I raise both hands slowly, taking one careful step toward him like I’m approaching an animal that might bite. “Wren, listen to my voice. He isn’t here. You’re safe.”
“Are yousureI’m not here?” The voice comes from my left this time.
I spin.
A Fae I’ve never seen before leans lazily against the tree line, inspecting his nails. He’s beautiful, like all Fae. Elegant clothes. Perfect moss green hair. A smirk that makes me want to rip his throat out.
Lord Yelling. So he’s not just in Wren’s head. He’s actually here.
“Talon!” Wren cries, stumbling toward the Fae instead of me. “Lord Yelling’s here.” He points right at me.
My heart drops into my stomach.
Lord Yelling’s smile widens.
“He’s toying with your mind, Wren,” I say, hating how weak it sounds. “That’s not me.”
“My sweet Wren.” Lord Yelling opens his arms. “Come here. We can defeat this Lord Yelling together. Then we’ll be free forever.”
Wren goes to him immediately. No hesitation. No doubt. He throws himself into Lord Yelling’s arms like he’s running to safety, and I have to stand there and watch another male hold him while Wren trembles against his chest.
“Yes,” Wren says desperately. “Yes, we can send him back to the Fae lands, right?”
“We absolutely can, sweetling.” Lord Yelling kisses the side of Wren’s head and smirks at me over his hair. “Lord Yelling doesn’t stand a chance.”
Something ugly and feral tears loose inside me. My griffin has been restless all morning. Protective. Alert. Now he rises in a rush, claws scraping at the inside of my skin.
Mine.Protect Wren.
I step back, because if I don’t give myself that inch of space, I might shift badly and break something I can’t fix. Lord Yelling’s eyes narrow. I don’t bother warning him. I let the change take me.
Bones crack and reform. Magic rolls through me in a violent wave. My body surges larger, heavier, stronger, as fur and feathers burst across my skin and claws carve into the earth. The world sharpens, scents and movement snapping into brutal focus.
Wren stumbles back from Lord Yelling with a startled cry. Lord Yelling’s composure finally cracks. Before he can react, I lunge.
One massive paw slams into his chest and knocks him flat. I pin him to the ground, claws caging him in so close he can’t move without risking disembowelment. My beak snaps inches from his face, a warning so clear even the arrogant Fae should understand it. Lord Yelling goes still beneath me, eyes wide. Good.
For Wren, I’ll go back to the Fae lands.
26
TALON
Lord Yelling thrashes in my hold until I appear in the throne room of the Winter Court. The moment my paws hit polished stone, the whole room erupts. Gasps crack through the air. A goblet shatters somewhere to my left. Silk rustles. Someone yelps. Another person shrieks outright.
I would laugh if I weren’t so furious. It’s as if they’ve never seen a griffin before.
Lord Yelling twists beneath my talons, all snarling teeth and frantic limbs, trying to wrench himself free while I pin him to the floor. The room is exactly as Wren described it, cold elegance. Crystal chandeliers drip from the vaulted ceiling like frozen stars. Pale blue banners embroidered with silver sigils hang between towering windows rimed with frost. The air smells like snow, expensive perfume, and something sweet underneath it all.
It’s beautiful in the way a blade can be beautiful. Sharp. Unforgiving. Meant to cut.
A line of guards rushes toward us with weapons drawn, then slows when they realize I’m not attacking the throne. One of them veers off and returns with a silk robe clutched in bothhands. Good. Because I’m not about to stand in the middle of the Winter Court naked after shifting.
I release Lord Yelling only when enough guards close in to seize him. He immediately starts fighting them, hissing and kicking as I let my shift roll over me. My griffin body shrinks, feathers melting into skin, paws becoming hands, claws retracting as the magic leaves me standing on unsteady legs. The chill of the throne room bites into my bare skin at once, and I take the robe from the waiting guard.
“Thank you,” I mutter as I shrug it on.
My heart pounds too hard from adrenaline and rage and the lingering terror of leaving Wren behind while he wasn’t fully himself. I tie the robe around my waist and force my breathing steady before dropping to one knee and pressing a hand to my chest.
