The Shadow's heir

It took Laela by surprise. “What’s up with you?”

Yorath stirred. “I’m sorry, Laela. But now ye’re a griffiner, a commoner like me. .”

Laela stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. “I’ll tell yeh what, Yorath,” she said once she could control herself again. “I’m gonna pretend yeh never said that. Now.” She stood up. “My room smells of griffin, an’ I’ve always wanted t’know what yer own place looks like. Mind if I come visit?”

Laela returned to her quarters much later, drunk on a mixture of excitement and the rather good mead Yorath had shared with her.

The alcohol ran its dizzy race around inside her head, filling her with a warm and wonderful sense of invincibility and pride. “Lady Laela,” she repeated to herself, several times. “Lady Laela, griffiner of Malvern. Lady Laela Redguard.” She laughed and sped up, almost dancing up the ramps and staircases toward her home, her head full of images of herself flying on Oeka’s back with a shining sword in her hand.

By the time she reached her own door, the rush had worn off somewhat, and drowsiness had set in. She went in and gratefully walked toward her bed, intending to collapse on it.

It was already occupied.

Laela paused. It was too dark to see more than the huge mound on top of her bed-she prodded it carefully, and found herself touching straw. Bewildered, she picked up a lantern and went to light it with a taper from the fire.

Its light showed her utter chaos. For a moment she stood there, frozen in disbelief as the reality of what she was seeing slowly sank in.

The bed had been torn apart. Blankets had been shredded, the pillows ripped open. The mattress had been disembowelled and the straw inside pulled out. The ruins of bed and bedding had been piled up into a crude nest, and Oeka was asleep in the middle of it.

Laela put the lantern down and put her hand over her eyes. “Oh, holy gods. .”

After a few moments, tiredness and the fading effects of the mead fuelled her temper enough to let her put her caution aside. She strode toward the bed. “Oi!”

Oeka stirred but didn’t wake up.

Laela poked the griffin in the head. “Oi! What are yeh doin’?”

A green eye slid open.

Laela took a step back. “This is my bed,” she said. “Yours is next door, remember? Oi! ”

Oeka yawned and tucked her head under her wing.

Defeated, Laela slumped into her chair by the fire and wondered what to do. She was so tired that sleeping in the chair looked possible, so she snuffed out the lamp-thinking that even if she couldn’t, there was no point in wasting the oil.

Her exhaustion notwithstanding, sleeping in the chair proved to be impossible. She sat there in the semi- darkness for a long time before finally giving up and getting out of the chair to pace back and forth, debating internally. Her training was meant to start in the morning, and she knew she’d be useless unless she got some sleep.

Tired anger finally won her over. This was ridiculous. She was a griffiner now; a member of the nobility, and she had been turfed out of her own bed by an animal.

“Gryphus burn that,” she muttered, and moved back toward the bed. She found Oeka’s wing and pulled, hard.

A split second later, she staggered away from the bed, too shocked even to cry out, her arm cradled against her chest. She backed toward the wall, preparing to run away, but Oeka didn’t come after her and she realised that the griffin hadn’t even left the bed.

Blood ran down to her fingers and dripped onto the floor. She hastily covered the wound with the hem of her dress, and watched with a mixture of terror and disbelief as Oeka curled up in her new nest and went back to sleep as though nothing had happened.

Laela ran away through the archway and into the griffin’s chamber. There she knelt by the trough and tried to clean her wound with the water.

It continued to bleed stubbornly no matter how many times she dabbed it dry, so she wrapped it up as well as she could and lay down on her side in the straw.

Eventually, the shock wore off, and she whiled away the rest of the night listing every curse-word she knew.

Morning came in a haze of tiredness. Laela sat up and peeled the fragments of straw off her blood-caked arm. The wound was smaller than she had thought, but it still hurt horribly. She did her best to clean it, and then walked stiffly back into her own room.

If her wound looked better than she had thought, then the bed looked far worse. Oeka was still asleep in the ruins.

Holding her wounded arm with her other hand, Laela crept toward the door. She reached it and took hold of the handle without incident, but at that moment the bed rustled. Oeka’s head came up. Before Laela could decide whether to just run away, the griffin had jumped down from the bed and sauntered toward her, yawning.

Laela did her best to look harmless. “Mornin’, Oeka. Did yeh sleep well?”

Oeka yawned. Her beak made an unpleasant clack sound when it shut.

“Well,” Laela said weakly. “I’m gonna go an’ see the King now. I’ll be back later.” That said, she opened the door and made her escape.

She was barely in the corridor outside when she heard the soft clicking of talons and turned to see Oeka following her. Laela knew better than to argue with the griffin, so she gritted her teeth and set out toward Arenadd’s audience chamber with Oeka in tow.

Arenadd was waiting for her. He was wearing a particularly nice robe trimmed with red, and there was a gleam in his eyes that Laela was too tired and upset to notice.

“Good morning, Lady Laela. Did you sleep well?”

Laela glanced at Oeka. “No.”

“Too excited, eh?”

“Too deprived of a bed,” Laela said sourly.

Arenadd raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Now she was in the King’s presence, Laela felt bold enough to say exactly what she was thinking. “I don’t want this,” she said.

“Don’t want what?”

“Don’t want that,” said Laela, pointing straight at Oeka. “I don’t want t’be a griffiner. She’s goin’ back to the Hatchery today, an’ that’s flat.”

Oeka backed away from her finger, hissing.

Arenadd looked nonplussed. “Laela, what are you talking about? You can’t-”

“I don’t want t’be a griffiner!” said Laela. “I ain’t gonna. Not if it means livin’ with a griffin.”

Arenadd glanced at Oeka. “Why, what’s she done?”

“She took my bed,” said Laela. “She tore it apart, an’ then slept in it! An’ then, when I tried t’make her get out of it, she did this to me.” She held up her arm, displaying the deep gash.

Arenadd gave it a cursory glance. “Is that all?”

Laela couldn’t take it any longer. “Is that all?” she nearly yelled. “The damn thing bit me, for gods’ sakes! She destroyed my bed! I had to sleep on a heap of straw all night!”

Oeka pushed forward and rasped in griffish.

“She said she didn’t like the nest you gave her,” said Arenadd. “The straw was mouldy.”

“She didn’t have t’go an’ bite me!” said Laela.

“She said you pulled her wing.”

“Yes, because she was sleepin’ in my bed!” Laela tried to keep herself under control. “I ain’t livin’ with that thing,” she said. “It’s vicious.”