Twenty pieces of gold coin. His entire life’s savings. He stretched his fingers, feeling no pain. It was more than worth it.
Maggie’s touch lingered in his healed hand as he padded softly through the dimly lit hallways. Dread swept through him at the thought of her anger when it came to her draignoch’s death. But wait. Not a draignoch. She called Rendicryss a dragon.
It was impossible to see much in the darkness of the cell, but one thing was for certain: Rendicryss was a different kind of a beast. Bigger wings. Longer, thinner body. She would be a fierce match for any knight in the tournament.
Maggie would never forgive him if he killed Rendicryss, but she didn’t understand what Griffin did. His mother’s screams as draignochs dragged her into the woods. His father calling out for help as they tore him limb from limb. Griffin was alone in the world because of these kinds of monsters. And if it came to a choice between his own life in the arena or the dragon’s, Griffin would choose himself every time.
Maggie had to understand that, didn’t she? No. Of course not. She only thought of herself and what was right for her. He’d risked everything for her tonight, and was she even grateful? She accused him of going to the Oughtnoch for himself! And while that was partially true, he never would’ve gone if she hadn’t asked him to help her. What was wrong with him? Why did he go to such great expense for her? But he knew. Deep down. Because as much as he wanted to yell at her, he, to the same extent, wanted to kiss her.
He groaned.
The castle wakened. Hustling boots scraped against the stone-cold floors. Servants raced to bring food and clean clothing to the many visitors for the tournament. Patrolling guards nodded to Griffin as he jogged the rest of the way, exhausted, confused, starving, and in desperate need of a change of clothes.
Griffin found Bradyn waiting for him in his room.
“I was so worried.” Bradyn set Griffin’s breakfast on the table beneath the window. “Father said you only just returned. Did the horses get back?”
“The horses are near the stables. I didn’t have time to take their saddles off.”
Bradyn cursed. “You didn’t unsaddle them? What took you so long?” He threw up his hands. “Gah! I’ll take care of it. I’ll go now and meet you in the tunnel with your axe before the melee.”
Bradyn started to leave but Griffin called him back. “Wait. Have another bring me my axe. I need you to do a different favor for me.”
Griffin pulled out his money box from the wardrobe and handed it to Bradyn. The boy’s knees buckled at the weight. “Hide this in something and take it to Perig at the keep.”
“All the way to the Bottom? I’ll miss the melee,” he griped, shuffling toward the full laundry basket.
“You said it yourself yesterday. You have no chance of winning. And I really need you to do this for me. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t very important. Life-or-death important.”
Bradyn groaned, dropping the box on the dirty shirts. “Is this about last night?”
Bradyn asked too many questions. “Never mind what it’s about. It’s better if you can honestly answer that you don’t know.”
Bradyn buried the box beneath the clothes. “You go for a walk with a beautiful woman that the prince swoons for, and come back with secrets?” He was too close to the truth. “Let me guess. Perig caught you two. Were you kissing?” He hugged himself and kissed the air with closed eyes, making irritating mewing sounds.
Griffin popped him on the back of the head. “Get a move on!”
Bradyn heaved the basket up. “All right. But that’s sure a long way to go to kiss.”
Griffin shoved him toward the door.
Bradyn’s sarcastic laugh was irritating. “She’s very pretty. Probably worth the prince’s anger.”
“Yes, well . . .” It was wrong to mislead Bradyn, but a romantic stroll was the excuse that got them out of the fortress. If Bradyn was questioned, the answers would align. “The prince swoons for every pretty face.”
Unable to stand any longer, Griffin sat down on the edge of his bed.
“I dunno. I heard he sent dresses to her room. Fancy ones . . . before she even arrived.”
Griffin’s stomach twisted into an irritating knot. “I’m sure Prince Jori has sent dresses to many women.”
“Maybe, but this morning I heard he went to the treasure room . . . for jewels.” Bradyn hefted the basket higher, waggling his eyebrows.
Griffin yanked off his boots. “Jewels for Esmera, Bradyn.”
Bradyn wrestled with opening the door, nearly dropping the heavy laundry basket. “I guess we’ll see soon enough.”
Griffin hurled the boots at him, chasing him out.
The morning went by in a mechanical blur: food, washing, dressing, all in an exhausted fog from lack of sleep. Worst of all, Griffin lost track of time. He was forced to sprint the road from the Top to the arena, almost missing the turnoff for the tunnel because of his sour mood.
The jewels were for Esmera. But what if they weren’t? It wasn’t as if Jori’s intentions were to make Maggie, a common-born woman, his queen. But his consort? Perhaps. What kind of life would that be? Griffin wondered. One like his, where he performed at the prince’s whim.
Only for Maggie it would be a very different kind of performance. . . .
The thought made him boil. Maggie would reject the prince if he made an advance, wouldn’t she? But if she did, what would happen then?
What was worse, Griffin couldn’t figure out why he cared. Maggie was stubborn, and angry at everything he said or did. He had to coax a compliment from her, and even that was coupled with criticism. She would choose that dragon over me!
So then, why was he still thinking about her? It was infuriating!
By the time Griffin arrived at the tunnel, the melee was long since over. Griffin didn’t know who’d won, and honestly it didn’t matter—not like it did yesterday. A spark of sadness ran through him as he stared at the back of his hand, seeing the bones move in perfect unity. For better or worse, Maggie’s touch had . . . changed him.
The other knights stood ready with axes in hand. Oak wore a red tunic, while Cornwall and Malcolm were in brown today. Silas, in his armor branded with a U for the king, prepared to take his turn against a draignoch afterward.
“Sir Griffin . . .” A twitchy boy Griffin didn’t recognize held out his axe to him with hands trembling.
Griffin took it with his left hand. He would throw with his right, but wanted to play a surprise on the people, show off how he had miraculously healed. Prove he was set apart from the other knights—because with Maggie’s help, he was.
“You new to the armory?” Griffin asked the boy.
“I, uh—” He shook his head and ran off.
“He is starstruck, Sir Griffin,” Jori said, entering the tunnel with Maggie on his arm.
Swallowing did nothing to alleviate the bitter taste in Griffin’s mouth from seeing them together. “As he should be,” he jested, giving a slight bow. “Maggie, you look well this morning.”
She wore another new dress, red this time, and a necklace of shimmering rubies. Griffin’s breath caught. Jori may as well have draped her in his family’s sigil.
“Well? She looks well. Is that all you can say, man? She looks beautiful,” Jori boasted. He kissed her hand, surprising Griffin and, by the look on her face, Maggie too.