Zaydon
I rose at first light, every muscle protesting as I peeled myself from the warmth of the bed and Az's soft, rising chest. Minutes later, the door creaked shut behind me, and a rush of frigid air slammed into my face. My boots sank into a fresh blanket of snow, each step releasing a sharp, hollow crunch. A bitter wind cut across the streets, ice-laden gusts stinging my cheeks and turning my breath into quick clouds.
Ahead, the stables loomed, dark wood slick with frost. Beyond them, the paddock lay in the center of a field glazed white, the ground so cold it seemed to have frozen the very air. Skeletons of trees ringed the enclosure; their brittle branches groped at the overcast sky, each twig tracing jagged lines against the gray dawn. To one side, a squat cottage stood half-buried in snowbanks, its windows dark and no doubt belonging to the beast keeper.
Within the paddock, a raw screech ripped through the morning hush, clashing with the hollow echo of ice settling on wood. The gryphon's feathers, a blend of midnight black and molten silver, were stiff with frost. It reared against the thin straps of its saddle, talons gouging frozen earth as the leather groaned under tension. The beast keeper, bundled in furs, heaved against the saddle's buckles, muttering curses in rough Gaelic that didn't need translation to know he was frustrated.
"This gryphon would make an excellent meal if it doesn't stop that relentless screech," Shade rumbled in my mind, his voice a low purr of hunger and amusement.
I wanted to agree, but I'd come here for Az, because she wanted this creature, and because I needed it. I reminded myself this creature had wings—wings that would carry Az home, not her home but my home...to Arkan. She would never consent to a detour on horseback. We still had to reach Rola and meet Prince Samuel Roylan before the solstice, and without flight, horses alone could never cover the distance in time if I wanted to take this detour.
The gryphon snapped its beak at the keeper's hand, a spray of frostflakes drifting from its throat. Its black-and-silver plumage puffed where the cold had settled, each feather tipped with ice.
A hiss escaped its throat, a sound caught between a growl and a scream, vibrating through the air.
I kept my voice low, teasing in my head. "I thought you liked it, Shade?"
A disdainful scoff echoed in my mind, prickling along my spine. "That was before every dawn became a symphony of torture," he snarled. "I am not a morning creature, and that noisy meat is pushing my patience past its limit."
I forced a smirk, breath freezing on my lips. The gryphon's golden eyes glinted with challenge, its talons scraping the packed snow.
"Poor baby," I said to him, shifting my weight so I could shake off the cold bite. "Why not help, then? Something is clearly wrong if it refuses to be saddled." My words held a teasing edge, meant to rile Shade.
The wind tugged at my cloak, and I swept a flap of hair from my eyes. "The sooner we figure this out, the sooner you can enjoy some peace and quiet."
Silence followed for a heartbeat, broken only by the gryphon's low rumble in warning.
I imagined Shade's reptilian eyes narrowing, an expression he wore when annoyed, and chuckled. The beast keeper shot me a strange look, confused since it only seemed like he and I were here in the paddock, to him at least.
"I am an ancient being, boy. You think yourself clever, but compared to me, you are as helpless as a hatchling. I know you seek to provoke, so I give you answers." Shade growled.
I squared my shoulders. "Come on, Shade. You know things, or at least you usually do. Az has been marked, and time is against us. If she doesn't get to Arkan quickly, the bond is incomplete, and her mission hangs in the balance. Help me figure out what's wrong with the creature."
Shade was silent for a breath.
Then came his rasping question: "What's in it for me?"
I exhaled sharply, frustration coiling in my chest as I continued to simultaneously reason and protest with him. "Shade, I don't like leaving her at that inn. We can't afford more delays. Tell me how to calm this beast."
He huffed, a sound like hot embers being stirred within my mind. "I want to speak with her. Let me take control afterward, or I will listen to this insufferable screech until the solstice itself."
My heart thudded. I refused. Not now, not when things were finally... good with Az. If Shade showed himself too soon, she might hate me again. I clung to the hope she gave me, fragile as a single flame in a blizzard.
"She's mine, too. Let her know me, Zaydon," Shade insisted, softer now. He never used my name unless he wanted my attention. "Give her a reason to understand all parts of you, or there is no point in taking her home."
I let my body slump against the cold air. He was right, of course. But I trembled at the risk of losing her trust. "Fine, but you swear you will not lose control. I will not let her see a full shift until she understands everything."
"You have my word," he promised, each syllable a weight that settled over my mind.
I turned back to the gryphon. "Deal, so, what's the problem?"
His answer came without delay. "The down feathers on its back have just been replaced by adult plumage. That patch is sensitive. Ask the keeper for extra padding and a thicker saddle blanket."
I relayed the instructions to the beast keeper. Relief softened his features as he dashed into the stable to fetch the needed gear. The air smelled faintly of hay and wood smoke, a small comfort against the raw cold.
I approached the gryphon, slow and steady. The moment its head feathers flared, I held up open hands. "Easy. I'm not here to hurt you."
It narrowed its golden eyes, tilting its massive head as if sizing me up. Its breath steamed in wisps, mingling with mine.
"Your new rider is not here," I said gruffly, "but don't think you'll take my place. You're only here... holding the place for me until I can tell her everything."
The gryphon was still young and likely understood little of what I was saying. It padded closer, golden eyes fixed on my pockets, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. A faint whiff of dried meat must have led it there—the same meat I had bought for myself before coming.
"Oh no, you are not taking my snacks, you damn over beefed up chicken," I said, twisting away to angle the satchel farther from its reach. My breath caught in small clouds, each one carrying the scent of pine and cold.
The gryphon's protest rose in a noise that hovered between a growl and a squawk, its beak snapping open in frustration. It nudged my leg with a talon so lightly it barely scraped the leather of my boot.
"Hell no," I snapped, but it only nudged again, more insistently this time.
I sighed and held up a gloved hand. "Okay, okay. One—just one, but you better not bite my hand," I conceded, peeling a single piece of dried meat from the satchel and holding it out palm-up. My fingers trembled with cold.
"Sucker. Just like its soon-to-be owner, it has you whipped," Shade whispered in my head, amusement threading through his words.
I ground my teeth. "Shade," I growled mentally, hatred for his teasing edge flaring in my chest.
His answering laugh echoed, low and smug. "Yes, I know, shut up," he finished, as if I needed telling.
The gryphon sniffed the treat, its chest feathers rising and falling as its breath steamed in the frozen air. With a sudden flap of wings, it lunged forward and snatched the meat from my hand. I yanked back, startled, but felt no pain. Well, at least I could keep my hand.
The creature chewed, each bite echoing like a tiny crack against the stillness, then swallowed. A soft purr rumbled through its throat as it circled me twice before settling into a crouch, wings folding tight against its back.
I crossed my arms, feeling the sting of frost on my cheeks."Damn," I muttered, watching it nibble the last morsel. "You're easily bought."
In the hush that followed, Shade's laughter rippled through my mind, a warm current in the biting cold. Heat crept up my neck and settled on my cheeks as I said aloud, "No one takes me seriously," and shrugged against the chill.
"Nope," Shade replied instantly, his laughter trailing off into a soft chuckle that made my cheek twitch with irritation.
By midday, the sky had turned steel-gray, and heavy clouds gathered on the horizon like a building wall. The air grew still as if holding its breath, and I could sense the pressure of an incoming blizzard. Snowflakes drifted downward in lazy spirals, and soon the wind would whip them into blinding sheets.
The beast keeper moved with unexpected efficiency, tightening the extra padding beneath the saddle and fastening every strap with care. Each buckle snapped into place, and the thick blanket lay smooth across the gryphon's back. I watched the keeper's breath rise in short, visible puffs, his fingers numb but precise. Today's progress felt miraculous compared to the struggles of earlier mornings.
I glanced skyward, noting how the light dimmed as more snow gathered. The beast keeper straightened, squinted into the lowering sky, and then set aside his tools. He dusted his hands on his coat and met my gaze with a nod. "Storm's comin'," he said, voice low. "I'm callin' it a day. Trainin' resumes once this blows over."
I nodded, gratitude and relief mingling in my chest. As he backed away to secure the paddock gate, I felt Shade settle into a softer silence, the gryphon's gentle breathing the only sound aside from the faint hiss of swirling snow.
Minutes later, I finally tore myself away from the paddock, offering the gryphon my last piece of dried meat. It snatched the morsel with a satisfied chirp, talons clenching the treat before tucking it under a wing. I watched its head tilt once in acknowledgment—almost as if it understood—and then turned away, hefting my cloak against the biting wind. Snowflakes clung to my hair in glittering clumps, and each footstep sank into the soft drifts as I trudged back toward the Broken Wing Inn.
By the time I reached the building, the wind had picked up, pushing icy needles of snow against my face. The lantern above the door swung in the gust, casting a warm glow that beckoned me inside. Before I even touched the latch, the door swung open with another patron leaving, and a rush of warm air wrapped me like a cloak. I stepped across the threshold into the soft glow of firelight, the scent of burning pine and baked bread curling around me.
The innkeeper, Mrs. Callen, as I had come to know her, was standing by the hearth, sweeping stray ash into a small pile. Her broom's bristles whispered against the stones as she worked, and tendrils of blue-gray smoke spiraled up the chimney. She paused when she saw me, and a soft, rare smile flickered across her face. Her greying brown hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, instead of the usual tight bun on her head, catching the firelight and revealing hints of copper. The linen dress she wore was embroidered with delicate patterns of thistle and fern, and other flowers with colors I hadn't seen her wear because she usually preferred her plain attire.
"Afternoon, need anything?" she asked, voice gentle as if she truly cared.
I stepped further into the room, shrugging off snow from my cloak.
"No, but we'll stay another two nights before leaving. Thank you for everything." My words came out rough, but I meant them.
She nodded, sweeping the broom once more before tucking it behind her. Then she flicked her wrist, gathering loose embers with a practiced flourish. "It's been a pleasure. You and your wife have been the best guests I've had in months."
At the mention of Az, my chest swelled with pride—and something softer, a warmth that pushed back the winter's chill at my core. I bit my lip, tempted to correct her, but the way Mrs. Callen had so casually said wife stirred something in me. Someday, I thought, it truly will be 'wife' if I have anything to do with it. For now, my heart puffed up even as I kept my tone gruff. "You're welcome," I rumbled.
With that, I turned and headed down the narrow corridor toward our room. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath my boots, a muffled echo in the dim hallway. A lantern swung on the wall, its light drifting across tapestries of local festivals and hunting scenes. Each breath I took formed a small cloud in the cold air, reminding me that although the inn offered refuge, the world outside still howled with snow and ice.
Were the clothes we bought enough to keep her warm? I wondered as I reached the door to our room. I pushed open the door and stepped into the quiet warmth of the room where she should have been waiting as she had been these past few days. But there was no one inside.
"Where is she?" Shade's voice rumbled through my skull, each word a low drumbeat of protective anger.
My skin tingled as scales began to surface along my arms. I forced myself to breathe, trying to calm the rising tide. "She probably went out," I whispered, hoping to soothe myself as much as Shade. "Maybe she felt cooped up."
Shade's growl felt like thunder. "I don't like it."
I braced myself, pressing palms to my chest. My heart pounded in my ears. "Shade, behave, or you won't speak with her as we agreed."
He huffed, irritation flaring. I took deeper breaths, willing my transformation to stall in the face of Shade pushing for control. Sweat beaded where scales pressed against my shirt, and talons threatened to burst free, but a few steadying breaths and then finally shifted into soft human skin.
Then, the collar of the Dragon's Bond constricted around my throat, a sudden grip like steel tightening the burn of my dragon fire threatening to burn me alive, starting to rise. But as suddenly as it had come, it had stopped, and it felt as if the bond was gone, or more accurately, it felt as if it were being held back or blocked by something.
Panic erupted in my chest. I'd never felt the bond slip before. I choked back a gasp, my control slipping.
"Breathe, boy," Shade instructed, voice steady. "We will find her."
I pressed my fingers to where my heart beat in my chest, seeking that familiar rhythm. The steady thrum made it occur to me that the Dragon's Bond was not the only one I had with her. There was still our mating bond. The bite that tied her to me in ways even the Dragons Bond couldn't compare.
In my mind's eye, the invisible line connected to her still pulsed, a lifeline I could still reach. I donned my armor with trembling hands and strapped my sword at my side, the metal cold against my palm. Seconds later, I burst from the inn. I willed my wings into being—skin tearing free in burning, glorious agony as they unfurled. The leathery span stretched wide, catching the wind. With a powerful flap, I launched into the chill sky.
Above the village, only a few figures moved among the snowdrifts.
My heart pounded as I thought, Where is she?
The mating bond suddenly throbbed weakly, and fear had me flying in frantic flaps, my head whipping left to right in a frantic manner that no doubt had me missing crucial clues.
"Let me handle this," Shade said quietly.
I couldn't argue, not when my mind was a mess. My consciousness receded as he took full control. My wings beat with a more practiced ease, slicing through swirling flakes and wind currents. My eyes shifted to his eyes, a deep crimson, and he swept the streets for any sign of Az with a better eye than I ever could.
What if she were hurt?
What if she was dying?
The thoughts clawed at my mind until Shade's calm voice washed over me. "Let go of what you cannot control. We will find her."
He skimmed the rooftops, following a trail of villagers emerging from a nearby temple. He dove lower, cutting against the current of people, seeking the red of her hair like a beacon.
Darkness fell, and the temple doors closed behind the last worshipers. The bonds snapped back into place the moment Az stepped into the open—her hair a flame against the snow. A flood of relief washed through both Shade and me, mingling with guilt and worry.
Our consciousness moved our body in union. We landed with a soft thud, the snow shifting beneath our weight. Our wings snapped wide, the thin membranes stretching until they caught the torchlight. Threads of dark crimson shimmered beneath the midnight black, like veins of molten stone hidden under obsidian.
Az yelped and stumbled back a step, her eyes widening as they took in my form. Her breath came in shallow bursts, each plume of vapor trembling in the cold air. I folded my wings behind me with a graceful ripple, the motion predatory and controlled all at once.
Her gaze flicked from the wings to our face, where the red in our eyes had swallowed almost all the green, and whenever she looked into them like this, I wondered if she searched for me in the red. We took a slow step forward, every movement careful not to scare her, our boots sinking lightly into the fresh snow.
We could sense her heart hammering against her ribs, matching the rhythm of our own pulse. Her stance was rigid, every instinct in her body warring between fleeing and yielding.
In two easy strides, we closed the distance. Our gaze raked over her with swiftness that was honed over years of being in battle, our nose flared as we started searching for any scent of poison or injury that remained unseen. When we found none relief surged through us both in union, a tide that swept away the tension coiled in our chest and shoulders.
Still, she remained frozen, eyes locked on mine as if trying to discern any hint of the man she once knew behind this fierce demi form that bordered on more beastly than human. I felt both bonds pulse at my chest once more—a steady reminder that we were connected once more.
Without a word, Shade lifted our hand. Two fingers slid beneath her chin, tilting her face upward. His touch was firm, the pads of our fingers rough from years of wielding blade and claw, yet the pressure he applied was gentle, as if she were something precious and breakable—something I had never seen him do. Whenever he was in control, it meant death would come to those who dared make me tap into his power.
Shade's voice whispered through my mind, soft and reassuring.
"Steady now. Let her see me, for I am a part of you, too.You know it in your bones, I won't hurt her."
He guided our fingers, ensuring they didn't bruise her tender skin. He lowered our head until our breath brushed her cheek, warm against her cold skin. The night air held a hush, broken only by the distant murmur of villagers and the soft creak of ice-laden branches. Her eyes searched, still searching for me, amid the sea of red that was Shade's control.
We sensed her fear, a faint scent, but it was there nonetheless, and guilt knotted our stomach. We never wanted her to feel terror when she looked at us, no matter which form we took. But it was not fair to expect her to respond with anything but caution when she saw a beast where once a man stood and had only seen this form in situations where control had been lost.
In that suspended moment, the world narrowed to the tilt of her chin, the faint rise and fall of her breath, because nothing else mattered other than the fact that she was okay.
After a moment, together, Shade and I spoke in one voice, our tone a mix of something between ancient and raw as well as protective and pleading:
"Where have you been, my princess?"