Page 99 of Griffin Food

Here I find a shorter corridor, a decadent bathing room that is clearly for Atlas himself, and finally, at the end of this corridor, another room.

The moment I step inside, I know that this is the one. It’s a smaller, more intimate space, with soft, lush carpeting beneath my feet and a small balcony carved into the mountainside. A long couch lines one wall, along with an occasional table and two plump wingback chairs in burgundy velvet that I could see myself snuggling on with a book.

The center of the room has a notable space. One that all but demands to be filled with a nest.

My smile softens at the nesting material stacked against one wall, along with a chest… almost like he knew I would pick this room… The latch on the balcony door yields to my fingers.

Lark yips.

Ignoring him, I step out. The air is sharp and cold, though the balcony, hewn from the mountain itself, is sheltered from the wind. The stone beneath my feet is solid, with a wrought-iron railing at the edge.

Lark issues a low warning growl and nudges me away from the railing.

“This is safe,” I say. I imagine it is stunning here in summer and offers the perfect view of the eyrie’s highest entrance, the one the griffins use when they take off for their patrols.

To my left, the widening of the balcony provides the perfect platform where a griffin might land. Perhaps another omega stood here once, waiting for her lover to land on the balcony so that she might welcome him into her nest.

I’m distracted from my musing when Lark grips the back of my dress in his teeth and hauls me toward the door.

“Fine, I was coming in, anyway!”

He drops me to the floor once inside. I glare at him as I get to my feet. I close the door and feel the warmth immediately, which is curious, for there is no fire in here. My hand goes to the polished stone wall beside the window.

“It’s warm,” I say, smiling. Not hot, but just a pleasant kind of warmth.

The room is perfect. There are fitted shutters at the windows, so I may close them if I choose. For now I leave them open, letting the sunlight spill in.

Time to make a nest.

I go back to the pile of fresh nesting material and the small chest that sits beside it. I drop to my knees before them, only now noticing a small card resting on the top of the chest.

For Violet.

I turn to Lark, who has sat beside me to watch. “I guess this must be for me.”

Curious, I lift the lid and then gasp.

My fingers tremble as I lift out my diary from where it nestled among my saddle bag and spare sets of my clothing. All the things we abandoned at the forest camp.

“Oh, I thought I had lost this for sure.” I clutch the diary to my chest, feeling tears prick the back of my eyes. Then I draw it away, open it, and flick through the pages, stopping here and there, remembering both the words and feelings.

He bought my things… or asked someone to collect them for me. Either way, he thought about me enough to ensure they were not lost. The placement of them in the chest and the little note feels intentional, like they were always waiting there for me to be ready.

Just like this room.

Waiting for me.

This is my time on the wheel. My time in this room, where I shall make my nest. My turn to stand on the balcony and wait for my lover to land.

Only it is more complex than that, for there is no single griffin I call mate.

My mind conjures up the image of a handsome human soldier, a younger soldier who can change into a direwolf, a redheaded griffin shifter with a brooding expression and intense eyes… it does not stop there, for a regal griffin shifter with ash-blond hair who snuck his silk jacket into my former nest is likewise present.

I slip the diary back into the small chest and close the lid, then rise and tap my chin thoughtfully. “Now I need one of those soft mattresses I noticed stacked in that closet room on the other side of the library nook.”

The air crackles behind me. I spin and gasp as I find the human version of Lark is standing there, naked, with a scowl upon his face.

“Lark,” I say unnecessarily.