Sympathy fills his features, and he runs a hand over his shorn white hair like he’s trying to think of a way to make all of this better.
“There’s another Bond Weaver in Tierit— that’s where the Sentinels live in the other world. She’s ancient, so if anyone would know of any other ways, it would be her. I can check with her. Well, if her watchdog, Issak, will let me get near her that is. He doesn’t like me, which is an effect I can have on mates. He’s not mated to Getta, just indebted to her, I think, but still.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I honestly have no clue what his story is. He came over with her when she crossed…it’s an odd friendship.”
My mind prickles with recognition for some reason, and I examine his words, looking for the trigger.
“Anyway, let’s get you set up here and start working with your runes and what they can do. I’ll sneak off the first chance I get and see if I can get in to speak with her, find out if she knows any other ways.”
I nod in agreement at his plan, and exhaustion washes over me. I quickly get myself comfortable and pull the furs up around me. Wekun stumbles toward the bed and falls face first against the lumpy mattress. I swear he’s out before his body is done bouncing from the impact.
I release a weary breath and study the runes on my finger.
“What the fuck are we going to do, Pigeon?”
She pulls her head out from under her wing, swaying like she’s too tired to balance properly. She flashes me an image of scissors cutting string, an X, and me fucking each of our mates in turn.
I scoff. “Did you really just tell me, ‘If you can’t sever ’em, fuck ’em’?” I ask incredulously. “That is not the same thing as if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em,” I scold.
She just makes that chuffing noise she does when she’s amused, and her face disappears back under her wing.
I watch her for a moment as her breaths grow heavy and steady with sleep. One minute she hates them, the next she’s ready to forgive and move on. I can’t even keep track anymore of what she wants or doesn’t want.
They say women are hard to figure out, well, they sure as fuck never met a female gryphon. Talk about taking confusing to a whole other level.
I try to list what still needs to be done, while my body winds down and prepares for rest. I realize that, as difficult as everything has been already, I’m pretty sure that the hard part of all of this has just begun.
I sigh and drift off to Pigeon’s gryphon-porn-filled dreams flooding my mind.
Fickle fucking buffalo wing.
13
“The last thing any of us should be doing is sticking our noses into Gryphon business. Yes, we are obligated to help fix what our people did to them, but even if we have the best of intentions, they’re not going to see it that way,” a female Ouphe from the crowd comments, and everyone gathered in the center of the camp starts talking all at once again.
Several of them raise their hands to be called on so they too can voice their opinions. The middle-aged salt-and-pepper-haired lady who seems to be running the show here calls on a man.
“Even if we wanted to help, how are we supposed to identify which gryphons are good and which are bad?” he asks, and sounds of agreement from people around him rise up into the air.
I open my mouth to say that Lazza really is the only threat that needs to be dealt with, but if I can’t figure out how to break the Vow, one side will be fighting the other side, and this guy has a point.
“We could provide aid and healing to those who are willing to take it from us, but we can’t forget that many of the gryphons on both sides of this fight will happily kill us on sight. I don’t know whether we’d be of much help or more of a distraction,” a younger, pretty female calls out.
I release a deep sigh. I was hoping the Ouphe would be willing to help us, fight with the gryphons, and shore up the numbers against Lazza’s army, but I’m realizing that my hope was really fucking short-sided. I can see the willingness in many of the Ouphe’s faces, to help in what ways they can, but they make really good points about the fact that many of the gryphons who will be there won’t take kindly to their presence. There’s still a lot of work to be done on the front of Ouphe and Gryphon relations and peace treaties.
Wekun and I are leaning off to the side against a cart and watching the Ouphe have their say about what’s going on in the world between the Avowed and the Hidden. There are some gryphons spotted around the perimeter, including Ryn, Zeph, and Treno, but they’re keeping to the outskirts and staying quiet.
“They’ve hunted us to the brink of extinction; they can’t come to us for help now,” a man growls, and low murmurs of assent surround him. “No one came to our aid when we were forced to escape to this putrid wasteland and eke out our survival. Where was Awlon the Dark and his progeny then?”
The man spits on the ground, and I feel far too many eyes turn to me. Hostility ripples out toward where I’m perched, and it crawls up my skin in warning.
“No one person or bloodline was to blame for what happened,” Wekun interjects. “The Ouphe as a collective voted on the Vow and the Accords, and they passed with favor. We are all accountable for what our ancestors did,”
