Page 7 of Crown of Wings and Whispers

I scanned the walls, the shelves for any hint of his childhood. “No old toys? No old yearbooks? I was hoping to find out more about the young Griffon Carew.”

“My youth wasn’t spent here. Same with Archer and Daphne. My father had many wives, but Bridie is the only stepmother we cared for. Though we were full grown, she insisted on treating us like her own children, despite her youth when they married. She gave us a place to call home. None of the others bothered with us.”

“I see.” I tried to keep my tone neutral, but something caught his attention and his eyes narrowed.

“What is it?”

I decided to be honest. “I don’t know why, but I…I had it in my head that your mother was…a mortal.”

“And that made you happy?”

“I don’t know. I guess it did.”

“My motherwasmortal. Most of my father’s wives were.”

I cheered up immediately, but I wasn’t going to confess that it gave me hope that someone like him could commit to someone like me. But then again, I wasn’t a mere mortal anymore.

Griffon rolled his eyes and wagged his head. “You think too much.”

“Is your mother still alive?”

“No. My father never divorced. Maybe that’s why he married mortals, so he could get a new wife every seventy or eighty years.”

I realized he was teasing me and laughed. “Every seventy or eighty years? Just how long is the life expectancy of a Fae?”

His brows bobbed. “Biblical.”

“No, really.”

“Yes. Really. I don’t know any of us who died of natural causes, so I can’t say how long the average Fae lives.”

I didn’t dare ask how old he was, preferring to think of him as ageless instead of ancient. “How old was…your sister?”

“A young two-hundred and…” he tapped his lip a few times, “twenty-three. Archer is five less than that. They had the same mother, but they chose to use the Carew family name.”

“And where do you fall?” I could have kicked myself for asking, but it just slipped out.

“Eldest, from four wives earlier.”

I forced myself to swallow and tried to act like I could totally handlebiblical.“So, did your biological mother die of old age?”

“If you want to know my age, Lennon, ask me.”

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out, then shook my head. “I…don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Youdisappointme?”

“I’m just getting used to the whole winged savior thing. My reaction might not be…reasonable.”

“Four hundred and eight.”

I gasped, then laughed. When I started sounding hysterical, the worry on his face made it easy to stop. “Four hundred and eight? You’re a baby.” It was a lame attempt to make up for the laughter, and I could tell his feelings were hurt. “See? I knew I’d disappoint you.”

He scoffed. “I think it is you who are disappointed. No doubt you’ll reconsider kissing an old man.”

“I don’t know.” I stood up and started pacing in front of him, looking him over like a promising piece of horseflesh just arrived at the racetrack. “How old do you think…. someone like me…might live? Maybe four-hundred years is nothing.”

In a split second, he was off the bed. He grabbed me and laid a hand over my mouth, then shushed me just before his lips pressed against mine. It wasn’t his attempt to keep me quiet though. After a minute, I realized he was testing to see if I really might push “an old man” away. I couldn’t possibly be the one to end the kiss without hurting him seriously, no matter how long it lasted.

---