“In the arena? Are you mad?”
“Entirely. But all that will be holding her are three Phantombronze chains. If I can get you into the ring, you can cut them, and she can fly away.”
“Fly? Over the wall?” It sounded ridiculous.
“Crazy, I know. But there is no other way out of the city.”
“What about you?” Fear lodged in my throat, making it difficult to breathe. “The king’s anger would be extreme.” I was afraid to whisper what was in my heart. And yet, I felt compelled to. “Would you come with me?”
“I would.” He didn’t hesitate. Not in the slightest.
“Just like that. You would leave all of this behind . . . for me.”
He pondered that for a minute. “Not just for you. I don’t think I’ll ever look on a draignoch the same way again after what Rendicryss showed me. I cannot fight for the prince and king. I cannot slaughter these creatures anymore.”
“And all the people you’ve been fighting for—”
“Would understand if I wanted to leave a place full of pomp, where I am always balanced on a razor’s edge.” He rubbed my cheek with his hand. “It’s red and a little purple here.”
I blinked back tears of relief. It was a good answer. A right answer. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Two days wasn’t much time. “What do I do first?”
He lifted my hand, placing it on the broken chair leg in his other hand. “Step one, technique. Step two, grow the powers. You must use your weapon like an extension of your arm. The same way I use my sword. Show me how you capture the moonlight.”
I thrust out my arm, opening my palm. The moon fell, greeting me.
Griffin smiled, chuckling. His fingers clasped my elbow. The light dimmed. “Concentrate.”
I closed my eyes, pushing away the intense draw of Griffin’s touch for the moon’s.
“Better. Hold it. Don’t let it go.” He shifted my arm, turning my palm up. “Take hold of it, Maggie. Like gripping a sword.”
I did, and opened my eyes. The beam had straightened.
“Astounding,” he said. “Pull it toward you.”
I drew it downward, bringing it to me.
“How does it feel? Move it back and forth. Feel the weight.” He moved my arm by the elbow, swinging it. The beam danced along, whipping ever so slightly beyond.
On the next pass, momentum carried it too far. The beam struck his forearm.
Griffin yelped.
I lost concentration, and connection. The moonlight retreated.
“I’m so sorry!”
A spot on his forearm was now sleeveless and blistering red. I reached out, wanting to heal it, but he caught my hand. “No. Leave it. Tell me what you learned.”
“I . . . um . . . its weight is lighter than I expected.”
“Good. What else?”
His thumb brushed the back of my hand, making it very difficult to think about moonlight. “It’s drawn to me. As I am to it.”
“What does it feel like in here?” He tapped my palm.
“It wakes up every nerve, every hair stands on end. Thrumming.”
“Like a heartbeat.” He stepped closer.
I shook my head. “Like a running water. A stream in a drought when I’m so far out of its sight, and a raging river when I’m beneath it.”
He smiled down at me with infectious excitement. He released my hand, the aftermath of which left me much more confused than when the moon let go.
“Very good. Work with that. Have another go, only change up your motion. Grow accustomed to the light’s range of movement.” Griffin moved the chair into the middle of the room. “And when you’re ready, attempt to strike the chair.”
I nodded, already raising my hand. The grip happened faster, the moon encircling my hand in a glowing ribbon. With a hard snap, it struck the floor. Stone cracked, steaming cold, leaving a straight scar.
Griffin leaned on the chair. “The chair is over here, Maggie.”
“Why don’t you sit in it and I’ll try that again?” I smirked at him.
He settled in, wearing his own ridiculous smirk. “You’ll never hit me.”
“Want to bet?”
“Aha . . . what’s your wager?”
What did I want from Griffin? Not monies. He’d lost too much for me already. “Another kiss.”
“That’s unfortunate.” He sighed, my heart breaking ever so slightly. He winced. “That would’ve been my wager too. How about we cannot share another kiss until you hit the target?”
My cheeks burned. “You better get up, then.”
I spent the next few hours trying, adjusting stances, holds, finger positions. Black lines scarred the floor in a repeating pattern. The temperature in the room fell to frigid, a wintry tundra, making our breath visible. Griffin had wrapped a blanket from the bed over his shoulders at some point.
“Again,” he ordered, his teeth chattering.
My arm ached. Another try and it would fall off, but I wasn’t giving up. The last missed by less than a knuckle’s width.
And I had another idea.
I gripped the moon, then pulled, whipping it from the side rather than over my shoulders. The beam sliced through the wooden back like a freshly sharpened knife on brisket.
“I did it!”
Griffin moved across the room, sweeping me off my feet. Then we were kissing. Like in the barn, but less hurried. I could think of nothing, except never wanting to stop.
Except . . . “I should do that again.”
“Until your arm falls off.”
By the time the dark skies faded to purple, and Griffin left through the passageway under the bed, I had cut the chair to kindling. One move. A sideway whip. With one more day to rehearse this performance, I prayed it would be enough.
Griffin’s scent lingered as I went about stacking broken furniture bits beside the fireplace. I climbed into bed, thinking of Petal and how I missed knowing she was behind the screen. I turned on my side to gaze out the window at the moon, taking comfort that perhaps, just maybe, another was watching over me.
Sixteen
Griffin
The next day came too quickly. Griffin walked with Malcolm to the tunnel, listening to him worry over his brother having to fight a draignoch for the first time.
“I know you don’t like him, Griffin. Hell, I think he’s little better than a runny-nosed brat. But he’s my brother,” Malcolm mused. “It’s my job to protect him. I need him to drop out, and I need you to help.”
When Griffin said nothing, Malcolm played his last card.
“Family is everything,” he said.
“I wouldn’t know,” Griffin answered, because he had none.
“I know. And I know how they died,” Malcolm said, nodding an apology. “I’ve tried speaking with him. But I might as well be talking sense into a pile of rocks. He doesn’t act like it, but he respects you, Griffin. More than most. If you tell him—”
“Tell him what? That he won’t be disgraced in dropping out? He will be. I would be lying.”
Malcolm turned as crimson as his hair. “What matter is that? At least he would be alive.”
Griffin sighed. “Would you drop out, Malcolm? After so much boast. It would take more courage to endure that than facing the beast.”