Which is a shocking realization that I’ll need to come to terms with later, assuming I’m still alive to do so.
Ronan creeps slowly along the stream bank. He keeps his hands out in front of him, miles away from his weapons. Taran and I sink back down behind the rock. I don’t draw my bow in case it frightens the griffin with Ronan so close to it, but I reach for my power, my shadows. I don’t know if I can make them take form again, but eagles are active in daylight. I doubt griffins, with their eagle eyes, see well in the dark.
“I can make the water rush,” says Taran, pointing to the stream below us. “If he stands on the shore, it might be enough to take her off her feet or to make her take flight.”
Taran is water-born, then. That’s unexpected. I’d been guessing fire, although his adaptable, patient nature should have given me a hint, I suppose.
We wait, watching as Ronan slowly approaches. At one point, she stirs and cuts a large scratch into the gravel that goes all the way to the sand. She looks ready to charge. “Wait!” Ronan calls back just as Taran starts to raise the water and I begin to lower the canyon into darkness.
The griffin stands still.
“She’s fine, aren’t you, girl? Just a little closer.”
This may be the most anxious I’ve felt since I arrived in Selara. I’m losing my mind watching this man, this man I swore to kill and am now struggling to imagine living without, approach a beast that can take him out in one fell swoop.
My stomach is in my throat as he closes the final feet between him and the deadly creature. She backs away suddenly, maybe five feet back, and lets out a loud, low screech.
“Ronan!” I cry. “Just let her go. We’ll tell the others we didn’t find her. You don’t need to do this for me. She’s scared.”
Godsdammit, I want him to get back here. Maybe I could pull him back with my shadows.
Ronan bends low, showing her his neck. “She’s scared, but she wants me to approach her. Trust me, Sylvie.”
I shake my head, my heart pounding in my ears, as he reaches for the griffin. I can barely look. Maybe he’ll get lucky and she’ll only take his hand off. He could live without a hand if he could heal himself with his magic.
When I found out I was meant to kill Ronan, I imagined it would be a difficult undertaking. A dangerous game of cat and mouse, racing to keep one step ahead of him, searching high and low for a weakness, for any opportunity to strike.
If I’d known he would voluntarily put himself in situations in which he could be killed repeatedly, even against my strongest urging, I wouldn’t have worried so much.
Except that now I no longer want him to die, and he’s making it very difficult to stop him from doing so.
The griffin inches closer. She stalks forward with feline grace, her body lowered near to the ground in position to strike.
If he dies right now, I’m going to kill him.
The griffin waits a couple of feet from Ronan, as still as a statue. He flexes his hand in her direction in invitation.
And then, to my absolute astonishment, she lifts her head forward to meet his hand.
“Hello, sweet girl,” he says as he lightly brushes her feathers. “I’m Ronan.”
Taran and I look at each other in disbelief. He’s talking to a damn monster.
“It’s alright,” he calls back. “She’s calm now.” He looks at her again. “Can they approach you? They’re my friends.”
Who is this man? This is supposed to be the tyrant ruling with an iron fist. The man who starved Nithyria, who stole our lands and ground us down to nothing as punishment for the war.
How did I ever believe that? How doesanyonebelieve that?
“Come on,” he calls. “I’ve made a friend.”
The griffin paces around Ronan, sniffing at him and nudging at his clothes. I’m not as certain as he is that she isn’t tryingto find which parts of him to tear apart first, but I’ll admit that there is a certain level of curiosity in her intelligent eyes.
“Nope,” says Taran. “I’m fine right here.”
“Sylvie?”
I hesitate. I know he’s done this for me because I thought about riding her. And, I admit, there’s a part of me that’s curious. I wonder if anyone has ever ridden a griffin before. I can’t remember reading about it. I wonder if anyone ever even thought to try.
