Page 22 of Ties of Death

He lifts me so I can swing my leg over Raindrop’s back with ease, and he’s slow to release, ensuring I’m fully settled before he does so.

“Thank you,” I murmur, my body warming in a way that makes it hard to look at him. The crowd parts once we’re both mounted, clearing our way for flight, and without any more preamble, Storm and Raindrop break into runs and push off right at the edge of the cliff, snapping their wings out and soaring up. I dig my fingers into the feathers in front of the saddle.

My breath is stolen by the wind, and my heart soars like our gryphons. I’ve never gotten to fly as much as the warriors, but I love flying, and I let myself savor that feeling as we soar away from the clan mountain.

13

A Sudden Ache of Longing

Iam saddle sore after a day of flying. But, oh, it’ssonice being saddle sore from flying with a gryphon versus the mundane horse saddle sore I became familiar with while married to Tolomon.

Regardless, I’m in a wonderful mood, despite how my body aches.

Storm and Raindrop land in a small clearing near a stream. The terrain is familiar. Oak trees, cedars, and a few mesquites with their twisted thorny branches surround us.

We’re in the lowlands, although far south of Verksland already. The terrain is familiar, but it’s a bit greener, a bit more humid. I can still see the mountain range our clans reside throughout in the distance, but our mountain is long out of sight.

We have one more day in our journey. One more day until we reach the edge of the jungle and the temple.

I’m not the only one in a good mood as we dismount. Daenn offers to help me down, but without a crowd of onlookers, I care less about landing on my rear, so I just jump down and smirk athim.

There’s a lightness about him that reminds me ofbefore. Like he left most of the weight of ruling back with the clan and, with it, some of that darkness that’s lingered since he stole me away from Tolomon.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but as he goes about setting up our camp, he feels more like my Daenn. It makes it easy to fall into step beside him, to work together to erect a tent, collect firewood, haul water, and tend to the gryphons.

He’s still brushing down Storm’s flanks when I finish with Raindrop, so I start digging into the saddlebags for our rations. I hope they gave us things that don’t require complicated cooking… or, ideally, any cooking. Neither of us were ever very good at it when we were younger, and for me, at least, marrying Tolomon didn’t exactly give me ample opportunities to practice.

When he notices me pulling food out of the saddlebags, Daenn’s brows raise. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting supper.” I don’t say ‘obviously,’ but I know he can hear it in my tone. He shifts closer.

“Did you acquire a new hobby while in the lowlands? Pick up a few new skills?”

I can’t help it—my mouth twitches at his questions, at the concern that lurks behind each word.

“I acquired many new skills,” I say blithely, meeting his eyes. “Perhaps if you’re nice, I’ll teach you some of them.”

Shock plays over Daenn’s face, and a sudden ache of longing snaps through me.

My eyes widen as I realize exactly how that sounded. My entire face heats, and my chest does too, and the silver tattoo tingles. I look down, returning to my task of pulling out food. Dried, pre-prepared soup things—all I need to do is throwthem in our single pot with water. Should be simple enough, right?

Daenn clears his throat, and I’m intensely grateful he pretends like I didn’t say what I just said. “What I’m hearing is that you willnotbe showing me one right now, which means that you should step away from the supper preparations if we want to actually have anything to eat tonight.”

I snort. “As if you could do any better. Go back to grooming your gryphon, and leave me to make supper in peace.” I pointedly turn away from him.

“No,” he draws out the word.

I can hear him coming closer. I scramble to scoop up the waxed bag holding the food and the pot and scurry away, but Daenn is on me before I’ve gone two steps, reaching around me to grab the food. He plucks it from my hands and retreats as I whirl back around, chasing him to retrieve my stolen goods. He’s like a dancer, spinning and weaving out of my reach.

He nears a fallen branch, and I see an opportunity. I lunge.

His eyes widen; he steps back, tripping on the branch. He catches himself from falling from the stumble, but it leaves him no time to react to my assault: I bowl into him, and we both go down. I laugh, grabbing at the supper things—

And then I’m dumped backward. Daenn is scrambling across the ground away from me, chest heaving.

I stare dumbly at him. We’d been playing, I thought. So why is my chest tight? My hip aches slightly from landing on it, and my left arm burns along the tattoo. Why does Daenn look like he’s barely dodged a killing blow?

He’s on his feet in another instant, and he’s pulling his gloves from a pocket and tugging them on with jerky movements. I hadn’t realized he wasn’t wearing them.

---