Rhyan nodded, his fingers dancing against my palm. “We stay together.”
Dario and Aiden stopped talking, and began descending from the gryphon, motioning to the growing presence of the soturi who surrounded us.
“Do not admit anything to him, okay? He knows we were on Gryphon’s Mount—he knows we were at the tomb—Dario will have reported us. But everything else that has happened since—including that you have magic now and that you can—” His eyes dipped to my heart, his mouth tight. “He can’t know.”
I nodded, my eyes darting to Dario.
“He …” Rhyan looked pained over what he had to say next. “He won’t just hurt you. He’ll find pleasure in it. Don’t show strength. Be meek. The more of a threat he sees, the harder he’ll work to break you.”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t he already know that I’m Asherah?”
Rhyan’s eyes closed slowly, and he winced. His father had never said the words directly, but he’d told Rhyan once I’d have a dangerous power that needed to be controlled. If he knew that, what were the odds that he also knew Rhyan was Auriel? I suspected that was the true reason he’d kept him alive all these years, the real reason he wanted him back.
“We can’t help what he knows,” Rhyan said. “But we certainly won’t offer confirmation. Nor will we give him anything more.”
I nodded.
“Hey!” Dario yelled. “Enough.”
I made a point of snapping my mouth shut as I glared at Dario.
He sneered, pulling his dark curls off his face and tying them back with a leather strap. The echo of boots marching across the courtyard sounded, and I braced myself.
But instead of the violent hands of a soturion hauling me to the ground, a rough, elderly voice, thick with a Glemarian accent shouted. “Rhyan? L-Lord Rhyan? Is it you?”
Rhyan stilled, his face even paler than before as he turned to look at the elderly man. He wore dirty gray coveralls, and had marched straight through the wall of soturi standing guard. He carried a large bucket with the distinct scent of raw meat clinging to it.
“Artem,” Rhyan rasped.
“The hell happened?” Artem shook his head. “You weren’t supposed to come back,” he said quietly.
“Artem,” Dario reprimanded. “We sent for you to attend to the gryphon, not make small talk. It’s too fucking early.”
“Aye, well, maybe choose a different time of arrival,” he snapped. “Lord Dario.” He lowered his chin and slapped his knee. Moving toward the gryphon’s head, he cooed, calling him a good boy before he laid down his bucket. “Poor beast,” he muttered, his hand gentle on one of the injured wings. But his eyes were on Rhyan as he asked softly, “What happened to him?”
The gryphon flattened himself to the ground and eagerly attacked his breakfast.
“Akadim,” Dario said, securing the gryphon’s rope to an anchor.
“He’s hurt,” Artem said, his eyes still on Rhyan, and full of sympathy.
“The gryphon is,” Dario said pointedly. “Hence why you were sent for.”
Rhyan’s breath came out ragged, watching the old man.
“You know him?” I asked Rhyan quietly.
His throat bobbed and he nodded. “Stables master,” he muttered. “Taught me how to work with gryphons—with all the animals.”
Artem returned to the gryphon’s face, running a soothing hand over his beak. A wave of sadness washed over me as I realized everything Rhyan had lost. His home, his family and Ka, his friends, his teachers.
I squashed the thoughts as the sentries began pulling us off the gryphon to the ground.
“Hey,” Rhyan shouted. “She’s bound, she’s no threat to you.”
“Fuck off.” The soturion gripping me squeezed my arm even tighter.
My eyes burned, but I kept my head up straight.
