I am no longer a prince of Dál Macha.
“Who would you be, were you not a dragon knight?” I ask abruptly as Senach and I return to our room.
He bends over, picking a sealed letter up from the floor with a frown for me. “Not a dragon knight,” he says.
His life before the dragon knights is the one thing he’s never shared, but something makes me persistent tonight. “Truly, Senach. What were your parents like? What did they do? Did they want you to follow in their trade?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says distractedly, opening the letter. “Do you know Lord Taran Blackthorn?”
“I do not, and yes, it matters.”
He waves the letter at me. “Well, Lord Taran Blackthorn would like to meet and offer us a job.”
“Why do you never speak of your family?” I ask, taking the letter. I stare at Senach, though. He frowns and shakes his head. “Were they so awful?”
“Yes,” he says simply, and I cannot tell if he’s lying or not. He sighs, shaking his head again. “You don’t like talking about Agathe, Bridei. I don’t like talking about them. Let us leave it at that, please.”
I nod, looking the letter over finally. “Shall we meet with Lord Taran Blackthorn and see what his job is? He doesn’t say how much he’ll pay us.”
“He’ll pay us or I’ll let Aedín burn his home down,” Senach says from where he paws through our clothing chests. He already has clothes for me tossed on my bed, and he picks a gray tunic for himself. His lightest armor is put on over it. I watch him dress silently, raising my eyebrows when he turns to me. “He needs to remember who we are,” he says simply.
I can’t argue that. So I dress in the clothes he’s picked for me, fine things that leave no doubt about the position I’ve come from as we leave the inn. My hair is braided against the day’s wind, and we both wear earrings from Aedín’s scales and feathers. Senach’s armor garners stares and whispers that make me place my hand against my sword hilt. He stares ahead impassively, leading me through the winding streets of Cernna to a dusty bookshop along a quiet street. The shops here sit on top of each other, the bookshop we want resting above a tea shop that smells of fresh pastries. I almost go inside the tea shop, but Senach directs me to the stairs along the outside of the building and up them, to a stout oak door carved with pixies. A little bell chimes as we walk inside, someone hidden amongst the stacks and shelves of books calling out a greeting to us that Senach returns. A slight woman with gossamer wings comes out a moment later, smiling brightly. Senach produces the invitation and she looks it over briefly before gesturing for us to follow her.
As we’re led to the back of the shop, I glance at the books surrounding us. There are romances and tragedies, bedtime tales and grim stories, treatises and philosophical ramblings. Fantastical tales of heroes are bound in gilded leather and I stop at a book patterned with waves and dragon scales, reading Ímar’s name along the cover. Senach comes to my side quietly and I set the book aside, walking on to follow the woman. She takes us to a curtained doorway, ushering us into an antechamber but not following. A man sits at a table in the center of the room, two chairs empty across from him. His brown hair is braided back from his face, more for efficiency than beauty, but his clothes speak of a lord. Lace spills from his coat sleeves and collar, his buttons gleaming pearls. His coat is dark blue, trimmed with silver, and matches his breeches. A sword leans against his chair, the hilt jeweled and shining.
“I’m glad you could meet me,” he says, bowing lightly. Senach’s eyes narrow. “Please, sit. The tea is excellent.”
Senach stands in front of the doorway, arms crossed as he stares our Lord Taran Blackthorn down. I wander around the room, examining the shelves and ignoring the way Blackthorn gestures to the empty chairs still. He watches me for a moment, then pours two more cups of steaming black tea. Senach glares. I hide a smile by pulling a book off a shelf. The leather cover only holds a star and the words inside are in no language I know, but the illustrations are gorgeous. I flip through the book as I circle the room, Blackthorn watching my every move as he drinks tea. Senach never looks away from Blackthorn, and doesn’t flinch when I stop in front of him and slam the book shut. There’s a surprised squeak from the other side of the curtains, then our eavesdropper scurries away. Blackthorn only stares at me. I wait until Senach nods.
“What do you want?” I demand.
“To hire you,” Blackthorn answers mildly. “You have your own little adventuring group now, do you not?”
I tilt my head to the side. “Do I?”
He bites into a small cake. “A gryphon is ambitious prey.”
“You’ve never tried navigating dragon tunnels in the height of their mating season.”
He raises his eyebrows. “That’s . . .”
“Suicidal? Yes, Senach told me so.” I shrug. “We came out of the dens without a scratch.” Blackthorn looks between us. “What do you want to hire us for?” I repeat, tapping the book against my palm.
“A job that will give you everything you need to start a life here in Cernna,” he says.
Senach’s head moves the smallest amount. “Such as?” he asks softly.
“A home, coin to spend, people to dally with.”
I look up as I start walking the room again, setting the book on a shelf. The ceiling is a cloudy dawn, pinks and blues and yellows set off by the white wood of the shelves. “What’s required of us to attain that?” I ask.
Blackthorn smiles slowly. “You must complete a task for me.”
I hate the Fair Folk. I glance at Senach, but his gaze doesn’t move from Blackthorn. His lashes are lowered now, a deceptively relaxed look as he considers the lord. Blackthorn stares back at him over the rim of his teacup. I step up to the table behind Blackthorn, reaching over him for one of the cups he poured. Senach steps up quickly, neatly taking the cup from my hand without spilling a drop.
“Are dragon knights tasters for their sworn sovereigns?” Blackthorn asks.
Senach stares at him as he drinks the tea. I grab one of the cakes and bite into it before he can stop me. He frowns, disapproving as ever. I’ll be hearing an earful later, but the cake is tartly sweet, blackberries and lemon and pine nuts. “What is this task we must complete?” I ask, offering Senach the other half of the cake. He stares at me now as he eats it from my fingers. “And why would you hire us?”
“You have a knack for survival,” Blackthorn says. “I wish to bet on it.”
“Do you? Maybe I won’t let you,” I reply, taking the cup of tea from Senach as I walk by him. “Why should I let you?”
“Do you wish to survive in Cernna?”
I stare at a portrait between two shelves as I drink the tea. The cup is painted with a little green dragon in flight. “I wish to know what your task is.”
“Will you accept my job?”
“We’ll consider it,” I answer, setting the cup down. I pick up another of the cakes before I push through the curtains. The bookshop is as quiet as it was when we entered, though we pass by a pair of ladies perusing the shelves. One of them outright stares at me as we walk by, while her companion vainly attempts to get her attention back by pointedly talking about the book in her hands. She glances up, though, from her book on mushrooms and looks at us. Then she looks again, and stares as her companion does. I grin at both of them. The one with the book frowns. The one who’d stared first blushes as pink as the gemstones in her earrings. She looks away quickly, pawing at her friend’s book distractedly.
The little bell chimes as we leave. Senach follows me down the stairs, then gently guides me down the street. Val appears quickly, falling into step next to me. “So, what did Lord Blackthorn wish to hire you for?” he asks.
“He didn’t say,” I answer. “The Fair Folk don’t like to share all at a first meeting.”
“Mór said the same thing. She was hoping you would get an answer out of him. Come along, we have excellent cider.”