Page 15 of My Guardian Gryphon

“We still don’t have word of where Xerxes moved the baby?”

The dragon prince shook his head. “Calliope would move heaven and earth to get that baby if she knew. She feels personally responsible for not getting her out when she got Sochi.”

“It’s not Calliope’s fault.”

“Try telling that to her.”

A half-smile tugged at my lips. “I can imagine the black eyes and the long claws now. Did you attempt it?”

He nodded. “It was a short-lived conversation.”

“I’ll bet.” I gestured toward the street behind him. “Want a drink? I was just about to go drown myself in a bottle of good scotch.”

The Drakonae cocked his head to the side, but didn’t ask the question I knew rested on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he nodded and fell into step beside me. We traveled the few blocks from the center of town to my front door in a matter of minutes.

We went inside, and I flipped on the lights. Walking directly to the bar top, I grabbed two glasses and joined him where he’d taken a seat at my kitchen table.

“A little bare.” His tone bordered on incredulous. “Haven’t you lived in Sanctuary since it was founded?”

“I don’t need much. The table and chairs were a gift.”

Beyond the dining room, I had a worn leather couch in the living room with a stereo system on a rickety table next to it. Other than the bed and dresser in my bedroom upstairs, there was no other furniture in the home.

“What is the electronic thing in there by your couch?”

“A stereo. Hang on.” I poured us both another finger of scotch before crossing the room. I flipped on the stereo, pushed the button, and waited for the CD tray to open. I placed an Aerosmith CD in the tray and nudged it closed. “Humans may be weak and their lifespans short, but their appetite for creating art is immense.”

The haunting notes and colors and lyrics of Dream On spilled from the stereo and vibrated through my house. Mikjáll followed me into the living room, carrying the bottle of scotch.

Sitting on the couch, we drank half the bottle, listening to the music play, one lilting, and memorable song after another. I particularly enjoyed this band and the heartfelt emotion it evoked in my hardened soul. The lyrics spoke of pain and loss and longing that connected with life even now—a hundred years after the band had their first release. Music like this didn’t exist in Veil. Instrumental and ballads were all I remembered growing up, nothing electric based.

Hell, we didn’t have electricity, either, but in a world filled with magick, there were alternatives.

“I like this.” Mikjáll filled his glass again and downed another mouthful of the smooth alcohol. “The beer served at the bar in town is fine, but this—this is what I’ve needed for a while.”

“Are there any of my people left in Veil?” The question just popped out. I’d wanted to ask him since he’d arrived in town, but the opportunity had never presented. Now we were alone. No one to overhear. No one to interrupt.

I needed to know. He’d lived there for centuries. If anyone knew whether mine or Jared’s families were still alive, it would be him.

“You mean Gryphons?”

I nodded, raising my glass so he would fill it again.

“I know the twin cities of Rekar and Resar were burned to the ground and remain in ruins. All knowledge of the Gryphons and Phoenix dissolved with the flames that swallowed their homes.”

Pain seized my chest, a vice intent on strangling my hope. It’d been foolish to hope any of my people had survived. Jared knew at least some of his kind would’ve survived. Phoenix could regenerate from ash. “The Phoenix couldn’t stop the fires?”

“No, and the Incanti Drakonae boasted for many years about how they’d burned the Phoenix and Gryphons from their homes, though they are always on guard for an attack from those that would rise from the ashes.”

“They didn’t rise again immediately?”

“There were no sightings during my lifetime. No one has risen against the Incanti. Not a single being in Veil. The Incanti have spies everywhere and rule with an iron fist. There are no trials. No fair rule. You live and die by their word alone.” He poured me another drink and raised his glass. “To the fallen. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“And for yours, Drakonae, and may the Lamassu bastard burn in Dragonfire for eternity after we make a pincushion out of his heart with the swords Eira and Killían carry.”

“I look forward to it.”

Chapter 6

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