She thought it was a cat at first. It had the tufted ears of a feline, and slender, jewel-blue eyes that studied her with that particularly haughty, disdainful look that all cats seemed to be masters of. But then it toppled over and down onto the cushions, and she saw there was a beak where its snout should have been, and that it had…wings. They unfurled, and it righted itself with a few feathery flaps. Its long tail swept back and forth across the cushions, and it was tufted. Lion-like.
A griffin?
She had seen such creatures in books, but never one this small.
Regardless of its size, it had teeth sharp enough to tear flesh—and it bared them in her direction as it swooped closer.
Sephia swatted instinctively at the miniature beast, which snapped those razor teeth in response. Alarmed, she threw a worried glance at the prince.
But rather than alarmed, Prince Tarron looked…amused.
Sephia took a step away from the snapping beast. She attempted a brave, unbothered tone as she asked: “Are you familiar with this…thiscreature?”
“His name is Ketzal.”
Ketzal growled. He lifted himself higher with a few tiny flaps, until he was eye-to-eye with Sephia.
“And are you…are you going to call him off before he bites me in the face?”
“Wouldn’t do any good,” drawled the prince as he walked over to the window and peered out. “He’s notoriously bad at following commands. He’s the only one in the palace that gets away with such disobedience.”
The creature gave a little snort, as if proud of this fact.
Sephia lifted her hand, annoyed by the prince’s indifference and thinking of swatting at the creature again. But she refrained. “Could you at leasttryto call him off?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“He only wants the pastries behind you,” said the prince, still sounding amused. “He’s a bit of a sugar fiend.”
Sephia glanced over her shoulder, where indeed there was a second tray of refreshments resting on the table behind the sofa. It was piled high with colorful tarts and other sugar-dusted delicacies that she somehow hadn’t noticed before.
She carefully stepped aside, her eyes locked with the griffin’s.
He waited until she was completely out of his path. Then, with another throaty growl, he swooped past her and dove head first into the tray.
Several pastries went flying as he dug into them; Sephia had to duck to avoid taking a cupcake to the face. A danish landed in her lap, and Ketzal followed an instant later, curling up on her new dress and proceeding to rip the fruit-filled treat to shreds.
“Messy thing, isn’t he?”
“Mm.” Tarron leaned against the wall, a hint of amusement still dancing in his eyes. The sunlight beaming in through the window seemed to follow his movements, as if he was subtly controlling it, making it highlight all of his best features.
The effect was dizzying to look at, so Sephia looked at the creature in her lap instead.
“But on the plus side,” the prince continued, “like most creatures I’ve encountered, he’s much friendlier once he has a full stomach.”
Sephia picked up the fallen cupcake and offered it to the tiny griffin. He sniffed it cautiously for a moment before opening his jaws wide. In one bite, he inhaled the entire cloud of violet-colored frosting from its top. In the next bite, he’d finished off the rest—paper wrapper and all.
“And now he’s willing to be your best friend, I imagine,” said the prince.
The creature burped in response.
“Oh. Well, nice to meet you then, Ketzal.” Soft laughter spilled from Sephia before she could stop it.
She felt the prince staring.
He quickly averted his eyes when she looked up, as though he hadn’t meant for her to catch him.
“He belonged to my mother,” he said after a long pause. “She found him half-drowned in the Eldon River. Rescued him. His wings were broken—they still don’t work very well. My father insisted we should put him out of his misery, but she refused. She was always doing things like that.”
“She was fond of animals?”
