Page 48 of Ties of Death

Daenn dismounts fluidly, running on silent feet toward the arch leading deeper into the clan caves. A man in full armor, even leather armor, should not be able to move that quietly; it simply defies reason.

I move to dismount too, but Storm spreads his wings, blocking me. He makes a low chiding sound.

“Storm—”

He looks back over his shoulder with his fiercest glare—which from a gryphon, especially one as deadly as Storm, is enough to stop me mid-protest.

Daenn must have told him to keep me here somehow, to ensure Storm could escape with me if necessary.

I dislike that he would try to send me away and leave him without any help. The thought makes me hot and prickly all over. He willdefinitelyhear about this later.

A sharp cry cuts off before it can even truly begin. I tense and look where Daenn vanished.

He’s striding back toward us, sheathing a small dagger as he goes.

He stops by Storm’s side. “I’ve taken care of the men Viggo had watching the eyries, but we should move quickly in case he has anyone patrolling. Storm, you stay here. If anyone tries to escape, stop them. No one leaves this mountain until I say so.”

Storm ruffles his feathers, which shouldn’t be a foreboding motion, but he's a gryphon—so naturally, it is.

Daenn pulls me from Storm’s back, his grip strong at my waist. I steady myself with hands on his chest. Before he can release me and step back, I curl my hands to grip his leather armor as best as I can and I meet his eyes. He’s so close—his green eyes draw me in, and I can imagine leaning forward, pressing my lips to his. He must catch my flare of desire, because his eyes spark and his brows pull together.

“I’m with you, Daenn,” I say, putting my heart into those words. I can’t explain my tangle of feelings to him—I can’t even explain them to myself—but I need him to know this much. “We stand together.”

If there’s a note of accusation for his scheming with Storm, well, that can’t be helped.

He goes still under my hands. Grief stabs through me, hot and sharp, before he jerks it away and buries it under gratitude.

Why is he grieving again? Sometimes I hate this bond between us. It raises more questions than it answers, leaves me bewildered.

Before I can probe about his buried grief, his gloved hands cover mine. “Thank you, my queen.”

The words destroy me, take me apart piece by piece. I have done nothing to earn the title; I haven’t acted in a manner befitting a queen. And I won’t be one for long.

I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin. That changes now. I will be a strong, resilient queen until his magic is purged and he releases me. I will stand by him; I will defend him as he has defended me.

The hallways between the eyries and the great hall are empty, disconcertingly so for the hour.People should be hurrying about, starting their days. With each step we take, tension and worry mount in my stomach, growing until my whole body is heavy with them. Beside me, Daenn carries his sword. I’m not sure when he drew it, but he looks like a man ready to commit violence—calm, focused, lethal violence. I have no doubt he can and will cut down anyone who dares face him.

When we near the great hall, the low susurration of bodies finally reaches us, but there’s very little speaking in the mix of sounds.

Daenn halts at the end of the hallway, just around the corner from the great hall’s entrance. “Is there any way I’ll convince you to stay out here?”

I stare at him.

I feel the sigh over our bond more than I hear it: complete resignation.

“Stay behind me, Emi.”

I give him a nod; that I can do. I’m not a warrior. I’ll happily let him carve our path with his sword.

His gaze sweeps over my face one more time, like he’s trying to drink me in before it’s too late, and for a moment I lean forward, an unspoken hope twisting through me—but then he’s turning away. I exhale and put away my disappointment. I’m not even sure what I hoped for. It’s not like Daenn was going to kiss me. The man won’t even let our skin touch. And I shouldn’t want him to. Not touch me. Not kiss me. That’s so far from what I want. I want to leave; I want to be free.

Yes. That’s… that’s what I want. Such a sparkling future. All alone.

I start after my husband, snuffing out my misery and replacing it with anger. Until we’ve dealt with Viggo and his greed, what I want is inconsequential.

The doors to the great hall are open. The two guards to either side wear the colors of the South Peak Clan. They must be so bored that they’re falling asleep on the job; it’s the only reasonable explanation for why neither of them even stirs until Daenn is nearly upon them.

They scramble upright, though, when it’s clear he has no intention of stopping, and they drop their spears to block his path.

---