Page 155 of Griffin Food

They meet in pockets: our soldiers and an unknown ground force in a simple livery of brown and blue.

Dark fae cavalry sweep across the field in tight formation, their sleek horses cutting through the chaos, armor glinting as they ride down anything in their path. Leashes snap free, releasing the rocklings to surge ahead, bearing down on the ranks of men.

My breath catches as I brace for the cavalry to smash through the battling human ranks…

Huge, winged creatures swoop down in a tight formation every bit as controlled as the fae cavalry. Sharp beaks. Lethal talons. The likes of which I have never seen. Griffins—some half-remembered tale gives them a name.

One plucks a mounted fae from his horse and sends him flying into the nearby trees—another launches at a rockling. The beast swings his club. Feathers burst into the air. Another griffin dives, his beak closing over the rockling’s head.

He beats his wings. The other snags the rockling’s feet. Together, they rip the beast clean in half and use his broken body to toss into the fae ranks. More dive and attack. Others circle overhead.

Human soldiers rally below, shouting over the din, forming broken lines that buckle and reform under the onslaught. Steel rings against steel. Men scream—horses rear and fall.

The ground trembles beneath the clash.

Chapter Fifty-One

Violet

Present day…

Ablur of russet feathers streaks past us, so close the draft buffets my face. Galeor. Wings folded, diving at a speed that makes my stomach lurch.

He is not heading for Elisa.

“Fenix!” Aldric's screech of fury tears through the sky. But Galeor is already gone—plummeting toward something on the far side of the field that I cannot see.

Fenix

He’s here.

I have a lock on General Adharde.

Galeor and I are of one mind. The wolves are already closing in from the east, a deadly mass pouring through the broken ranks. They'll take the rockling—the great, collared brute lumbering at Adharde's side, too stupid and too conditioned to know what's coming for it.

I fold my wings tighter, bleeding speed from the sky, and angle my descent to cut off his retreat.

The wolven tide is ripping through their ranks. I see Lark take down the rockling at Adharde’s side in perfect synchronicity with my plan.

The general is mine.

I slam him to the ground.

“For Molly!”

My cry of fury is not for Adharde. I doubt the bastard even remembers the young girl he plucked from servitude and made into a pet.

It doesn’t matter. I have waited long and justice will be served. There is no hesitation. There will be no trial.

I reach forward with one lethal claw and rip out the dark fae’s heart.

Violet

“For Molly!”

Pain lances my heart. The potency of Fenix's rage—for a woman I do not know, a justice I do not understand—steals the breath from my lungs.

“Steady yourself, Queen,” Atlas says. “The emotions you feel are not the ones you suspect. It is his story, and I will let him tell it. But now is not the time.”