twitched at his side.
Astra gripped the hilt of her sword tighter, fighting to do what she knew her honor demanded.
To strike them before they could strike another whom she loved.
Yet they had repaired the Griffon babes, brought them back from stone, nearly at the expense of their own lives.
That was no dark magick, surely. For the Griffons were known for their purity and innocent magick.
Pain filled his gaze as his features twisted in regret as he watched her.
Aye, he deserved to feel that regret, and so much more. His soul, if he had one, should be writhing in agony at his acts.
“No tears, love,” his voice rasped, rough, weakened. Nearly breaking her with the gentle understanding it held. “Do not hesitate, little Sorceress, our forgiveness will follow you.”
She bent over, her forehead touching her knees as she felt her body shake with the sobs she couldn’t hold back.
Because she couldn’t do it.
She wanted to.
She wanted to strike their wicked heads from their bodies, yet she couldn’t draw her sword from its sheath.
Even as the thoughts passed through her mind, she knew them for the lies they were. Even the Sentinels knew she could never force herself to harm them, no matter the crimes they were accused.
Instead, as her head lifted, shock tore another sob from her as she realized her magick was weaving with those weakened palest-blue threads struggling to lift from his powerful chest.
He watched her solemnly, as though he knew her every thought, knew every fear surging through her. And perhaps he did. Any Wizard strong enough to attempt to murder one of their own and conspire to kill a princess would have great dark magick indeed.
Magick strong enough to steal any Sorceress’ will.
His gaze shifted to the sword once again.
“Why hesitate, beauty?” he rasped, understanding thick in a voice so weakened it barely carried to her.
“Do not speak to me,” she cried out, feeling everything inside her rejecting the thought that she could spill this Wizard’s blood. That she could dare to strike out at him.
At the same time, everything inside her was screaming that she do just that.
She had spent her magick once just to save them and the cubs. She had spent her magick again to hide them, to ensure that the rage Garron had sent out through the land toward them could not touch them.
Here, within the Emerald Valley, her strongest magick shielding the entrance to the deepest cavern within the valley, she had betrayed herself, her queen, her people.
Still, her shields should have never been enough to hold back Garron’s magick and the violence and rage that had fueled it.
“Do not speak to you.” He gave a weary breath as his head turned, his gaze finding the unconscious form of his brother mere inches from him.
His gaze then dropped to the fragile forms of the Griffons sleeping between them.
His lips quirked in a somber line as his hand slid to the baby, his fingers drifting over the white wings and tucking beneath them to the soft white fur that covered the fragile body.
The cub turned on his back, still sleeping, wings unfurling out to his sides as he sprawled out in abandon to allow the Wizard to stroke his undefended belly.
How odd. The babes rarely allowed even the Sorceresses to stroke their most vulnerable area in such a way.
Griffons were born with a knowledge that their bellies were the most undefended parts of their bodies. That it was there that they were most often struck and brought from the skies.
Yet Tambor was allowing the Wizard to stroke him, and even slept through the gentle caress.
“He will need to suck soon,” the Wizard advised her softly. “He is weak, and will need his mother.”
“When he awakens.” She wiped at the tears that still fell. “He has not yet gained the strength to go to her, and I am not yet strong enough to do so either.”
He nodded softly before lifting his gaze to her once again. “You are weary, Astra. Come, lie between us. Let us
Astra gripped the hilt of her sword tighter, fighting to do what she knew her honor demanded.
To strike them before they could strike another whom she loved.
Yet they had repaired the Griffon babes, brought them back from stone, nearly at the expense of their own lives.
That was no dark magick, surely. For the Griffons were known for their purity and innocent magick.
Pain filled his gaze as his features twisted in regret as he watched her.
Aye, he deserved to feel that regret, and so much more. His soul, if he had one, should be writhing in agony at his acts.
“No tears, love,” his voice rasped, rough, weakened. Nearly breaking her with the gentle understanding it held. “Do not hesitate, little Sorceress, our forgiveness will follow you.”
She bent over, her forehead touching her knees as she felt her body shake with the sobs she couldn’t hold back.
Because she couldn’t do it.
She wanted to.
She wanted to strike their wicked heads from their bodies, yet she couldn’t draw her sword from its sheath.
Even as the thoughts passed through her mind, she knew them for the lies they were. Even the Sentinels knew she could never force herself to harm them, no matter the crimes they were accused.
Instead, as her head lifted, shock tore another sob from her as she realized her magick was weaving with those weakened palest-blue threads struggling to lift from his powerful chest.
He watched her solemnly, as though he knew her every thought, knew every fear surging through her. And perhaps he did. Any Wizard strong enough to attempt to murder one of their own and conspire to kill a princess would have great dark magick indeed.
Magick strong enough to steal any Sorceress’ will.
His gaze shifted to the sword once again.
“Why hesitate, beauty?” he rasped, understanding thick in a voice so weakened it barely carried to her.
“Do not speak to me,” she cried out, feeling everything inside her rejecting the thought that she could spill this Wizard’s blood. That she could dare to strike out at him.
At the same time, everything inside her was screaming that she do just that.
She had spent her magick once just to save them and the cubs. She had spent her magick again to hide them, to ensure that the rage Garron had sent out through the land toward them could not touch them.
Here, within the Emerald Valley, her strongest magick shielding the entrance to the deepest cavern within the valley, she had betrayed herself, her queen, her people.
Still, her shields should have never been enough to hold back Garron’s magick and the violence and rage that had fueled it.
“Do not speak to you.” He gave a weary breath as his head turned, his gaze finding the unconscious form of his brother mere inches from him.
His gaze then dropped to the fragile forms of the Griffons sleeping between them.
His lips quirked in a somber line as his hand slid to the baby, his fingers drifting over the white wings and tucking beneath them to the soft white fur that covered the fragile body.
The cub turned on his back, still sleeping, wings unfurling out to his sides as he sprawled out in abandon to allow the Wizard to stroke his undefended belly.
How odd. The babes rarely allowed even the Sorceresses to stroke their most vulnerable area in such a way.
Griffons were born with a knowledge that their bellies were the most undefended parts of their bodies. That it was there that they were most often struck and brought from the skies.
Yet Tambor was allowing the Wizard to stroke him, and even slept through the gentle caress.
“He will need to suck soon,” the Wizard advised her softly. “He is weak, and will need his mother.”
“When he awakens.” She wiped at the tears that still fell. “He has not yet gained the strength to go to her, and I am not yet strong enough to do so either.”
He nodded softly before lifting his gaze to her once again. “You are weary, Astra. Come, lie between us. Let us
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