“Is this your family’s shop?”
He smiled as we moved on. “I suppose they are my family, though not by blood. I haven’t any of that variety left.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My parents were killed by draignochs when I was small. Our family farm in the South devastated. I came to the city, looking for work.”
“And the smith hired you? Were you an apprentice?”
“Not a very good one. Spent too much time practicing with the swords. Caught Sir Raleigh’s attentions. Luck aligned. With a good deed for the prince, a wish granted by the king, and Raleigh took me on, training me for the armies I think, but I knew I wanted to enter the tournament. It was all I ever wanted. So last year, I did. Raleigh told me I was too young. That I wouldn’t make it past the first draignoch. When I did, he didn’t take it well.”
Now that he was talking, I found I liked the sound of his voice. He had an easy way about him, calming. Helpful since I felt so lost in this labyrinth. “Why not? I would think him proud if he taught you.”
“It was his title I took. A title he had held for a very long time. And when I won, the king’s favor shifted from Raleigh to me. I was moved into the castle. He was moved out.”
“Was he angry with you?”
“Anger I could take. He’s been distant.” A crease formed between his brows. “I’m not sure why I told you all of that.”
“I won’t repeat it.”
“No. I don’t think you would.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “And you?”
I shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“What happened to your mother?”
“I don’t know, actually. I don’t know who she was.”
Curiosity pursed his lips. “Xavier never told you?”
I shrugged. “Xavier doesn’t know.”
“Now you’re just being contrary. Is this all some kind of secret?”
My eyes lifted to the moon, unsure of the answer to that question either.
“Xavier isn’t your father.” His face lit up as if he knew he was right. “You look nothing like him. Not a hint of relation. And if you’re with him, and not your parents, I would guess they’re either dead, and you’re a foundling, as I am, or they sold you.”
“No one sold me. Although Xavier threatened to on more than one occasion.”
“They’re dead, then?”
A strange knowing prickle tickled deep down inside. “I—I don’t think so.”
“You’ve lost me, Maggie.” He sighed but smiled.
I’d lost me too. Whenever Xavier and I got to a new place, I would ask if anyone had lost a little girl. The answer was always the same. No. And every time, hearing that word, or seeing their heads shake, hurt just as much as it did the first time. I stopped asking and accepted the fact that I was on my own in this strange world.
I didn’t know if it was because Griffin had done so much to free me tonight, or because I never really had a friend, and I wanted one. But I decided to trust him. I told him. Everything. About Xavier finding me. About not knowing who I was or where I came from. About the travels through the Hinterlands and Xavier’s relentless search for magic.
Griffin asked a few questions here and there. What was the East like? Had I been to the North? He’d always wanted to see the North. “Like me,” I told him.
I left out the recent bits, about seeing the draignoch, meeting Jori in the woods—about the strange connection with the moonlight, the magic, because it wasn’t mine. As far as he knew, it was all Xavier.
“I wish I could remember something about my family, but I can’t. Not a thing,” I said.
“I have a hard time remembering my parents’ faces anymore. I can’t see the house we lived in or the lands we farmed. Only the day they died. Something I wish I could forget, honestly. And this draignoch? Why do you want to see it? Is it possible it killed your family?”
I gazed at Griffin. His moonlit eyes looked the same murky green color of a sea turtle’s shell. His parents were killed by draignochs, and we were the same age, so it was a definite possibility. There were many orphans from that time. Parents who hid children in underground cellars and went out to fight the draignochs, never to return. It was a story I had heard from loads on the road. But I had no answer to that question either.
Griffin nodded as if he could read my unspoken thought. “So, you’re just alone, like me?”
The softness in his tone gave me pause. It was a sadness I knew all too well.
“Yes.” Only, riding beside Griffin, I was the least alone I had ever felt.
Another turn and the wind hit us. I shivered and pulled the cloak’s hood lower, getting a whiff of a familiar scent. “Is this Sybil’s?”
Griffin shifted forward in his saddle. “Yes. I told her you looked cold today and she said I should give that to you after dinner.”
“Wouldn’t have expected Sybil to be the way she is. Charitable and all. She’s nothing like her sister.” I couldn’t keep my eyes from rolling.
Griffin reached into the pouch on the side of his saddle and came out with two apples. “Hungry?”
He tossed one to me before I could answer.
“I missed dinner,” he added.
His injured hand rested on his lap, barely holding on to the reins, while he ate with the other. He was in pain. That’s why he’d missed dinner. So no one would see the extent of his injury. A pull in my chest, like a taut bowstring, ached for release. The moonlight seemed to hum, vibrating through me, making it difficult to keep from touching his hand. It was the same instinct that hit me hard at the practice field when I saw the bandage. I wanted to heal him. To take his broken hand and mend it. I would too, if he would let me. But he didn’t believe in magic.
“Sybil said you sent her to escort me this morning.”
“I did ask her to check in on you.”
“Not that I’m not appreciative. I like her. But why did you do that?”
He chewed over his next words carefully. “Because I couldn’t.”
You’re safe, Maggie. That’s what he said to me last night. Maybe it was his nature to be protective. I met many men on the road like that. For every one trying to pull up my skirt, there was another telling him to stop. Not that I needed their help. Most of the leeches ended up like Moldark, with a knife sticking out of their boot. But I appreciated the thought—the effort.
“Is that why you tell strangers you don’t know that they’re safe?”
He gave me a sort of secret smile. “My best mate, Thoma, said that actually, first day we met. The city feels big and scary, but there are good people here who watch out for each other.”
“So, you wanted me to know you were watching out for me?”
“I guess I did.”
Griffin stopped his horse outside a small tavern.
“We don’t have time for ale, Sir Griffin.”
He smirked. “This was my home until last year. We can leave the horses here.”
Griffin dismounted. I did as well.
Lights flickered through the window. The place was crowded with revelers, drinking and singing along with the lute player’s pluck. The sign on the door was a painting of a wilting red rose. I laughed. Perhaps not all in the city were happy with the king.