The Shadow's heir

Very well. She stood over him, her skin shining like the full moon. Before you died, you were a young griffiner who went by the name of Arren Cardockson.

Arenadd felt a shiver go down his spine. “Why did I die?”

You had a griffin partner who was killed in an attempt on your life, said the Night God. You swore revenge upon the one who had betrayed you, but you did not have the strength or the will to take that revenge. Eventually, you attempted to become a griffiner again by abducting a griffin chick, and were sentenced to death for your crime. You were killed as you tried to escape from prison.

“I fell. .” said Arenadd.

Yes. You were thrown from the top of a mountain as you fled from the city guard. The fall crushed every bone in your body.

“And I died.”

Of course you did. No human could have survived such injuries. Arenadd, I chose you because you were a Northerner who had seen and suffered the cruelties of Gryphus’ people yet had the strength and the wit to resist. You alone had been fully trained as a griffiner and had all the knowledge of their ways that you would need to defeat them. When you were in prison, facing almost certain death, you prayed to me in the dark tongue, begging me to save you. I heard that prayer, and it was a true prayer. And as you lay dying, I sent Skandar to you. It was his magic that made you become the Master of Death. My chosen one.

Arenadd felt strangely blank. “Arren Cardockson. I was Arren Cardockson.”

Yes. But that man is dead now. You are King Arenadd Taranisaii. Kraeai kran ae, as the griffins call you.

“Your creature.”

Yes. Now, do you pledge to do as I have told you?

“I do,” said Arenadd.

Excellent. She caressed his cheek. You have never failed me before, and I trust you that you shall not do so now.

“Thank you, Master.”

She began to fade. Arenadd, listen. I have one final command for you.

“Yes, Master?”

This girl you have taken into your Eyrie. .

“Yes?”

Protect her, the Night God said sharply. Keep her close to you. Make her trust you. Make her worship me, love me. Do not let Gryphus have her.

“I won’t. Master, why is she so important?”

She has a power she does not know, said the Night God. Arenadd, make her mine. Make her a darkwoman. You must do this.

“I will,” said Arenadd. “I promise.”

Good. If she does not become loyal to us-you must kill her.

“Why?”

The pain again. Do not question me! She will give her soul to me, or she must die. You will not allow one to live in our land who does not serve us-this is all-important, Arenadd. Do not let her out of your sight, do not let her fall under Gryphus’ spell. She will be mine, or she will die.

“Yes, Master,” said Arenadd. “Yes, yes, I understand. . I swear. . I’ll keep her by me. I already arranged for her to go through the womanhood ceremony here in the Temple under your eye.”

See that she does so with a pure heart, said the Night God. There must be no doubt.

And then she was gone.

8

Secrets

Days passed, and Arenadd’s birthday came and went without ceremony. Once, years ago, he’d considered making it a public holiday, but he never had, and by now most people had forgotten what day it was altogether.

Instead, he spent the day in the council chamber, arguing with his officials.

Saeddryn, as High Priestess, had a seat on the council with her partner, Aenae-Skandar’s son. Her husband, Torc, wasn’t a griffiner, but Arenadd had given him a seat anyway as he was a member of the royal family. The other seats were taken up-very amply-by Lord Iorwerth and Kaanee, the commanders of Malvern’s army, and a handful of other officials, most of them griffiners.

As King, Arenadd stood on the platform at the centre of the chamber, which had once been reserved for Malvern’s Eyrie Mistress. Skandar sat beside him, powerful and magnificent, with his fur and feathers shining with health and his forelegs adorned with gold and silver bands.

Since it was a formal occasion, Arenadd had put on the crown he usually kept stowed away in his robe, and he stood gloomily and listened as Saeddryn said her piece.

“. . I’ve talked it over with Lord Iorwerth an’ his best commanders, an’ they all agree with our assessment, Sire. The people in the street are behind us on this as well. There’d be no outcry; this would be the most popular move we’ve made in years, Sire.”

“The griffins in our city agree with this,” Kaanee put in. “Many have come to me and asked me when we shall finally act.” He shifted and scratched his head with his pitted talons. “Cymria is ripe for the taking.”

“I see,” said Arenadd. “Iorwerth, what’s your opinion?”

Iorwerth stifled a yawn. “Whatever we do, we have to do quickly, Sire. The longer we wait, the more opportunity we give the sun worshippers to recover. Now is the time when they’re weakest.”

Arenadd nodded. “And what would we have to gain from it?”

“Everything, Sire!” said Saeddryn. “We’re Northerners-we were born t’be warriors, not traders an’ money- lenders! The Southerners are our enemies, an’ they deserve-”

“We must do it to defend ourselves as well, Sire,” Iorwerth interrupted. “The Southerners outnumber us, and as soon as they’re strong enough, they’ll attack us again. Ye know what they’re like-how they think.”

“Iorwerth’s right,” said Saeddryn. “Do ye want to throw away all we fought for, Sire? Unless we crush the Southerners first, they’ll never let us live in peace. They’ll want this land back, an’ they’ll come in just like they did before. Ye know they will.”

Arenadd’s mouth narrowed. “And you can’t think of any alternatives? Not one?”

“There’s no negotiatin’ with Southerners, Sire,” Saeddryn argued.

Arenadd held up his hands. “All right. Please, just be quiet. I’ve heard your arguments now, and you’ve made a strong case. And I’ve been thinking this over for years, long before you first started to petition me.”

“An’ it’s time ye reached a decision, Sire,” said Saeddryn. “Past time.”

Arenadd resisted the urge to glare at her. “I have.”

“Yes, Sire?” said Iorwerth.

The King’s brow furrowed and he breathed in deeply. “I’m. . expecting a visit from the Amorani ambassador soon. He should arrive here in a few days.”

There was a stirring from the others.

“Amoran!” Saeddryn said disgustedly. “Dog-eatin’ heathens!”

Arenadd fixed her with a cold, unwavering stare. “Amoran is a very powerful country, Saeddryn, and we can’t afford to cut ourselves off from the world. You may prefer to spend your time enjoying happy fantasies about the so-called golden age, when we solved all our problems by jamming spears in people’s