Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

had to look at the slightly edged teeth to remind herself that this was indeed a drake, not a man. “Your pardon, Lady Gwendolyn. I should not walk with ssssuch hasste. I hope that you were not disturbed in any way.”

She held back the smile that she wanted so badly to display to him. Kyl, for all his perfection, still slipped back into drake sibilance more often than either his brother or his sister. He especially had difficulty when he was in her presence. “And what brings you here in such haste?”

“I come to tell you, gracious lady, that the Manor has visitorsss.”

“A servant could have told me that.” Try as she might, the enchantress could never warm to Kyl. He was always trying to be near her or, more to her dismay, near Valea. The young heir to the Dragon Emperor throne was always good with her daughter, but his constant “accidents,” which always somehow involved touching Gwen, made her worry about the future. It would not be long before Valea was old enough to truly gain the attention of males. In that respect, she was already too pretty now. “You need not have troubled yourself so.”

“These are special visitors, my lady. Ssspecial visitors demand special treatment.”

“Who are they?” She could recall no one whom she was expecting.

“They are clothed so as not to be recognized, but one hasss shown an insignia given to him by the Blue Dragon himself!”

The Lady Gwen ignored the way Kyl’s eyes lit up whenever he mentioned another Dragon King. Emissaries from Irillian? But why disguised, then? “Lead me to them.”

Kyl led her through the Manor and out the front. Any other time, the sorceress would have enjoyed a walk through the grounds. Kyl’s close presence and the mystery of the two visitors, not to mention Cabe’s situation, made that all but impossible.

The two visitors indeed resembled monks more than emissaries. Nothing but cloth was visible, but she thought that the taller of the two had to be the male that the drake had mentioned. The unknown duo stood just beyond the invisible barrier that protected the Manor grounds from unwanted guests and marauding beasts, which sometimes turned out to be the same thing.

“I am Lady Gwendolyn Bedlam. Before you say anything, let me see the ring that you revealed to the boy here.” She heard Kyl hiss quietly. Perhaps he would stop trying to play her now that she had dropped him down a few levels. It was good to remind him on occasion that while he was the heir to a throne, he was also under their guardianship.

It looked as if the one she had directed her demand to was about to say something else, but then he shrugged and raised a hand toward her. The sleeve fell back. The enchantress glanced down to study the ring.

When she saw the hand that wore the ring, however, all interest in the Blue Dragon’s gift vanished.

The hand was covered with fur, which by itself was unusual enough, but then Gwen noted a trace of feathers toward the wrist. Astounded, she looked up. With his free hand, the visitor was pulling back his hood. A dignified but weary avian face had been hidden under that hood. Toward the back and sides, the feathers gave way to fur. It was as if someone had crossed a lion, a bird of prey, and a man together.

“It’s good to see you, my lady,” the Gryphon politely whispered.

She could only gape. After so long . . .

“You have not changed, Lady Gwen,” the Gryphon added when no comment was forthcoming from the enchantress. “Still as beautiful as ever.”

“You . . . You’re here!”

“That we are.” There was something sad in the way the monarch of Penacles said that, but Gwen was still too shocked to really take note of it.

Her head jerked toward the other traveler. “Then, this must be-”

The smaller figure pulled back the hood. Again, the sorceress was taken aback. She had never met the Gryphon’s bride, only corresponded with her. Seeing Troia now proved to Gwen that imagination had hardly readied herself for the truth. She was, as the Gryphon had first related, a cat woman.

More woman than cat, Gwen could not help noticing. Even the cloak could not completely hide the lithe body underneath. Every movement, no matter how small, was fluid. Her features were exotic. Her dark, arresting eyes, so truly catlike, were half-veiled. She had a tiny, well-formed nose that twitched now and then and long, full lips ever so inviting when she smiled. The hair on her head was cut short and went from pitch-black to dark brown. A closer glance revealed that the tawny, striped coloring was not her skin, but rather a short layer of fur that, if the enchantress recalled correctly, covered her entire body.

Seeing her for the first time, Gwen could not help but feel a little relieved that Troia had come here as the mate of the Gryphon and not a single female. Aurim was already too susceptible to the charms of women.

Only one thing marred Troia’s appearance and that was the row of scars on the right side of her face. They did not succeed in detracting much from her beauty, but they made one curious. The Gryphon should have been able to remove them with ease. His sorcery was easily on a par with that of the Bedlams.

She realized she had never finished greeting the cat woman. “I have waited so long to actually see you, Troia!”

“And I you, Lady Gwen.” Again there was the hint of sadness that the enchantress had first noticed in the Gryphon. What was wrong?

“May we enter?” asked the lionbird. “I was not certain if the barrier would still admit me and I knew that it would not admit Troia. Also, politeness dictated that we ask permission to enter.” He glanced at his bride as if this had been a minor point of contention between them. From their letters, Gwen had been given to understand that there were times when Troia could make her look like a shrinking violet in comparison.

“Where are my manners? Of course, you can enter here!”

The duo stepped forward with caution. The barrier had various ways of dealing with outsiders, many of them seemingly of its own design. Having been given permission by the lady of the land, though, neither the Gryphon nor his mate was hindered in any way.

Gwen turned to Kyl. “Kyl, if you would be so kind as to alert someone that we have special guests, I would like some food and drink ready by the time we reach the garden terrace. Would you please do that for me?”

The drake lordling bowed gracefully to both his guardian and the two newcomers. “I should be happy to, my lady. If you will excusse me, Your Majessstiesss?”

The Gryphon tried to hold back a hint of amusement that had dared to rise against the sadness. “By all means.”

With a surreptitious glance at both Gwen and Troia, the young heir departed. The three watched until he had disappeared from sight, then returned to their conversation.

The Gryphon shook his head, whether amused or annoyed by Kyl’s ways, Gwen could not say. “I had not thought about how near to adulthood the hatchlings truly were. Aurim must be almost a man, too.”

“Very much so, although there are lapses. One expects those, however, at his age.” Something had been nagging at the redheaded sorceress’s memory and now she knew what it was. “And where-”

Troia’s eyes widened and the Gryphon raised his other hand in a request for silence. Gwen noticed with horror that two fingers, the lower two, were missing.

“Gryphon!”

He sighed. “I see there is no purpose in holding back.”

“Tell her, Gryph,” the cat woman hissed. “Tell her why we’ve braved pirates and raging sea storms to come to her.”

The lionbird took hold of his wife, who shook as if every fiber of her being wanted to cry out at the world. Gwen’s face went grim; she suspected that she already knew the answer to the question that the Gryphon had prevented her from finishing. Rheena, please let it not be true! Let me be wrong!

“You were going to ask about our son, Demion, were you not?”

“Yes, but-”

The Gryphon, his eyes chilling, would not let her continue. “Demion is in Sirvak Dragoth, Lady Bedlam, his home forever more now.” His voice was toneless. “He died at the hands of the wolf raiders.”