Page 64 of Crown of Wings and Whispers

I got lost in memories while Griffon finished his cake. Then his brows pinched together and he asked, “What is it?”

I shook my head and laughed. “I was just thinking. It all seems…meant to be. Foreordained, you know?”

He nodded. “Prophecy.”

I made air quotes with my fingers. “Despite what Moire saw. Why couldn’t they just tell us what she saw?”

“Maybe, when we findThe Queevna, we can ask them.”

“Will Wickham be able to find them?”

“Doubtful.” He grinned. “I suppose we’ll just have to find them first. Or perhaps they’ll find us.”

I was missing something. “Why would they want to?”

“Four ancient fairies who agreed to shelter at the home of a DeNoy huntress? You think they won’t be drawn out by the last DeNoy now that she’s locked with her dragon?” He nodded toward my new armband half-hidden by my sleeve. “Believe me. They’ll find us. As soon as they hear, they’ll find us. Unless, of course, diminutive fae are on the list of a dragon’s most desired snacks.”

I started stacking the dishes. “The more time passes, the more unreal it seems. By morning, I’ll be convinced today never happened.”

Griffon stood and held out his hand to pull me out of my chair and wrap his arms around me once more. “By morning, I’ll have you convinced you’ve had the most wonderful day of your life, and it will have nothing to do with dragons.”

“No. You watch. Something will happen to keep us apart. It always does.”

“Then we don’t have a moment to lose. The dishes must wait.”

22

Stealing From A Child

The wind knocked on the door and rattled the round window, insisting we let it in. We didn’t answer. There was no need to maintain my body temperature on my own--adding a log to the fire sent sparks into the air and promised I would be warm enough. The look in Griffon’s eyes promised the same.

Since the beds were narrow as camping cots, we spread all the heavy blankets on the floor, on top of each other, a safe distance from the fire. Sandwiched in the middle of the stack, we finally finished what we’d started in the Fae King’s mountain hideaway.

With as many times as we woke, made love, and slept again, there was no telling what time of night or day it was when we lay near the newly fed flames and watched shadows dancing on the ceiling. We clung to each other as if, any minute, Orion or Wickham might break through the door to separate us.

My new favorite pastime was going to be making the usually composed Griffon Carew lose control. But it went both ways. One look at that mussed hair that might never cooperate with a brush again, and my own control flew out the door like a hungry dragon.

I reveled in the warmth pouring off him and wished I’d been able to keep him with me in that cell, those days he’d held me captive.

“Griffon?”

“Mmm?”

“You never told me…how you knew I was DeNoy. How long have you known? And why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’re asking if I knew when I put you in the dungeon at Tantallon.”

“Did you?”

“No. After Wickham came to get you, I had a long talk with Archer. I wanted to know exactly what Daphne and her moronic men had done to you, and why.”

“And?”

“He said she’d caught you and Wickham snooping around the Fae books at Trinity, and that she’d realized The Covenant had been broken, which to us, signaled the end of the world would not be far behind. In shock, she’d fled home to Bridie’s. And when she’d calmed, she went back to the library to save…four little pages…”

“The bookmarks!” I told him how these four enchanted pages had led Wickham and me to some of the answers we’d sought. “When I asked about the DeNoy, one of them just stared at me. I guess she was answering my question after all.”

“The Queevna. The keepers of memory. The protectors of memory. They agreed to the enchantment so they could watch over our history. I’d never heard of them until Archer told me. It is amazing how much Daphne uncovered. If she’d have stuck around, she could have been a great help…” His voice weakened at the last.

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