Authors: Ann Hunter
“Who are you?”
The woman only continued smiling. Her nose wrinkled. Glory saw faint freckles across the bridge of the woman’s nose.
“What do you want?” Glory’s voice trembled.
The woman turned toward the closed bedroom door and passed ethereally through the heavy wood.
Glory stepped on to the cold floor. She winced, but padded on, quietly opening her bedroom door. Torchlight swayed against the darkened hall. She caught a glimpse of the specter turning a corner further down the hall. Glory padded after her.
“Where are you going?” Glory hissed.
Just when Glory thought she might catch up to the ghost, it passed through a wall. A nearby door was cracked open. Glory peeked through.
“She
is
beautiful, Xander, but for every inch beautiful, she is three times as vain.”
“Show patience. She has only been here a night.”
The gryphon was pacing, his tail switching back and forth.
“Are you sure Eoghan could not have another, more humble bride?”
Xander sighed. “He that dares not grasp the thorns should never crave the rose.”
The gryphon hissed. Obviously he did not like that answer very much.
“We can not lose her, my pet. She is too valuable to our kingdom.”
“What good will she do us? She is a lot of trouble to me.”
“If we have her, our kingdom will be whole. The people will have no choice but to unite under our reign. No one will argue my right to the throne with a gryphon by my side,” Xander explained.
“What if that is not what
I
want?”
Glory covered her mouth to prevent her gasp from escaping. She backed away slowly, hoping Xander and the gryphon had not seen her. Xander as High King? It was unfathomable! Glory bit her knuckles. Did Prince Eoghan know of this plot? She dashed back to her room, shut the door, and braced herself against it.
Am I only a pawn in a game?
Surely once her father found out that he had been tricked, he would send an entire army to aid Colin in the rescue.
She pictured Colin marching at the head of the force, bearing King Balthazaar’s coat of arms. He would battle the gryphon, slay Xander, and rescue her. The princess looked out her window to the countryside below. She imagined how it would all play out. Colin, shining in knight’s full armor, would place her in the saddle before him and ride home a hero. Balthazaar would be so elated to have Glory back that he would forget the silly betrothal he had made to Eoghan, and he himself would ordain the marriage of Colin and Glory. With Colin the victor, nothing would stand in the way of their union. Balthazaar would deign entire kingdoms to Colin and knight him for his heroics.
Glory shivered. That dirty, old gryphon didn’t stand a chance. He would be slain, and Blackthorn Keep would be overtaken.
Glory closed the curtains and went back to bed. She dreamed of Colin, her knight in shining armor. He would come. She would be free. They would ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.
Glory closed her eyes and pulled the blankets over her shoulders.
Oh, Colin, hurry!
She didn’t think he could ever come swiftly enough.
CHAPTER FIVE
Too Late for Curses
Glory made a point of visiting the gardens each morning before the sunlight reached the center. She welcomed its familiar warmth, but gradually started missing this morning ritual. One day she overslept, another week she felt unwell, and soon the ritual seemed unimportant. The idea that the sun worshipped her was ridiculous. Glory even laughed a little. Once she stopped this silly routine, she couldn’t help but feel punished because dead things started showing up on her windowsill. The first few mornings that she neglected her routine, it was a mouse, then a sparrow. Glory was disgusted and disturbed. The dead creatures were getting progressively bigger with each day she missed. Finally she had had enough. She threw open the window, effectively shoving off that morning’s dead March hare, and screamed.
Birds scattered from the buttresses, stablehands stopped working below, and suddenly the gryphon appeared before her. Glory, startled, bellowed again.
“What is it?” asked the gryphon, his talons digging into the stone, bracing himself against the great commotion. “What is wrong?”
Glory ran a shaking hand through her hair, trying to recompose herself. “I am being punished by the Sun God.”
The gryphon’s head cocked, and he blinked. “Bel is punishing you?”
“Ever since I stopped going to the garden to greet the sun in the morning, dead
things
have been showing up on my windowsill,” Glory frantically explained. “I have surely angered the sun, and now I am being punished.”
The gryphon’s beak ground with amusement. “Those are not dead things, Princess. Those are gifts.”
Glory paced her room, her hands on her hips. “Who in their right mind would leave carrion lying around as a gift?”
The gryphon’s feathers ruffled, and he preened himself nonchalantly.
Glory shrieked. “You?”
The gryphon winced, his talons digging into the wall again.
“That’s disgusting! You great, blundering buffoon, what were you thinking?”
The gryphon reached out a leg, snapping his talons at her. “Have you any idea how difficult it is to catch a tiny field mouse with feet this big?”
Glory threw her hands into the air, as if to curse the gods. “You have got to be joking!”
“It is no joke, Princess.”
“Why in the world would you leave dead
things
as gifts?”
The gryphon’s tail thumped. “Do they not hunt where you come from?”
“Of course they do.”
“Would something larger impress you? Eoghan is concerned you’re eating so little. There
is
a white stag I have— ”
“No!” Glory stomped her foot. “Dead creatures do not impress me, Gryphon. Chocolates, flowers, those kinds of things are gifts. Dead creatures are not gifts. They are just dead.”
The gryphon hissed, the fur on his back bristling. “Flowers are dead things, once disturbed, yet you say you like them.
Ní thuigim tú
9
!”
he squawked with frustration. “What will make you happy?”
“Colin.”
The gryphon scoffed. “Is it not clear to you yet, Princess? He is not coming. Surely he is tired of your pretensions and is only too glad to be rid of you.”
“Do not be so sure,” Glory admonished.
“Can you not see? Open your eyes, Glory. It has been a moon since you first came here. He is not coming.”
Glory’s feet stopped moving. She mentally recounted the days. The gryphon was right. With a howl, she ran to her bed and grabbed her pillow. The gryphon seemed to know what was coming and scrambled to take flight. Glory flung the pillow toward him. It sailed through the window. There was an explosion of feathers. Glory was suddenly filled with a dread that she had somehow injured the creature. She ran to the window and leaned out, looking to see where the gryphon had gone. Instantly she was walloped in the head with a half-empty pillowcase and could hear the gryphon chortle with delight. Glory growled and yelled at him as he flew away. “Curse you, you infernal birdbrain!”
The gryphon hovered in mid-air, the sun behind him, and called back to her, “I am afraid that it is far too late for curses, Princess.”
***
Balthazaar’s steward grabbed Colin by the collar of his shirt and flung him from the room. The door slammed. Colin stumbled into the hall but caught himself. He paced and ran his shaking hands through his hair. With a roar he hammered his fist against the door and kicked it solidly. His nostrils flared. Colin swore loud enough for the entire castle to hear. He stomped down the hall. He returned to his sack of gold coins which he had hid well in the garden. He opened the sack and ran his hands over their shining faces. His jaw clenched at the sight of Balthazaar’s likeness. Colin pulled hard on the drawstrings and snatched up the bag. He began to think. How could he prove the old king wrong?
It was said amongst the Twelve Kingdoms that “All Rumors Begin in Council’s Realm.” It was the hub of commerce and one of the most densely-populated areas in all of the Twelve Kingdoms. Colin thought if he could make his way there that he could garner information on Glory’s whereabouts. Surely, of all places, Council’s Realm would be abuzz with the juicy gossip of the princess’s betrothal. Especially when it had been originated and signed there. But Council’s Realm was a good three day’s journey on foot by the King’s Road. Colin peeked again at the coins in his sack. He didn’t want to spend the coins, save for his future with Glory, but he needed to find her quickly. It couldn’t hurt to spend a few, right? He could hire a palfrey horse. What would take him three days to walk would only be a few hours on horseback. But good horses did not come cheaply. Well, he didn’t want to
buy
the horse, he reasoned with himself, only to hire it for a day or two. He could get Glory back in that time… couldn’t he? Colin rose and squared his shoulders. He hoisted his bag of coins and strode toward the livery. He had to do it. It was for Glory!
The cobbled road thumped under his boots. The stones glistened with twilight spring dew. An old draft horse plodded by hauling a cart heaped with vetch that was fragrant with delicate lilac buds. The horse’s breath plumed from his nostrils in cottony puffs. The last of the stars twinkled overhead as a thin line of fuschia eeked over the snowy, jutting peaks of mountains to the north that they called the All Father’s Spine. Winterholme’s blue-roofed white towers clawed the oncoming dawn. Colin saw none of it. His eyes fixated on the livery down the lane. The blacksmith was just beginning to hammer away at his forge. Horses whinnied impatiently as a livery apprentice accidentally spilled part of a sack of grain outside. Chickens scrambled to gobble it up. The livery master cuffed the apprentice for wasting the feed. Colin winced. He saw himself in the lad’s place being beaten by his own father. He shook his head to drive the memory away. He wasn’t that boy. He had made his own way in the world. He had changed his stars, and he would do so again by rescuing Glory and securing his happily ever after! He approached the livery master with a scowl on his face. “You, sir, how much for a horse to take me to Council’s Realm?”
The livery master, a fat, squat, balding man, squinted at him. His wide lips pursed. “Wait a moment.” His thick hands tucked into the back side of his belt and pulled out a folded paper. He looked at it, then at Colin, then back at the paper. “No. Sorry, can’t help you.” He folded the paper and returned it to its original place and pushed past Colin.
Colin pivoted. “Why not?”
“Can’t,” said the fat man.
Colin pursued him. “Tell me
why
.”
The man produced the paper again and shoved it at Colin.
Colin paused to unfold it and saw his own image staring back at him. Words were scrolled beneath his name. Colin’s lips moved as he read.
“Let it be known that from the day of Her Royal Highness Princess Lucullia’s wedding, henceforth, the young man known as Colin Falconer shall not be aided, sold to, or consorted with within the boundaries of the four northernmost territories. Any violation of this decree is punishable by means found pleasurable by the king.”
Colin’s grip slowly tightened around the paper until it crumpled into a rumpled mess. He threw it on the ground. Lucullia’s wedding was only last night, and the town had already been papered. It had to have been done before. Colin’s heel ground the paper as he realized Balthazaar had known all along. Colin tapped his fist to his chin and thought carefully. There had to be some way around this. The bag of coins weighed heavily in his fist. A smile crept to Colin’s face. He shook the bag, allowing the money to talk.
Jingle. Jingle jangle.
The livery master paused in the open breezeway of the livery.
Jingle jangle jingle.
The livery master’s shoulders rose to his ears. He turned and practically gravitated to the sack of coins. Colin proffered one to him with a haughty, triumphant look upon his face. The livery master bit into the coin to make sure it was real. His thick, bushy, gray eyebrows rose with excitement. His eyes became the size of saucers as he held the bitten coin up against the rising sun. Colin offered another one. “Name your price.”
The livery master clutched the coins. His hand shook feebly. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. He stared at Colin. Colin was sure he had a deal, no matter the cost. He’d soon be on his way to Happily Ever After!
The livery master shoved the coins back into the sack. “No deal.”
Colin nearly choked. “What?”
The livery master turned away. “As much as I like your money, I like my head even more. You keep your money, and I will keep my head.”
Colin’s shoulders slumped.
The livery master walked into the stable and yelled at the apprentice.