Page 80 of Griffin Food

A seal ring. The kind used in the field to communicate important information where one needs to be sure the information is verifiable. They are more often used in wars or campaigns that take soldiers far from their home estates for extended periods of time. Not something I come across often, nor have I had cause to use one myself. But I am familiar with them.

I am also familiar with this crest. It is one I often saw when I soldiered in Hydornia.

What the fuck is it doing here? “Where did you get this?”

“You recognize it?” he asks.

“I do.” My mind is rushing. This is the crest of Violet’s sister, Elisa.

“Lark found it,” Atlas says. “He recognized the man bearing it.”

I swallow. How much else did he tell him? This secret is not mine to tell. And yet, if a man bearing this ring is so close, it is not a secret I can keep either.

My hand trembles faintly. “Does she know?”

He shakes his head and holds out his hand for me to drop the ring back into. “No, not yet.”

“But Lark told you who it belongs to.”

He nods. “Violet’s family estate. Her sister, the Queen. I have several scholars here. When I leave this room, I will instruct them to bring me all pertinent information regarding her family. But if you have any other insights to share, I would appreciate them. We sighted three separate scouting parties in the forest. And believe the attack on the village—where this man and his ring met their end—is a forerunner to more. The war with Blighten has waned in your former homelands. Soldiers are plentiful and skilled, and coffers are depleted. At such times, some kings and queens deploy their soldiers to refill their coffers in nefarious ways. Time dims memories. People relegate tales of griffin protectors to myth, and the allure of communities of gem traders grows. The passes are closed at this time of year. But there are yet portals that can be opened—for a price.”

He is being open with me. And I appreciate that.

I don’t know what my future holds here, but there is no value in keeping secrets while Violet’s safety depends on them knowing everything. So I tell them all that I know: that her sister is a queen who hates omegas, and that she has a vendetta against them because of her bastard husband. Of what she did to Violet’s sisters, and how that drove Violet to flee. That Elisa has become embroiled with the High King of Hydornia. And is perhaps even his lover. That she is cruel and scheming. How even the thought of her being in this world where Violet is sickens me to the core.

“You must protect Violet,” I finish. “If Queen Elisa even suspects Violet is here, this will be about more than mere gems.”

He nods, face solemn. “You do not have to ask me to do that. I protect all the people under my watch—from a simple shepherd to an omega princess in hiding. The moment we took you, she became ours to protect. Just because I have not bedded her yet does not make the potency of my claim any less.”

I swallow thickly. The ground beneath me is unsteady, tides are turning, and strong winds are carrying things to places they were never meant to be.

“This woman who sends her soldiers to attack,” Atlas says. “Whether embittered by her life or merely cruel matters not. Omegas are not a scourge to be eradicated. That she is in a position of authority and meted out such cruelty on her three younger sisters, driving every one of them away, tells me everything I need to know about her character. Let her come. Let her bring the High King himself and any others foolish enough to follow her reign of terror. I welcome this war.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Fenix

Lark remains in wolf form as we escort the food—I mean, Violet—back to her nest. My wings are out, broad and flapping lightly. Not a fucking chance I can get Galeor to take them back.

“She likes our wings,” he announces in the privacy of my mind. “She cannot take her eyes off them. They caught the light most becomingly when the mutt was slavering all over her in Atlas’s study. She accepted your touch. It is only a matter of time before we are allowed to eat.”

Food. That is what she is. Feasting upon her is darkly consuming my mind.

If she will let me.

I knew it would be worse once I touched her. And then I did. Couldn’t help myself. Atlas is all-restrained power. And Darrion—well, he knew he’d already overstepped by taking her into Atlas’s study alone. It was a perfect opportunity for me to step forward.

Atlas and Darrion are overwhelming her. I get that Atlas has his ways, and I know better than to interfere. But also, fuck them. If there is a side, I already know I’m team Violet. And that was before I touched her. Now that I’ve done so, the restlessness inside me, the one I’ve known all my life, has become an entity of its own.

She is quiet and subdued, peeking up at me on occasion, as the giant mutt pads along at our side. And then we are at the nesting chamber. I can still remember her mating vividly. Gods, the things they did to her…

I shouldn’t technically step inside the door. It was understood that I was escorting her here, and nothing more. But somehow, I’m inside with both Violet and her wolf, and the door just swings shut. I tell myself I’m going to leave in a moment, but then the tiered seating catches my eye. It would not be unreasonable for me to take a seat and watch. No worse than looking through the window, is it?

I’m distracted from these possibilities by Lark’s sudden and vicious growl, which is when an unexpected scent hits me. I grin as I note Darrion’s handy work.

How the fuck did he get it here?

Ah, the servant we passed on the way to see Rafe. The one he paused to talk to. He must have ordered them to collect his jacket from Atlas’s study and bring it here. The same jacket that was laid over her on the couch before the mutt charged for her. And here it is now, lying in her nest, taking pride of place in the very center.